Chapter 222 An Unhappy prisoner

Chapter 222 An Unhappy prisoner
Ridge took a slow step forward, towering over the old man, his dark eyes burning with absolute, chilling resolve.

"If I want a happy home, then I have to eradicate the rot at the root. I have to get rid of Vicenzo and Damien once and for all. And I already know the exact two ways we're going to do it."

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly, the sharp edge of his earlier frustration vanishing instantly, replaced by grim, cautious interest. He knew that look on Ridge’s face. It was the look of a man who had backed himself into a corner and decided to burn down the entire room rather than surrender.

"I'm listening," Arthur murmured, crossing his arms over his chest. "Give me the options."

Ridge leaned against the edge of the metal desk, crossing his own powerful arms, his voice dropping into a low, calculating register.

"Option one," Ridge stated coldly. "We call in Rafaele."

Arthur let out a sharp, sudden hiss of breath through his teeth. "Rafaele? The Sicilian ghost again? Ridge, you know what kind of debt comes with calling in a favor from the syndicate lords across the Atlantic. That isn't a partnership; that’s selling a piece of your soul to the devil. He doesn't just eliminate targets; he erases entire bloodlines."

"I don't care about the debt," Ridge cut him off flatly. "If Rafaele's cleaners sweep through this city, Vicenzo won't even have time to scream. It’s fast, it’s absolute, and it leaves zero survivors."

"And option two?" Arthur asked, his voice tightening as he realized the alternative was likely just as dangerous.

Ridge stared down at the floor for a long moment, a dark, calculating smirk touching the corner of his mouth,a smile that held zero humor and a hundred percent malice.

"Option two," Ridge whispered, "we go straight to the maximum-security federal penitentiary downtown."

Arthur frowned, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. "The penitentiary? Why the hell would we go there? We have no business with federal inmates."

"We have business with one inmate," Ridge corrected smoothly. "Jason."

The name dropped into the bunker like a live grenade.

Arthur stared at him in absolute disbelief. "Jason Wang?Elisa’s psycho ex-fiancé? That kidnapper currently rotting away in a six-by-eight concrete box because he tried to ruin her life? Have you completely lost your mind, Ridge? He hates your guts! He’s the one who leaked the initial intel to Vicenzo!"

"Exactly," Ridge nodded, his dark eyes flashing with cold, strategic brilliance. "Jason hates me, yes. But do you know what he hates even more? Vicenzo."

Ridge began pacing slowly across the concrete floor, his boots clicking rhythmically against the grates.

"Jason's own billionaire father completely abandoned him the second he got locked away," Ridge explained, ticking the points off on his fingers. "The Lee’s washed their hands of him like he was garbage. He has no money, no protection, and no future inside that prison. He's a starving animal in a cage."

"And what makes you think a starving animal won't bite your hand off the second you open the door?" Arthur countered sharply.

"Because we aren't going there to make a friend; we're going there to make a compromise," Ridge stopped pacing, turning back to face the old man. "Jason spent years worming his way into Vicenzo’s criminal network before he got caught. He knows where the syndicate hides its offshore accounts. He knows the exact blueprint of their underground warehouses, their smuggling routes, and their safehouses. He has every single password and access code Vicenzo trusts him with."

Arthur’s eyes slowly widened as the sheer, brutal brilliance of the strategy began to click into place.

"You want to use Jason as an insider," Arthur whispered, a slow grin spreading across his weathered face. "You want to turn Elisa’s obsessive ex against the very syndicate he sold his soul to."

"Precisely," Ridge nodded. "We offer him a deal. Information, access codes, and a signed confession detailing Vicenzo’s entire operation in exchange for protection inside the cell block, a transfer to a lower-security facility, and maybe just maybe,knowing he won't be killed before his sentence is up. He gets revenge on Vicenzo for using him as a pawn, and we get the exact roadmap we need to dismantle the syndicate from the inside out without firing a single warning shot near the estate."

The bunker fell completely silent. The hum of the computer monitors felt distant, like white noise against the heavy, tactical weight of the two choices on the table.

Arthur rubbed his chin, walking slowly toward the console. He looked at the audio log of Vicenzo’s threat still blinking on the screen, then back up at Ridge.

"It’s a massive gamble," Arthur warned softly, his voice serious. "If Jason plays us,if he leaks our visit to Vicenzo or tries to double-cross you,it could blow up right in our faces. And if Elisa ever finds out you went to visit her ex-abuser behind her back... God help you, Ridge. She'll never forgive you. Not after the DNA test fiasco."

Ridge’s expression darkened. The thought of Elisa finding out he was dealing with Jason,the man who had terrorized her before they were even married,twisted a knot of pure lead in his stomach. She would lose her mind. She would pack up baby Sunny and leave before the ink on the marriage certificate was even dry.

"She won't find out," Ridge said, his voice dropping into an absolute, unshakeable vow. "Because we aren't going to fail. And we aren't going to give Jason a chance to double-cross us. We're going to tie every single loose end before he even realizes what hit him."

Arthur let out a long, heavy sigh, shaking his head as a small, admiring smirk touched his lips.

"God help anyone who stands in your way when you're in this mood, boy," Arthur muttered, leaning back against the desk. "So... which path are we taking? Are we calling the Sicilian ghost, or are we going to go feed a starving wolf in a cage?"

Ridge looked back at the main monitor, watching the flashing red warning light of Vicenzo’s intercepted transmission. He thought of Elisa upstairs—laughing, glowing, holding their baby son in the sunlight, completely unaware of the monsters lurking just outside the iron gates. He thought of the flowers he had brought her, and the terrifying promise he had made to himself: I will never let anyone touch my family.

"We don't need a foreign army to clean our house, Arthur," Ridge said quietly, his voice hardening into cold, absolute steel. "We do it ourselves."

He turned on his heel, buttoning the front of his jacket with sharp, precise movements.

"We're going to pay a visit to a very unhappy prisoner."