Chapter 4 – THE PRICE OF A SOUL

Celeste froze.

The silver revolver in her hand trembled, but she didn’t lower it.

“If you shoot me, my men in the hallway will kill all of you,” Celeste hissed, her eyes darting nervously toward the doorway.

“Let them try,” Damian said, stepping out from the closet, shielding Evelyn behind his broad shoulders. He walked slowly toward Celeste, his presence suffocating the room.

“You wanted my empire so badly, Celeste, you didn’t even realize you were being played.”

Celeste swallowed hard. “Played? We had a business arrangement!”

Damian reached out and easily snatched the revolver from her trembling fingers. He unloaded the bullets onto the floor with a series of heavy clicks.

“Dominick doesn’t do mergers,” Damian said quietly. “He does takeovers. Did you ever wonder why your father’s shipping business went bankrupt so suddenly last week?”

Celeste’s arrogant facade cracked. “The unions went on strike…”

“Because Dominick paid the union leaders to walk out,” Damian said. “He crippled your family so you would be desperate enough to force this marriage. He wanted your shipping ports, Celeste. And he used you to get them.”

Celeste went completely pale.

The realization washed over her in a wave of devastating humiliation. She hadn’t been the mastermind of a grand mafia wedding. She had been the pawn.

I watched her legs give out. She sank onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“My father is going to lose our home,” she sobbed, the cruel fiancée suddenly reduced to a terrified daughter.

Evelyn, the woman Celeste had humiliated and forced to her knees just an hour ago, slowly walked across the room.

She didn’t gloat. She didn’t yell.

Evelyn sat down next to Celeste and gently placed a hand on her shaking shoulder.

“Then we have to stop him,” Evelyn said softly.

Celeste looked up, her mascara running, staring at the seamstress in shock.

Damian turned to me.

“Anna, rip the lining.”

I took the beautiful, antique wedding veil. With a heavy heart, I tore the delicate stitches Evelyn had spent days repairing.

A small, black leather ledger fell into my hands.

It looked incredibly ordinary. But when Damian opened it, the weight of the ink on the pages seemed to suck the air from the room.

He flipped through the dates.

“1998. The waterfront arson,” Damian read, his voice tight. “2004. The disappearance of the Russo brothers…” He stopped.

He looked at Thomas.

Thomas closed his eyes, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “My cousins.”

“He ordered the hit,” Damian whispered, staring at the page. “And he made you head of security the very next week.”

The sheer, unfathomable evil of Dominick Vitelli was laid bare in front of us.

“This book is enough to send him to federal prison for a hundred lifetimes,” Thomas said.

Damian slammed the book shut.

“Prison is too good for him. The Five Families are arriving at the estate in twenty minutes for the rehearsal reception.”

Damian looked at Thomas, the unspoken understanding of the underworld passing between them.

“If I show this book to the Commission, they won’t arrest him. They will strip him of his name, his wealth, and his life.”

A sudden, sharp applause echoed from the bedroom balcony.

We all spun around.

The glass balcony doors slid open.

Dominick Vitelli stepped into the room. He wasn’t alone. He was flanked by four massive men carrying shotguns.

“A beautiful speech, my boy,” Dominick rasped, leaning on his cane. “But you will never make it to that reception.”

Dominick pointed his cane at me.

“Kill the maid. Take the book.”

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