Chapter 51 Chapter 50

Chapter 51 Chapter 50
I left the room and went down the stairs. I saw Maria heading toward the kitchen, her skirt brushing against the floor, and I continued to the living room. Salvatori was sitting on the couch, motionless, his eyes fixed on some distant point. My gaze went straight to the coffee table — the bottle of whiskey rested there. I gave a short smile as I approached.

"Sealed well?" I asked, my voice low.

"Yes, perfectly. I checked twice," he replied, his hand restless on his knee.

I picked up the bottle and turned it in my hand, running my thumb over the seal.

"Sir…" Salvatori started, his voice unsteady.

"Quiet," I interrupted, without lifting my eyes from the seal. "Don’t say another word until we get there, understood?"

He swallowed hard and nodded, his shoulders tense.
"Yes, sir."

I turned to him. "Enzo, where is he?" I asked.

"In the car, sir," he replied, glancing at the bottle.

"If something happens," I began, "and my plan fails, I want you to take care of her and my son. In my office, I left the bank passwords. Only tell her if I end up in a coffin. Don’t make a scene; I hate scenes. Be as discreet as possible."

Salvatori clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists for a moment before relaxing.
"Sir…"

"And one more thing," I interrupted again, slowly turning my head to look at the bottle. "If you ever touch her the wrong way, I’ll come back from the dead and kill you myself. Understood?"

Salvatori took a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself, and answered with a trembling voice,
"Yes, sir. You have my word that I’ll take very good care of Mrs. Moretti."

"Excellent." I nodded, placing the bottle inside the bag. "Now let’s go."

We left the house. The sun hit me full-on, forcing me to narrow my eyes as I walked toward the car. Enzo was already sitting in the front seat. Salvatori opened the back door, and I got in. He went around, got in beside me, and shut the door firmly. The engine rumbled softly, and the car began moving slowly down the road. I rested my elbow on the window and watched the scenery pass.

My eyes dropped to the bag beside me — the faint clink of glass from the bottle made my jaw tighten.

The streets grew wider, the houses larger. Each one seemed to compete with the next to see who could flaunt more. Marble façades, golden gates... a parade of excess.

The car slowed down and stopped a little farther back.

Salvatori gestured with his chin toward an overly white house — so white it almost hurt to look at.
"There it is, sir. Viktor’s house."

I looked at it for a moment and let out a short laugh.
"Hm. No personality, just as I imagined. Do as we planned."

"Yes, sir."

I opened the door, adjusted my jacket, and took a deep breath. The warm air hit my face as I began walking, unhurried.

Ahead, I saw two guards standing at the entrance — rigid posture, hands clasped in front.

When I got closer, they straightened even more, tense.

"Don Moretti is here," I said, staring directly at one of them.

The guard brought his hand to the radio and murmured something. Within seconds, the gate opened with a metallic click. They signaled for me to enter.

I passed by them without a word, feeling their eyes follow me. The garden was wide, but the grass was fake — typical cheap ostentation. Farther ahead, a massive pool reflected the sunlight. In a covered area, a row of luxury cars gleamed under the light. One of them was parked crookedly, out of line with the rest.

A small detail, but enough to irritate me.

Carelessness bothered me more than it should — and it was in that kind of mistake that I usually began to lose my patience.
As I stepped inside, I noticed the strange silence. No servants in sight.
That would make my job much easier.

I looked around. Everything was spotless, but empty. How rude not to receive me properly. What kind of host does that?

Then, a door opened, and muffled laughter echoed through the room. Viktor appeared, a wide grin plastered on his face, surrounded by smoke and drunken voices.

"Well, look who decided to show up… Don Moretti, in the flesh," he said, spreading his arms. "Come in, come in."

I took a few steps and stopped in front of him, analyzing the setting. A spacious room, almost like an office. I counted at a glance — ten… fifteen… twenty men, maybe more. All laughing, smoking cheap cigars, reeking of alcohol and arrogance.

Viktor moved slowly to his leather chair and dropped into it with disdain, crossing his legs.
"So, you really are rising up, aren’t you?" he said, picking up a glass and swirling the ice inside. "And congratulations on the wife… beautiful, by the way. Maybe you’ll invite me to the christening when you have a kid?"
Laughter exploded around him, mocking.

I didn’t react. I just smiled — coldly, without it reaching my eyes.
"Maybe," I murmured. "But can I know why the hell you took my wife?"

"That?" He laughed, leaning forward. "Ah… that was just to get your attention. I think losing one of my men was worth it, don’t you? After all, you came all the way here."

I stayed silent for a moment. The air seemed to grow heavier.
"I heard my father had a debt with you," I said, my voice low as I stared at him.

Viktor rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, too relaxed for someone who was pushing his luck with me.
"He did. That damned old man died owing me. I even had to go see the body to believe it was true."

"How much?"

"Half a million dollars," he said, raising a finger. "But since you brought it up, we can settle this in… various ways. Weapons, perhaps?"

"Fine," I replied flatly. "Half a million in armaments."

Viktor burst out laughing and slapped the table. "That’s it!" He pointed at me. "Listen, boys, the great Don Moretti himself! Smart… polite… almost a gentleman."

He leaned back, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"And that hotel of yours… I’ve always wanted to stay there. Your sister’s still around, isn’t she? Maybe I could drop by to say hello."