The grand premises of the D'Amico Cassano mansion were ablaze with activity, bustling with the voices of diligent servants scurrying about. Senior members of the family issued instructions and orders to their junior counterparts, setting the stage for an impending event. Venezio, the head of the family, emerged from his opulent suite and made his way downstairs, greeted by respectful salutations from the servants as he passed by.
The dining table had already been prepared, occupied by the only remaining members of the D'Amico Cassano family-Venezio's brother and sister. The air hung heavy with tension, for whenever Venezio made his infamous demand for punctuality, it signaled that something grave and horrendous was about to unfold. It often meant one thing: war. Or more precisely, the erasure of someone's existence from this earth.
Taking his seat at the head of the table, Venezio settled with a serious countenance as the servants moved about silently, fulfilling their duties of serving the masters. The dining room filled with the clinking sounds of silverware and glassware, and with each passing second, the tension in the room escalated. The two younger siblings exchanged glares, their expressions fraught with animosity.
Pausing momentarily, Venezio set down his fork on the plate, using the napkin to dab at his already-clean mouth. Clearing his throat, he commanded the attention of his younger sister, Dalia, who sat beside him. His voice carried the weight of authority, but there was a lethal edge to it-a don's command, not that of a brother.
"Dalia, I want her dead by tomorrow morning, without fail," he ordered, his words dripping with a cold determination that brooked no opposition.
Unfazed by his menacing tone, Dalia met his gaze with a poker face and retorted, "If you think I will comply with this order, Mister D'Amico Cassano, then you gravely underestimate me."
"Are you challenging me, Miss D'Amico Cassano? I did not ask for your opinion. I gave you an order, and if you refuse, I will take matters into my own hands. Everyone here knows how I deal with my prey," Venezio declared, his gaze matching her defiant stare.
"She is not one of them. Please stop making assumptions," Dalia asserted, her unwavering gaze fixed upon her brother.
"I will do it myself," Venezio stated firmly, rising from his seat. But before he could leave the dining area, Dalia halted him with a resolute statement.
"I will prove to you that she is not involved within a week."
Observing the tense standoff between his siblings, Delrico, who had been silently observing the proceedings, was well aware of the situation at hand. Venezio had already confided in him about the Russian deal and Vincent's abduction. He and his love, Ziana, had become victims caught in the crossfire between the mafia and an agent. In Delrico's eyes, Celia was a potential threat, although they lacked concrete evidence to substantiate their suspicions. However, if she was indeed involved with the government, Venezio would ensure that she became the last agent to expose their mafia. He vowed to eliminate every person involved in this treacherous game, fueled by his frustration with their constant attempts to unmask the D'Amico Cassano family.
Delrico couldn't fathom his brother's intentions regarding the Romano incident, but he knew it would serve as an intimidating message to the underworld or their enemies.
Certainly, the case had become convoluted.
Venezio spun around, his face mere inches away from Dalia's, his fists clenched tightly, barely containing his rage.
"Don't make me hate you now," he seethed, his teeth gritted as a faint snarl escaped his lips. His patience had reached its breaking point, evidenced by the veins pulsating on his forehead.
Dalia scoffed at his remark. "Tell me, did you ever truly love me? Speaking of hatred! You bound me to Vincent from the age of 18, all for the sake of your mafia, forging alliances with foreign criminal organizations. I followed every single command and order you gave me, whether it was managing the business or dictating my studies and social interactions. From agreeing to marry Vincent to meeting his parents-I am not a mere puppet for you to manipulate as you please. You promised Father that you would take care of us, but instead, you have exploited us for your own gains. I would rather die than have a brother like you, a brother disguised as Venezio D'Amico Cassano." Tears flowed down her cheeks like a river, her eyes red from the years of hurt and pent-up emotion. Taking a step forward, she stood firm, challenging him further. "If she so much as gets a scratch on her body because of you, believe me, I will kill you and dismantle your mafia single-handedly. She is not involved in this affair like our sister-in-law. And I will prove it to you within a week. Until then, I don't want you anywhere near her." With her passionate monologue concluded, she stood still, her breaths long and deep, attempting to calm herself.
For now, Delrico knew that his sister was prepared to employ equal measures of disastrous violence on behalf of that woman. He was astonished to witness her unwavering commitment to protect Celia.
"Are you blackmailing me?" Venezio inquired, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue.
"Yes!" Dalia replied resolutely.
"So, if she is indeed involved, that means we can eliminate her?" Venezio asked, a smirk creeping onto his face as he seized upon a mistake in her warning, exploiting her loyalty to the woman.
"Try me! She is not someone you can kill," Dalia corrected his assumption once again, knowing well that Celia was not an agent and posed no threat to their family. Celia was too naive, too innocent to even harm a fly, let alone involve herself in this treacherous blood game.
Venezio realized that pushing his dear sister any further would be a grave mistake when she responded with the resolute phrase, "You have one week only." With a sharpened gaze, he turned toward Delrico, gesturing for him to follow. After casting one last hard glance in Dalia's direction, he stormed off to his office.
Dalia remained rooted in her spot, grappling with the newfound animosity she held against her elder brother. The embrace from Delrico broke the spell of her emotions. "You have truly grown, little Lia. Would you like to visit your sister-in-law?" Delrico asked in a gentle tone, understanding her state of mind.
"Sure," she replied, breaking the embrace, a soft smile gracing her face. Wiping away her remaining tears, she mustered a sense of composure. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. Take care of yourself." She nodded slightly, and Delrico planted a tender kiss on her forehead before heading to Venezio's office.
Dalia stood still, absorbing the newfound resentment within her towards her elder brother.
****
The two brothers were sitting on opposite side of each other, puffing out the cigarettes. And checking all the file related the Romano. Highlighting the main points of the deal between them.
A knock on the door interrupted their toil. With a faint 'come-in' of Venezio. His guard entered with a box in his hand.
"This is dropped by a delivery boy for you." The guard said, Venezio looked from the parcel to him. And finally nodded for him to place the box on the table.
He does so, and leaves the room. Putting down the file in his hand he rounds his table and opens the box with the help of the cutter in his pen holder.
The box contains a letter and a square box in it. Taking out the letter he opened the folds and read it.
A little surprise for you big don. Make sure to wear gloves while opening the second box.
See you soon.
Hope you enjoy it!
Good day.
Perplexed for a moment, Delrico snatched the letter from Venezio's grasp and read it in silence. His brow furrowed as he absorbed the disturbing contents. After finishing, he reached into the drawer and retrieved a pair of gloves. With a hesitant thought, he slid the blade of his knife across the tape securing the second box. As the flaps opened, his eyes widened at the gruesome sight that met his gaze-a severed head, drenched in dried blood.
Vincent Romano is no longer alive....
YOU ARE READING
His Villain
Action"I am merely a performer. I am not a whore or an object to satisfy your desires," tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke. "I don't care," he retorted callously. "Fuck you," she spat, her voice trembling with anger and defiance. "That was precisely...
