The Sins Of The Father

Every eye in the dining room snapped to Victor Thorne.

Dante turned slowly, his face a mask of absolute shock.

“You?”

Victor didn’t look afraid. He looked bored.

He picked up his linen napkin and gently dabbed the corners of his mouth.

“Daniel was becoming a liability. He was planning to hand over the family ledgers to the FBI in exchange for witness protection. He was a rat, Dante.”

Carmine slammed his fist on the table.

“You murdered my son, Victor!”

“I protected my investments,” Victor corrected smoothly.

“Your son was going to sink my entire real estate empire with his little confession. So, I took care of the problem. Camille simply played her part by ensuring Daniel left the gala panicked and reckless.”

Victor looked at Camille with sheer disgust.

“Though, you couldn’t even do that right. You let him get in the wrong car.”

Camille shrank back, terrified of the man she had secretly been working for.

Dante’s hands curled into tight fists.

“You sat at my table. You drank my wine. And you killed my brother.”

“Business is business, Dante,” Victor sighed.

He reached into his jacket pocket.

Marco immediately drew his weapon, aiming it at Victor’s head.

“Easy, Marco,” Victor smiled.

He didn’t pull out a gun.

He pulled out a folded, legal-sized document.

He tossed it onto the center of the table.

“What is that?” Dante demanded.

“That is the deed to this estate,” Victor said. “And the ownership papers for every legitimate front your family operates. Your shipping company. Your hotels. Your casinos.”

Carmine went pale.

“That’s impossible.”

“You shouldn’t have trusted your offshore accounts to Camille,” Victor smirked.

“Over the last six months, she has systematically transferred all your family’s debt into my holding companies. You owe me eighty million dollars, Carmine. And since you can’t pay, I’m calling in the collateral.”

The betrayal was complete.

Camille hadn’t just tried to secure a place in the family; she had handed the entire Caruso empire to their biggest rival.

“You’re taking nothing,” Dante said, his voice deadly quiet.

“You’re not leaving this room alive.”

Victor laughed. A dry, humorless sound.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

He snapped his fingers.

Instantly, six of the ‘guests’ sitting around the table stood up.

They weren’t politicians or investors.

They pulled suppressed pistols from beneath their tailored jackets and aimed them directly at Dante, Carmine, and Marco.

The real guests screamed, dropping to the floor.

I dove under the serving cart, pulling Sarah down with me.

“Checkmate,” Victor said softly.

He looked down at Dante.

“Sign the transfer papers, Dante. Hand over the empire peacefully. If you do, I’ll let you, your father, and the widow walk out the front door. You can take the boy and start over somewhere quiet.”

Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, black fountain pen.

He placed it on top of the deed.

“If you refuse, my men kill everyone in this room. And then we go to the marina and finish the job with the boy.”

Dante stared at the pen.

His entire life, his legacy, the blood spilled by his family for three generations—all of it came down to a single signature.

He looked at his father.

Carmine was shaking, a broken old man who had sacrificed his own son for a throne that was now crumbling beneath him.

Then, Dante looked at Sarah.

She was huddled on the floor beside me, her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with terror. She had already lost her husband. She couldn’t lose her son.

Dante reached out.