Chapter 38: Careful
Carmen’s POV
He frowned and stared at me for much longer but otherwise kept his peace, shifting his gaze to Nico before he began to speak.
"It has to be whoever killed Nevarro. I have enemies, but never ones with such a big reach," he began, beckoning for a glass of water, which was handed to him before he continued.
There was a pissed-off look in his eyes as he fully explained what had happened and how he had ended up in the hospital bed.
To be honest, it was astonishing.
His closest guards had been bribed with huge amounts of money—something he only found out after Forren tortured the ones who had gone missing or taken a day off. Others had been paid simply to stay home while replacements took their place, and some were paid just to look the other way.
It was for such small actions that most of them hadn’t hesitated, since they believed they were doing nothing wrong. All they had to do was plead innocence.
It had all happened so quickly, yet by the time he tried to escape, the doors had already been shut with him inside. Cell networks were jammed, and only by breaking out through a window like a thief was he able to escape—with the help of the guards who had remained loyal.
"...Forren checked. The money was deposited into all their accounts. Altogether, it’s a truckload of money—ranging in the millions," Gotti said, shifting to his left side with a groan of pain that he swallowed, refusing to let it slip past his lips.
Vito began to speak, sliding his fingers through his stubby beard as he stood on the other side of the bed beside Forren.
"Are you sure? It could be the Gallias. Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake or piss them off?"
But Vito was still speaking when Gotti exploded in anger.
"Am I sure? Of course I’m sure! Am I a fool that I would piss off the Gallias drug cartel? They supply drugs to all of us—which we distribute through our businesses downtown. They could wreck us if we crossed them!" Gotti snapped.
As much as I liked seeing him in pain, it was clear there was a serious situation unfolding—one that even Vito had to take seriously, especially when Nico finally spoke.
"I got attacked too. That bomb that went off—the one involving the three SUV cars? They were mine. I just wasn’t in them," he announced.
The tension in the room instantly thickened.
"...You didn’t think to inform us? Like this wasn’t important—so soon after Castilo died?" Gotti asked, clearly pissed, his voice lower now as he resisted the urge to cough, covering his face with his hands.
Vito looked displeased, but beneath that was something far more dangerous—an expression of fear and anxiety when it became clear he was the only one who hadn’t been attacked.
"...What? The one on the news? The explosion that hit two other cars and sent people to the hospital? How did you escape?" he asked, trying to sound composed, but the fear was obvious.
There were few things more terrifying than a planted bomb. It wasn’t every day one checked their car to make sure it wasn’t wired to explode.
"Like I said... I simply wasn’t there," Nico replied calmly.
Vito’s gaze snapped to me, almost as if he expected me to recount my own narrow escape.
"Don’t look at me! My father already died!" I snapped, and he slowly nodded.
He stepped closer to Gotti’s bed, speaking now with more urgency than before.
My father was dead. Nico had been attacked. Gotti had barely survived.
It was clear as day—Vito would be next.
And he knew it.
Still, the ruthlessness of these methods was enough to shake even a Don like him—a man with enough money and influence to rival a state governor. Marcelle City was known as the richest and most industrious city in the country for a reason.
"Have you found any clues?" he asked.
Gotti’s anger seemed to double with every passing second, especially at Vito, who kept asking the most questions.
"If I had a clue, would I have called everyone here to figure it out?" Gotti shot back. If he had known, he would have already eliminated whoever was behind it before they could finish the job.
To be honest, I would have spoken up if I had a solid plan—but how could we plan when we didn’t even know who the enemy was? Even if their goal was obvious, we were still in the dark.
They wanted to take out four people.
And they had already taken out one.
"Don’t think this doesn’t affect you," Vito suddenly pointed out, more determined than I expected. "...If they killed your father, now that you’ve inherited everything, they’ll come for you."
I chuckled in response, a smug expression on my face as I folded my arms across my chest and tilted my head slightly.
"...Sure. But not before they kill you first. For all we know, it could be today. I won’t miss you—and I doubt anyone would mourn you," I told him bluntly.
Unlike Gotti—who at least had the sense to have a family—Vito surrounded himself with different women who bore his children, all of whom he merely provided for.
He was a pervert and a philanderer to his very core.
I glared at him with everything I had.
Yes, there was a problem—someone was trying to eliminate all of them—but I knew one thing for certain.
Whoever had kidnapped me from my father’s home... was in this room.
Bianca may have been behind it—but someone had supported her, someone had given her the confidence to go through with it.
Gotti coughed again, louder this time, into a handkerchief that quickly stained red with blood. Forren, his son, immediately handed him a cup to drink, while his wife had already stepped out earlier to give us space—clearly unwilling to involve herself in mafia matters.
Silence settled over the room once more.
It lingered until Gotti was ready to speak again—but this time, Nico spoke first.
"The truth is, we have absolutely no idea who is behind this. I’ve been trying to find out, but it’s not easy. For now... we’ll just have to be careful," Nico said with a quiet sigh.
Gotti nodded, while Vito looked more worried than anyone else as Nico continued.
