Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
By 2:00 a.m., the ground-floor study looked less like a family home and more like a federal investigation unit.
Frank, Dante’s oldest and most trusted enforcer, stood by the mahogany desk unloading binders filled with financial audits, staff disciplinary records, and property transfers. Marcela sat rigidly in a leather armchair across the room, her chin lifted high, refusing to look defeated despite the armed guard standing quietly by the door.
"You are making a catastrophic mistake, Dante," Marcela hissed, her voice trembling with indignation. "I built this family’s reputation while your father was in prison! I ensured our alliances held! And now you humiliate me over a tired, dramatic girl who can't even clean up a broken dish?"
Dante didn't yell. He slammed a thick ledger onto the wooden desk with a sharp thud.
"You didn't just manage the house, Mother," Dante said, his voice dropping into a register that made even Frank look away. "According to these financial logs, you’ve been systematically selling off parcels of residential real estate in Queens that were deeded directly to Elena’s name as part of our prenuptial agreement."
Marcela’s face tightened. "Those properties were inefficiently managed—"
"They weren't yours to sell," Dante interrupted. "You forged Elena’s signature on the title transfers, routed the capital through offshore accounts in Zurich, and tried to frame a rival syndicate for the theft to trigger a turf war."
I gasped, gripping the arm of my chair. I had known Marcela disliked me, but corporate embezzlement and framing rivals for gang warfare was a level of malice I hadn't imagined.
Marcela stood up, her eyes blazing with absolute contempt. "She is a nobody! A waitress from a middle-class family who lucked her way into a Viscari bed! She doesn't belong in this house, and neither do you, Dante, if you're going to let a hormonal girl dictate how an empire is run!"
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Dante stood up slowly. He didn't blink.
"Pack your bags, Mother," he said quietly. "By dawn, you will be relocated to the estate in the Catskills. You will have security, medical care, and food—but you will never step foot in this house again. And if you ever speak to my wife with disrespect again, I won't just exile you to the mountains. I'll cut you off completely."
