Sixty seven

Sixty seven
  The Giancarlo’s
  The room still smelled of gunpowder and sweat. Failure always did.
  Luca Giancarlo stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out over the waking city. The skyline shimmered in the morning haze — sharp, beautiful, oblivious. Beneath it all, his empire simmered like a living thing, pulsing with movement, money, and blood.
  Behind him, Nico shifted uneasily. No one spoke unless Luca invited it. The weight of silence was part of the punishment.
  When he finally turned, his expression was composed, but his eyes — those cold, calculating eyes — burned with quiet fury.
  “You let them escape,” he said softly. “You still fools.”
  Marco swallowed hard. “We didn’t expect Frank to move so fast, boss. He must’ve had men nearby—”
  Luca raised a hand. The man fell silent immediately. “Don’t explain failure to me. Explain what you plan to do about it.”
  No answer came. Luca’s silence stretched long and sharp enough to cut.
  Finally, he walked to the desk and opened the black folder waiting there. Inside were surveillance photos — Frank, Delia, the chaos outside the apartment. One captured her perfectly: wide-eyed, terrified, a hand pressed protectively to her belly.
  Luca studied it for a long moment, then tapped his thumb against her image.
  “That woman,” he said quietly, “is going to be the end of him. I can feel it in my bones.”
  Nico cleared his throat carefully. “Frank’s always been hard to corner, boss. But now… maybe he’s distracted. Soft.”
  Luca’s mouth curved faintly. “Exactly. Love is a weakness. He’ll bleed for her, and when he does, we’ll take everything he’s built.”
  He closed the folder with a snap. “And Thomas,” he added, voice lowering. “Don’t forget Thomas.”
  A shadow crossed his face. “He thought he could outsmart me — play both sides. But now he’s caged. And soon, he’ll sign away everything that’s his.”
  Before anyone could respond, the door burst open.
  Samantha swept in like a storm — heels sharp on marble, perfume biting and sweet. Her fury filled the room before her words even landed.
  “Luca,” she hissed, “what’s taking so long?”
  Luca didn’t look surprised. He rarely did. “Good morning to you too, Samantha.”
  “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped, crossing the room to his desk. “You promised me Thomas would be handled. I want this finished — now.”
  He arched an eyebrow. “Handled how?”
  Her eyes glittered, the kind of glitter that came from hate, not fear. “Find him. Make him sign everything over — the company, the house, the accounts. I don’t care how you do it. I want his name erased, his power gone. He owes me, and I’m done waiting.”
  Luca tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle. “And Delia?”
  Samantha’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Kill that bitch and her brat.”
  Even Marco stiffened. “Kill her?”
  “Yea, you heard me. I want that bitch gone. She’s nothing,” Samantha continued. “A liability. Thomas’s weakness, Frank’s distraction. The sooner she’s gone, the easier it’ll be to make them both bend.”
  She straightened, a sharp gleam in her eyes. “I’m going back to the hospital after this. Visit my baby in the NICU. He needs me. And when I return, I want to see Thomas on his knees, signing everything to me. No excuses. No mistakes.”
  Luca regarded her for a long, silent moment, then turned back to the window. “You always were impatient.”
  “This isn’t about patience,” Samantha shot back. “It’s about control. Every day she’s alive, she makes him hesitate. You think Frank’s dangerous now? Wait until he believes he can protect her. She is a good for nothing bitch. Thomas signed his fate when he messed me about.” She clenched her jaw and let out a growl. 
  Luca smiled faintly — that small, unnerving smile that never reached his eyes. “We think alike, then.”
  He turned to Marco. “You heard her. I want eyes on Delia and her family — everyone connected to her. If she breathes, I want to know where. If she cries, I want to know why.”
  Marco nodded stiffly. “Yes, boss.”
  Luca looked back to Samantha, his tone silky but sharp. “You’ll get your empire, Samantha. But remember — when the blood starts to flow, you can’t wash it off.”
  Samantha’s smile didn’t falter. “I never planned to.”
  She turned on her heel, her heels echoing like gunshots as she left the room.
  When the door shut behind her, Luca exhaled slowly. “She’s ambitious,” he murmured. “That’s dangerous. But useful.”
  Nico shifted. “You trust her?”
  “Of course not,” Luca said with a soft laugh. “But she’s right about one thing — Frank’s weakness bleeds through that woman.”
  He picked up Delia’s photo again, studying it. “We won’t need to touch Thomas until Frank falls apart. Once Delia’s gone… he’ll follow.”
  Luca set the picture down carefully and reached for his glass.
  “Start the clock,” he said quietly. “By the time it runs out, they’ll both be begging for mercy.”
  And as he turned back to the window, sunlight cutting across his face like a blade, the faintest ghost of a smile played on his lips.