Chapter 507: Spare Me The Pretence
The Vitale estate wasn’t difficult to take down. He knew the house almost as well as his own. He had drunk wine in its dining room, argued business in its study, stood beside Enzo in halls now dressed for mourning. Friendship had once made the place familiar. Rage made it easy to invade.
The gate came down beneath the force of a truck. Metal screamed. Stone cracked. The first shots rang out before the broken gates had finished shuddering apart.
Vitale men scattered into position, but they had not been ready for war. Massimo’s men were ready. They came in with the element of surprise cutting through the estate before the Vitales could gather themselves. Return fire spat from balconies and side doors, but the Genovese advance did not slow.
Marco stayed to Massimo’s right, face hard, gun steady, every line of him pulled tight. On Massimo’s left, his capo moved with brutal calm, barking low orders as men swept the grounds and pushed into the house.
Massimo walked between them. Inside, chaos erupted. The vast foyer filled with gunfire and shouting. Glass shattering, portraits hitting the floor, frames splintering. Maids screamed and ran for cover as they fled toward the service corridor. Guests who had come carrying condolences, discovered far too late that they had chosen the wrong day.
They were all persuaded by Marco’s gun and the men moving through the room to drop to their knees. Within seconds, the living room was no longer a place of mourning.
Flowers surrounded Bianca’s framed photograph. A condolence book on a table near the entrance.
Massimo stepped toward the book. He took the pen beside the register, opened the page, and signed his name.
Then he took a seat.
Enzo stood across the room, his face carved with rage. "What is this, Massimo?...What else do you want from me? My grief?"
"Spare me the pretence, Enzo," Massimo said. "You are going to call your son," Massimo continued, leaning back in the chair, "and you are going to tell him to bring back my daughter-in-law. Then I will forget everything else he has done."
"My son?" Enzo said. "I haven’t spoken to David since forever."
Massimo’s eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe that?"
"Believe what you want." Enzo’s voice hardened. "It doesn’t excuse this disrespect. Even for you, Massimo, this is low."
A murmur of fear moved through the room and died quickly when Marco shifted his gun. Massimo knew this man almost as well as he knew himself. Knew the set of his mouth when he lied. But right now, Massimo saw confusion.
If Enzo did not know where David was, then David was acting on his own which meant Veronica wouldn’t be alive for much longer if she wasn’t dead already.
"I hear you are making moves with the Bastiones."
Enzo lifted his chin. "That, I am doing. You do not expect me to sit back after what your son has done. Bianca was my daughter."
"And Veronica is mine," Massimo said coldly.
Massimo leaned forward. "So I will ask you once more. Where is David?"
"I told you," Enzo said. "I have no idea where David is. Neither do I have any idea where your daughter-in-law is or what she has to do with David." Enzo affirmed.
"Enzo, you know me," Massimo said. "You know I do not bluff," Massimo continued. "You either start talking, or I am going to start shooting your guests in the head one after the other." He gave the smallest tilt of his head. His capo moved instantly.
The barrel of his gun pressed against the skull of one of the men kneeling nearest the centre table. The man sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening, lips trembling around a prayer.
Enzo’s face darkened. "And you know me, Massimo. Don’t act like you do not. I have not spoken to David."
"I find it funny," Massimo said slowly, "that you still choose to go to war with me despite all you know. Despite all your daughter has done."
"And all I have is your word."
"You think I came here for theatre?"
"I think your son has spent months making my daughter look like the villain while he played the wounded husband." Enzo stepped forward despite the guns, his voice rising. "I think Luca was smitten with another woman from the minute he married my baby. So no, Massimo, I cannot take your word. Not about Bianca. Not about this."
"Then explain my daughter-in-law’s kidnapping by your son."
Enzo laughed once. "Again, your word. I don’t believe you," Enzo said, his chest rising and falling hard now. "Your daughter-in-law is in New York. David cannot even leave the country."
"And yet, he did," Massimo said. "Bianca helped him...He bought a café right across the street from Veronica’s place of business."
"Impossible," Enzo said. "He has no money. Where would he get it from?"
Massimo’s eyes hardened. "Think, Enzo. Your daughter could afford it...She had the funds. The connections. David killed two men and buried their bodies on Veronica’s property. He had Marco framed and almost killed."
Enzo’s eyes flicked to Marco. For once, he had nothing immediate to say.
Massimo let the silence breathe before he spoke again. "Enzo, what will it take for you to believe that I would not betray our friendship so lightly?"
Enzo looked around his living room. His face collapsed inward. "I do not know any of this."
Massimo believed him. "Then you have been asleep for too long...And for that, I blame you."
Enzo swallowed. "Massimo... If all you say is true, then I withdraw my battle."
"What?!" Graziella spat from where she was kneeling. "You withdraw what?! Are you insane?!"
"Ah..." Massimo drawled, his gaze sliding slowly from Enzo to the woman kneeling beside him. "Let’s see if your wife knows, shall we?"
Marco caught Graziella by the arm and hauled her to her feet. The guests froze harder, no one daring to breathe too loudly as Marco shoved the barrel of his gun against the side of her head.
(100 power stones!)
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