The tiny question drifted from somewhere below Vincent Castiglione’s chest. For the first time in memory, the city's most feared syndicate lord was rendered completely speechless.

Marco’s hand shook so violently that red wine sloshed over the rim of his crystal goblet, staining the pristine white tablecloth like fresh arterial blood.

He looked around the grand banquet hall, but the twenty underbosses who had once laughed at his jokes were now staring at him with stony, lethal silence.

"Vincent...

this is madness," Marco stammered, his voice cracking as he pushed the goblet away.

"You're taking the word of a deranged maid and a toddler over your most loyal commander?

I built this empire with you! I bled for the Castiglione name while you were recovering in the hospital!"

"You didn't bleed for me, Marco," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a register that made the heavy crystal chandeliers vibrate.

"You tried to assassinate my family, you stole forty million dollars from our port operations, and you spent four years terrorizing the mother of my child."

Vincent snapped his fingers, and the massive projection screens along the ballroom walls lit up with blinding clarity.

Every screen displayed forensic bank manifests, encrypted audio intercepts, and high-definition surveillance footage from the California state archives.

The audio recording of Marco speaking to rival cartel brokers four years ago filled the room through the surround-sound speakers:

*"Set the mountain cabin on fire at midnight.

Ensure the girl is locked inside the cellar, but drag Vincent out before the roof collapses.

With his father dead and his woman turned to ash, Vincent will be a broken weapon I can steer toward absolute territorial conquest."*

The underbosses erupted into furious shouts of condemnation, several reaching inside their jackets for their sidearms.

In syndicate law, there was no crime more unforgivable than striking at a boss’s bloodline from behind his back.

"Traitor!" Capo Sal yelled, slamming his fist onto the mahogany table.

"Feed him to the concrete grinders!"

Marco realized that every escape route was blocked by Leo’s tactical operators, but a cornered viper always strikes its deadliest blow.

With blinding speed, Marco reached into the concealed pocket of his waistcoat and slammed an emergency smoke grenade onto the marble floor!

BOOM!

A blinding flash of white phosphorus and dense gray smoke engulfed the high table, triggering the fire sprinklers and plunging the ballroom into shrieking, chaotic darkness!