THE MAFIA’S HIDDEN CROWN

The following morning, Damián summoned Tomás Arriaga to his private study. The room was soundproof, lined with centuries-old books and dominated by a massive mahogany desk. When Tomás entered, he found Damián casually cleaning a disassembled Glock 19, the metallic clicks echoing loudly in the quiet room.

Tomás halted near the door, sweat immediately beading on his forehead. "You... you asked to see me, Patrón?"

"Sit, Tomás," Damián didn't look up, expertly oiling the slide of the weapon.

Tomás practically collapsed into one of the leather armchairs, his eyes darting to the gun, then to the door. "Is there a problem with the wedding budget?"

"The wedding budget is fine," Damián said, smoothly reassembling the pistol with a final, authoritative snap. He placed the loaded weapon on the desk between them. He finally looked up, his dark eyes locking onto the accountant. "I want to talk about construction. Specifically, the new warehouse project in Sinaloa. The one managed by Renata Holdings LLC."

Tomás stopped breathing. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse. "I... I don't know what you mean, boss. That's a subsidiary..."

"Don't insult my intelligence, Tomás," Damián interrupted, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. He pulled a thick manila folder from a drawer and tossed it across the desk. It landed heavily in Tomás’s lap. "Four million dollars. Bled out over eighteen months. Offshore accounts. Shell companies. All while you sat at my dinner table, drank my wine, and smiled in my face."

Tomás began to hyperventilate. He opened the folder with shaking hands, staring at bank statements, wire transfers, and photographs of himself entering the Cayman Islands bank branch. He dropped the folder as if it were on fire and fell to his knees on the Persian rug.

"Patrón, please! I can explain! It was her! Renata made me do it!" Tomás sobbed, abandoning his lover in a heartbeat to save his own skin. "She said if I didn't help her build a nest egg, she would tell you I assaulted her! She manipulated me!"

Damián stood up slowly, walking around the desk. He looked down at the pathetic, sniveling man with absolute disgust. "You are a coward, Tomás. You steal my money, you sleep in my house, you kiss my fiancée, and when caught, you blame the woman you claim to love."

Tomás froze, his tear-filled eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated horror. He realized Damián knew everything.

"Yes," Damián whispered, leaning down. "I know about the foyer. I know about the wine. I know about the plans to put my mother in a cheap nursing home."

"Please, God, Damián, don't kill me! I'll give it all back! I'll leave the country!"

"Kill you?" Damián let out a dark, humorless laugh. "Death is a release, Tomás. I am not going to give you peace. You are going to attend my wedding rehearsal tonight. You are going to smile. You are going to play your part perfectly. And if you attempt to run, if you attempt to warn Renata, Ramiro has orders to find your parents in Guadalajara and burn their bakery to the ground with them inside. Do we understand each other?"