Chapter 54 The Plan
They drove back to the safe house in silence.
Siobhan sat between Liam and Alessia in the back seat. Her hands still trembling from the zip ties, but her posture was rigid and composed. She hadn’t said a word since leaving the pub—just stared straight ahead, like she was trying to lock the world out and process everything at once.
When they arrived at the hidden entrance to Sullivan & Co., Finn and the others were waiting.
“Boss—” Finn started.
“Later,” Liam said sharply. His voice was tight, rough around the edges. “Get inside all of you, we need to plan.”
The basement felt like a war room. Maps and blueprints were spread across the table. The Scarpetti estate. Security layouts. Guest lists for the birthday gala.
“Don Salvatore’s sixtieth,” Liam said, voice taut, restrained. “The social event of the year for the families with two hundred guests from politicians to judges, business partners and everyone who matters.”
“Which means security will be massive,” Finn said.
“No.” Alessia shook her head. “Visible, yes. Tight? No. My father’s ego demands he appear untouchable. Looking vulnerable in front of guests? Never. Armed guards inside the party would make him look weak and paranoid.”
“So the inside security…” Rory prompted.
Alessia pulled up photographs of previous events. “Perimeter guards. Twenty, maybe twenty-five. Cameras, motion sensors inside? Five or six guards, discreetly placed. The rest are family and guests.”
“That’s still five or six trained killers between you and your target,” Mark pointed out.
“I know.” Alessia’s voice didn’t waver. “But I have an advantage. I’m his daughter. I can get closer to him than any outsider could.”
Liam’s voice was low, cautious. “And then what? You shoot him in front of two hundred people?”
“Yes.”
The word hung there. Heavy.
Siobhan made a small sound—not a gasp, not quite a laugh.
“That’s insane,” Finn said, flatly.
“It’s the only way,” Alessia said, steady, unflinching. “If I try to lure him somewhere private, he’ll suspect. He knows me. He knows I hate him. Publicly, with maximum shock value—”
“You claim power through the act itself,” Liam said slowly, understanding dawning. “You want to go old school, like in the 80's”
“Exactly.” Alessia traced the estate layout with a finger. “I walk in as the prodigal daughter. Demand to speak to him. He’ll be embarrassed but compelled to engage—refusing me publicly makes him look weak. I get close. I shoot. Then—”
“Then chaos,” Mark said. “Everyone panics. Guards converge. You’re trapped.”
“That’s where you come in,” Alessia said, eyes on Liam. “I need a diversion. Big enough to pull half the guards away while I handle the inside.”
Liam nodded slowly. “We can do that. Something that screams attack without actually being an attack.”
“And while they’re distracted,” Alessia continued, “I take out my father. Secure his office—codes, documents. Walk out as the new Don.”
“You make it sound simple,” Rory muttered.
“It’s not simple,” Alessia said, voice hard. “Nearly impossible. But it’s the only option we have.”
“What about the other families?” Finn asked. “The moment you kill Don Scarpetti, every other Don in New York will be watching. They won’t accept a woman taking control. They’ll challenge you immediately.”
“Let them.” Alessia’s eyes were cold. “I’ll hold the ports. The power. The leverage. Anyone who challenges me loses access to the most profitable routes on the East Coast. They fall in line or they’re cut out.”
“And Valeria?” Liam asked. “The cartel?”
“She’ll be watching from a distance. She wants to see if I can do this. If I can, we have her support. If I can’t—”
Alessia didn’t finish. They all knew.
Siobhan had been silent, arms wrapped around herself, watching. Now she spoke, quiet but steady.
“The service tunnels.”
Everyone turned.
“What?” Liam asked.
“The Scarpetti estate has old service tunnels. Prohibition era used for smuggling. Some sealed, some not.”
“How do you know about the Scarpetti tunnels?” Alessia asked carefully.
Siobhan’s eyes were painful. “I’ve been there multiple times with James.”
The name hit like a punch.
James Song. Cormac’s spy. Her betrayal disguised as affection.
“Siobhan—” Liam started.
“I know,” she interrupted. “I know he was working for Cormac. I figured it out weeks ago. But before that, he took me places. Showed me things including the estate. I stupidly went along.” Her voice was tight, bitter. “I was embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted to handle it myself. But I remember the tunnels. He pointed them out, said they could be useful. I didn’t know then. Now I do.”
Alessia leaned closer. “Where do they lead?”
“It leads to multiple access points like the greenhouse, wine cellar and one more important place that goes directly under the main house kitchen.”
Silence.
“The kitchen,” Alessia repeated slowly. “During a party.”
“Exactly,” Siobhan said. “Chaos in the kitchen. Staff moving. No one pays attention to service areas. Perfect infiltration point.”
“But they could be sealed,” Mark objected.
“Could be our only way that doesn’t involve Alessia walking through the front alone,” Liam said, eyes meeting hers. “Are you sure?”
“I mapped them. Photos. Planned an escape. To leave this life. But I can’t escape. Not while you’re in danger. Not while Alessia risks everything.” She stood. Fierce. “We do this, we do it right. I guide you through tunnels, place the team, extract Alessia.”
“Too dangerous,” Liam said immediately.
“Everything about this is dangerous,” Siobhan shot back. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m not fragile. I’m your sister. Let me help.”
Liam studied her. Long. Hard. Finally, he nodded.
“Okay. But no main house. Guide us through tunnels, then extraction point. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He turned back to the maps. “Show me everything.”
Siobhan pulled up old photos, notes. Months of planning. Escape plans turned into assassination strategy.
As they worked through the night, identifying weak points, preparing contingencies, Alessia felt a shift.
They weren’t just surviving.
They were attacking.
One week. Seven days to prepare for the most dangerous night of their lives.
Seven days until Alessia Scarpetti walked into her father’s party and walked out something else entirely.
A killer.
A Don.
A woman finally taking control of her own story.
Even if it killed her.