Chapter 8 - The Ghost of the Family Tree
“Viktor is dead,” I said, the words tasting like copper and ash in my mouth. “I watched him flatline in the ICU after the warehouse siege in Palermo. I signed the death certificate myself.”
“That’s what we thought,” Marco replied over the secure line, the sound of keyboard clicking echoing in the background. “But someone just accessed the federal maritime shipping manifests tied to Viktor’s old offshore shell corporations ten minutes ago. The medical records out of Palermo were sealed under a Level-4 judicial injunction. Someone faked his death certificate, boss. Your uncle has been operating out of a safe harbor in Montreal for the last five years.”
My grip on the satellite phone tightened so hard my knuckles turned translucent.
Viktor. The ambitious, ruthless scorpion of the family who had always believed my father was too soft to run the syndicate properly. He had orchestrated the ambush in the Mott Street garage six years ago—the very ambush that had forced Camille into hiding while I was bleeding out on a warehouse floor.
He hadn't just tried to take the empire. He had tried to wipe out every branch of the family tree that stood between him and total control.
“Track the IP address of that maritime manifest access,” I commanded, my voice dropping into a lethal, quiet whisper. “Find out every asset, every account, and every operative currently deployed in New York under his banner.”
“Already on it, boss. But there’s more.” Marco hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Viktor’s men didn't just track your flight from Paris. They’ve been tracking Camille’s bank card transactions for three weeks. They knew she was moving to New York before she even packed her bags.”
I slowly lowered the phone from my ear, ending the call without another word.
Across the study, Camille was watching my face with terrifying clarity. She didn't need to hear the conversation; the look in my eyes told her everything she needed to know.
“It was Viktor, wasn't it?” she asked quietly.
“He’s alive,” I said.
Camille closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath, pressing her palms against the edge of the desk. “The monster under the bed. The one you swore you buried.”
“I thought he was dead, Camille,” I said, closing the distance between us until I was standing just a foot away from her. “If I had known he survived, I would have hunted him down to the ends of the earth before he ever laid eyes on this city.”
“Well, you didn't,” she fired back, opening her eyes, her gaze burning with furious tears. “And now my daughter is paying the price for a family feud that started before either of us were born!”
“She is our daughter,” I corrected sharply, the possessive weight of the word hanging heavily in the air between us. “And I am going to end this. Once and for all. Viktor wants a war for the remnants of the Vitali name? I’m going to give him a front-row seat.”
May you like
Before Camille could respond, the heavy oak door of the study swung open.
Marco stood in the doorway, his expression grim, holding a heavy manila folder. “Boss, we have a problem. One of Viktor’s local operatives just slipped past our outer perimeter perimeter sensors near the river dock. He left a package at the front gate.”
