Chapter 5 - The Banquet of Lies
The grand dining hall of the villa was a masterpiece of Renaissance architecture, bathed in the warm, glittering glow of massive crystal chandeliers. Isabella sat at the head of the long mahogany table, flanked by the five Sicilian Dons and their top lieutenants.
Outside, the gates were locked. Inside, thirty of Palermo’s best gunmen patrolled the halls, believing they owned the estate.
"This villa," Don Falcone mused, cutting into a rare steak, "is magnificent. I think I will use it as my summer home, Isabella. You won't mind moving to the guest house, will you?"
Isabella’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, realizing too late that she was not a partner to these men, but a pawn. "Of course not, Don Falcone. Whatever serves the family."
Deep beneath the floorboards, in the ancient catacombs connecting the wine cellar to the dining hall, Vittorio stood in the dark. He wore a flawless, midnight-black suit. His tie was perfectly knotted. He looked like the devil himself, polished and ready for a reckoning.
Behind him stood Alessio and fifty of Naples’ most fiercely loyal men. Men who had wept at the news of Vittorio’s death. Men who now burned with a silent, terrifying rage.
"Ready?" Alessio whispered, checking the magazine of his submachine gun.
"Cut the power," Vittorio ordered calmly. "Seal the iron shutters. Plunge the room into the abyss."
Upstairs in the dining hall, Isabella was mid-laugh when the chandeliers sparked and died.
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The massive room went pitch black. Heavy iron shutters slammed down over the windows with a deafening crash, sealing the room like a tomb. Panic instantly erupted. Chairs scraped violently against the marble floor. Guns were drawn. The Sicilian bodyguards began shouting in the darkness, their flashlights frantically clicking on, sweeping the room.
Then, a single, blinding spotlight flickered on at the far end of the long mahogany table.
