Chapter 5 - The Voice from the Grave
Giancarlo walked over to the silver tray Rosa held, lifted the black velvet cloth, and revealed a high-end digital audio playback console wired directly into the estate's main overhead sound system.
He pressed play.
Instantly, the crystal-clear, unmistakable voices of Isabella and Adrian echoed through the sprawling conference room, bouncing off the mahogany walls and freezing everyone in their tracks.
"Are you sure he'll drink it?" Adrian’s voice hissed from the speakers. "He always drinks whiskey before bed," Isabella replied, calm as ice. "By morning, everyone will think his heart gave out... Once the lawyers transfer control to me, you'll take over his men."
The room erupted into absolute pandemonium.
Several board members stood up so fast their chairs crashed backward onto the floor. Whispers, gasps, and shouts of outrage bounced around the room. Marcus Vance looked like he wanted to swallow his own tongue, sliding his chair six inches away from Adrian as if distance could save him from the coming storm.
The audio continued, playing the entire ten-minute confession—the forged documents, the secret Swiss bank accounts, the bribed judges, and finally, the cold-blooded plan to eliminate Rosa by nightfall.
"If she talks, I'll handle her," Adrian’s recorded voice stated. "By tomorrow night, neither of them will be a problem," Isabella laughed.
Giancarlo reached out and hit pause.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.
Isabella slumped forward onto the mahogany table, breaking down into hysterical, ragged sobs of defeat, all her aristocratic poise shattered into dust. Adrian stood frozen, his hand still hovering near his empty holster, realizing with horrifying clarity that every single exit from the room was blocked by men who answered only to Giancarlo.
"You... you knew," Adrian whispered, his voice shaking violently, the bravado completely drained from his body. "You knew the whole time."
"I knew before the ink on our marriage certificate had even dried," Giancarlo said, walking slowly toward his former best friend. "You forgot one fundamental rule of the underworld, Adrian. A boss doesn't survive twenty years at the top by trusting people who smile in his face while holding a knife behind their back."
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Giancarlo stopped inches from Adrian, towering over him.
"You wanted my empire," Giancarlo whispered softly, venom dripping from every syllable. "You wanted my wife. You wanted my life. Now, you're going to get a front-row seat to watch me take everything you ever thought was yours."
