Chapter 122
Frand let out a sneer, "Back then, it was me who got Colt to trick Isabella into going to that party."
"Otherwise, how would you have met her? At one of those boring charity galas in Thalassia's high society? Or at her tiny little accounting firm? No, you wouldn't have. It was me who drove this lost little deer right into your hunting ground."
Vitale's fingers tightened slightly at his side, a dull pain throbbing in his left palm, wrapped around a bloodstained tie.
"I don't need your help," Vitale's voice was ice-cold, "Frand, I've warned you before—don't mess with her again, not even once. If you dare to target Isabella, or even mention her name with that filthy mouth of yours..."
His gaze dropped to the serrated dagger Frand had stuck into the table, then shifted back to Frand's eyes.
"Next time, this knife will go somewhere far more critical than any of tonight's wounds. I promise you'll regret ever having the ability to speak."
The signature smirk on Frand's face finally vanished completely.
It was replaced by a dark expression mixed with shock, confusion, and a hint of disappointment.
"You're obsessed with that woman, like a complete idiot, Vitale. Can you see anything besides her in your eyes? Can you see what we're losing?"
Frand waved his hand sharply, pointing at the ground beneath his feet as if gesturing to the vast, shadowy underworld empire.
"You really want to turn the Luca family's business completely legit? Money laundering, investments, running proper companies?"
"I've heard you even let Isabella meet that friend of hers, Doria. That woman's husband is a politician, running for some city council seat!"
"You're putting us all under the spotlight, right in the jaws of those suit-wearing, law-and-morality-spouting hyenas! This isn't a good thing, Vitale. This is suicide!"
Vitale frowned.
About Doria, Isabella had mentioned her, saying she was a close friend from her school days and that they occasionally met up after reconnecting.
He had looked into Doria's background. Her husband, Elliot, was an ambitious young politician with a clean record, and so far, there was no connection to the underworld.
Isabella had also never revealed anything about his business to Doria.
"How did you come to that conclusion?" Vitale's voice remained as calm as ever, but deep down, Frand's words had set off alarm bells.
Frand might be crazy, but he wasn't a fool who spoke without reason.
"How did I come to it?" Frand laughed as if he'd heard the funniest joke ever, "While your precious little Isabella is out shopping, having afternoon tea, and sharing girly secrets with the esteemed Mrs. Martinez, does she even know that, at the same time, her dear friend's husband has ordered the cops to shut down three of our underground trading spots?"
His words sped up, suppressed anger and panic finally bursting out, "Not just warnings or searches—they kicked down the doors with solid evidence, grabbing our guys like they were catching rats. Do you know how much we've lost?"
"Those goods, that cash, those relationships and clients we've built over the years—I'm out of options, Vitale. That's why I resorted to this dumb way of causing a scene at your place, to drag you back from that cozy paradise in Thalassia!"
"To make you see that your new life is pulling everything from our old world into the abyss!"
"You stabbed me with a knife, and I won't hold it against you, Vitale."
"But right now, what you should be doing isn't standing here betting a finger with me. You need to go back and ask your woman if she's ever let something slip—on the pillow, or over a coffee table—to her dear friend. About your whereabouts? Your business partners? Even just a vague address or a name that seems unimportant?"
Frand stepped closer, his eyes locked on Vitale, "Otherwise, tell me, how did the Eldoria police—y'know, the ones we've been paying off for years—how did they show up so fast? So precise? Like someone handed them a map and the keys!"
Vitale's brow furrowed.
Deep down, his trust in Isabella was rock solid.
His woman was smart and careful. She knew the dangers of his world and would never carelessly leak anything that could put him or herself at risk.
She loved him—he never doubted that.
But Frand's words slithered in like a venomous snake, finding cracks to slip through.
Doria's husband was a politician. Cracking down on crime was his ticket to success.
Isabella and Doria were close friends. Women might share secrets.
The police operation was indeed too precise, too quick...
No, something's off.
Vitale forced himself to step back from his emotions, analyzing the situation with the cold, calculating mindset he used to process intel.
It was too coincidental, almost staged.
He didn't respond to Frand's accusations right away. Instead, he walked to the table, pulled a sleek cigar case from his suit's inner pocket, and leisurely took out a cigar, clipped it, and lit it.
The faint blue flame flickered, illuminating his unfathomable eyes.
Vitale took a deep drag, letting the sharp smoke swirl in his lungs before slowly exhaling.
The action helped him regain control.
"Frand," he spoke, his voice sounding a bit distant behind the smoke, "I remember, just before I came to Eldoria, Costa caught a few guys for me. Some rats who'd been stirring trouble at the border, trying to hijack a crucial shipment of ours."
"I dealt with them myself not long ago. Didn't get the chance to find out who was behind it before they were snatched by some unidentified group halfway, right?"
Frand froze for a moment, clearly not expecting the conversation to shift here.
A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but the memory of that incident quickly came back.
"Yeah, I heard about those guys. Costa went hard on them, but they didn't spill anything. When they were taken, they were probably barely alive."
"Then, a couple of days later, their remains were found on a barren hill outside the city, almost completely torn apart by wild animals. I always thought that was your doing, Vitale. Cleaning house, or sending a message."
Vitale let out a cold chuckle, devoid of warmth, "If I torture someone myself, I'd never let them get snatched from under my nose. You know my style, Frand. Either I get what I want out of them, or I make them disappear for good, clean and simple." He flicked the cigar ash, "Besides, that shipment they targeted was special. It wasn't just about money or drugs. It is tied to something much older."
He looked up, his gaze sharp as a hawk's, "I've been searching for years. Searching for the traitor who sold out my father, leading to his death in prison."
"Searching for the real mastermind behind my mother's death."
Frand's expression turned serious.
This was a wound in Vitale's heart that had never healed, one of the dark forces driving him to where he was today.
"You suspect..." Frand asked cautiously.
Vitale exhaled a long stream of smoke, dissipating slowly in the dim light.
"I suspect it's Marco, the man who was once my father's most trusted and skilled mafia lawyer."
"After my father's death, he disappeared for a while. In recent years, he's resurfaced, now posing as the chief legal advisor for some anti-mafia civilian investigation group."
"A so-called champion of justice, gathering evidence of mafia crimes to help the police and prosecutors with their cases."
Vitale walked to the monitor, the screen's light flickering across his face.
"I suspect this series of events—the precise ambush on the border shipment, those tough guys being snatched and then conveniently found dead, the sudden, accurate police raids on our spots, and even the attempt to sow doubt and discord through someone close to Isabella—it's all orchestrated by this group, or rather, by Marco behind the scenes."
"He's using methods he knows well to tear us apart from the inside. He knows our weaknesses, how we operate, and..."
Vitale turned to face Frand, his gaze deep and piercing, "How to use the people we care about to make us slip up."