Chapter 38 The Counterattack
JEREMY
The plane touched down at JFK at 7am.
I hadn't slept. I spent the entire flight reviewing Vincent's evidence packet, memorising every detail, and preparing for what came next.
The bank statements revealed that Antonio had $3.2 million invested in offshore accounts.
The evidence packet included photos of Antonio meeting with Viktor Volkov at three distinct locations.
The evidence packet included intercepted communications that discussed "information exchange" and "territorial considerations".
Documents prove Antonio has been selling family secrets for two years.
It was airtight. Damning. Enough to have him removed as underboss, possibly even killed for treason.
But as the car drove through early morning New York traffic toward the Santoro estate, I made a decision.
I wouldn't go to my father first.
I'd go to Antonio.
Give him one chance to release Amelia without this becoming a family war.
Because if I went to Dominic first, showed him the evidence, and demanded Antonio's removal—there would be blood. Sides would be taken. The Family would fracture.
And in that chaos, Amelia could get hurt.
No. It would be preferable to address this matter in a discreet manner. Man to man. Uncle to nephew.
Better to give Antonio a way out that didn't require destroying the Family to save one girl.
Even if that girl meant everything to me.
"Where to, Mr Santoro?" my driver asked as we approached the estate gates.
"Antonio's office. The east wing."
"Not the main house?"
"No. This is between me and my uncle first."
The driver nodded and didn't question further.
We drove through the gates, past the main house where Amelia was somewhere inside—locked in a room, waiting, not knowing I was finally home.
Soon, I promised silently. Just hold on a little longer.
The car stopped outside the office building in the east wing. Antonio conducted most of his business here, separate from the main family operations. Private. Secure.
Perfect.
I grabbed the briefcase containing copies of Vincent's evidence and climbed out.
"Wait here," I told Luca and Nico, who'd followed in a second car. "If I'm not out in an hour, come in."
"Boss—" Luca started.
"One hour. I need to try this my way first."
They exchanged glances but nodded.
I walked into the building. The receptionist—Carla, middle-aged, who had been with Antonio for years—looked up in surprise.
"Mr Santoro! We weren't expecting you back until—"
"Is my uncle in?"
"Yes, but he's in a meeting—"
"Cancel it."
I walked past her desk, down the hallway to Antonio's private office. Didn't knock. Just opened the door and walked in.
Antonio sat behind his massive mahogany desk, phone to his ear. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me—the only sign of surprise he'd allow himself.
"I'll call you back," he said into the phone, then hung up. "Jeremy. You're back early. Chicago must have gone well."
"It did." I closed the door behind me. Locked it. "We need to talk."
"About what?" But his eyes flicked to the briefcase in my hand. He knew. Or suspected.
"About Amelia. You, taking her from Crimson. About the threats you made to force her compliance." I moved to one of the chairs facing his desk but didn't sit. "About you using her as leverage against me."
Antonio leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't." I set the briefcase on his desk. "Don't insult my intelligence. We both know what you did. The question is how we resolve it."
"Resolve what? I gave the girl shelter. Protection. She's much safer at the estate than at Marco's bar." His smile was thin. "You should be thanking me."
"She's locked in a room. You've been making her massage you and other dirty stuff you might have in mind." I opened the briefcase and pulled out the first folder. "And while we're discussing things you shouldn't be doing—let's talk about your meetings with Viktor Volkov."
His expression didn't change. "I meet with many people. It's part of my job."
"Not in secret warehouses. Not to sell Family information." I dropped the folder on his desk. Photographs spilt out. Antonio was meeting Viktor. Shaking hands. Exchanging envelopes. "Three meetings in the last two months. Want to explain those?"
Antonio glanced at the photos, then back at me. "Surveillance photos can be misleading. I was gathering intelligence on the Volkovs. It's called counterintelligence work."
"Really? Then explain these." I dropped another folder. Bank statements. "Three point two million dollars in offshore accounts. The information was not recorded in the family ledgers. It is not used for Family business. Your personal nest egg, I assume?"
His jaw tightened. "You've been investigating me."
"You've been betraying us." I dropped the final folder. Communications. Transcripts. You engaged in the sale of territorial information. Shipment schedules. Security protocols. The Volkovs had access to everything they needed to disrupt our operations.
Antonio stood slowly and moved around his desk to examine the documents. His face was calm, but I could see his mind working. Calculating.
"Who else knows about this?" he asked finally.
"My investigator. Two of my men are involved in this investigation. No one else. Yet."
"Yet." He looked up at me. "You haven't shown this to your father."
"No."
"Why not?" He asked as he studied my face. "You have proof of treason here. This evidence is sufficient to have me removed. Possibly killed. Why come to me first instead of Dominic?"
"Because I want Amelia back. And I want this resolved without tearing the Family apart." I met his eyes. "You release her. Immediately. You stop undermining me to my father. You back off. And in exchange, I don't show him this evidence."
"You'd let me go? Just like that?" Antonio's smile was cold. "That doesn't sound like you, nephew. You're too much like your father. Too rigid. Too by-the-book."
"I'm practical. A family war over you wouldn't help anyone. But I won't leave Amelia in your control." I stepped closer. "This is your chance, Antonio. Take the deal. Walk away from this with your position intact. Your life intact."
He was quiet for a long moment, studying the documents spread across his desk.
Then he laughed.
"You think you have me cornered," he said. "You think this evidence is airtight. But Jeremy—" He tapped one of the folders. "—evidence can be questioned. Especially when the person presenting it has obvious bias."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you being obsessed with a blind girl. You are so obsessed that you would fabricate evidence against your own uncle to justify your actions. He moved back to his chair and sat down. "That's the story I'd tell Dominic. That you manufactured all of this because I had concerns about your relationship with Amelia. That you're trying to remove me so no one questions your judgement."
My blood went cold. "He'd never believe that," I said.
"Wouldn't he? I've been underboss for fifteen years. Loyal. Dedicated. Never given him reason to doubt me." Antonio leaned forward. "You, on the other hand, have been distracted for weeks. Skipping meetings. Hiring investigators to find some girl. Putting her under family protection even though she is a liability. Your father's already questioning your priorities."
"These documents are real—"
"Are they? Or did your investigator create them at your request? Bank statements can be faked. Photos can be staged. Communications can be fabricated." He smiled. "Your father would have to investigate. Verify. And during that investigation, who do you think he'd side with? His brother of fifty years? Or his son, who's clearly compromised by an attachment to a girl?"
He was right.
Cristo, he was right.