Chapter 9 - The Coronation Interrupted
The Castiglione Estate was a massive, sprawling stone mansion perched high on the cliffs overlooking the black, roaring ocean. The long driveway was lined with luxury vehicles—Bentleys, Mercedes, and armored SUVs belonging to the heads of the city's seven major syndicates. The lights from the grand ballroom cast a golden glow onto the manicured lawns, looking entirely peaceful from the outside.
But inside, a execution of power was taking place.
We parked my car in the shadows of the servant’s entrance, away from the security cameras that Matteo had already bypassed using an old master bypass key from his pocket. The three of us slipped through the side doors, moving through the grand, marble-lined corridors toward the double oak doors of the main council chamber.
Through the thick wood of the doors, Leo Rossi’s voice carried with absolute, unchecked arrogance.
"Nicholas was a great leader," Leo was saying to the gathered council members, his voice dripping with false grief. "But a leader who cannot speak, a leader who cannot sign his name, is no leader at all. The shipping lines are stagnant. The authorities are closing in. Tonight, by unanimous vote of the shareholdings, I take active control of the Castiglione syndicate."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
"Are there any objections?" Leo asked, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had already killed the competition.
"I have an objection."
Nicholas didn't just open the doors; he threw them open with such violence that the gold-plated handles shattered against the stone walls.
The entire room went dead silent. The heads of the seven families stood up from their leather chairs in absolute, mind-shattering shock. Some dropped their glasses of expensive whiskey, the crystal shattering on the floor.
Leo Rossi froze at the head of the long mahogany table, the pen in his hand dropping onto the legal documents before him. His face turned an asymmetric shade of green and white, his eyes bulging as if he were looking at a corpse that had crawled out of its grave.
"N-Nicholas..." Leo stammered, his smooth, venomous voice completely breaking. "This... this is impossible..."
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Nicholas walked into the room, his stride slow, deliberate, and entirely commanding. He didn't have a weapon drawn; he didn't need one. His presence alone completely dominated the chamber. Matteo and I fell into step behind him, the silver revolver still held firmly at my side.
"You thought the throne looked better empty, Leo," Nicholas said, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings like thunder. "But you forgot that the king only sleeps. He doesn't die."
