Chapter 2 - The Trap Closes
"Sophia? Little Emma?"
Vincent Romano’s smooth, melodic voice drifted down the stairwell, cutting through the shadows like a razor.
Sophia froze, her body instinctively shielding Emma behind a stack of wine crates near the cellar wall. She pressed her hand gently over her daughter's mouth to silence her breathing.
The sound of leather shoes crunched down the steps. One step. Two steps.
Vincent appeared at the base of the stairs, clad in a pristine charcoal suit without a single speck of dust. He held a customized Beretta pistol loosely by his side, its suppressor catching the faint yellow glow of the single hanging bulb. His eyes swept over the bound figure of Lorenzo Duca, then slowly scanned the dark corners of the room.
"Sophia," Vincent said smoothly, a chilling smile touching his lips. "What are you and the little one doing down here in the dark? This area is restricted."
Sophia stepped out from the shadows, her voice trembling with manufactured fear rather than real terror. "Mr. Romano... I heard a noise. Emma wandered off following a cat... we found him—"
"Quiet, Sophia," Vincent interrupted gently, raising a hand. He walked slowly toward the iron chair, crouching down beside Lorenzo. He reached out and casually peeled the duct tape off Lorenzo’s mouth with a sharp, painful yank.
Lorenzo gasped, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the stone floor, his dark eyes locking onto Vincent with unmitigated fury.
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"You always were too proud to beg, Lorenzo," Vincent chuckled softly, patting Lorenzo’s bloodied cheek as if he were an unruly pet. "And you were too trusting. You thought decades of brotherhood meant something. But empires belong to the men who actually manage the ledgers."
Vincent stood up, turning his cold, dead eyes back toward Sophia and the trembling child. "It's unfortunate, really. You both chose the wrong time to explore the basement. Housekeepers who see too much tend to have very short careers in this estate."
