Chapter 2 - THE BURNING BRIDGES
The question hung in the air, heavy and lethal. Dominic Salvatore’s dark eyes locked onto the waitress, completely ignoring his wife’s trembling hands and spiraling panic.
"My name is Elara," she said, her voice dropping the last trace of servitude. "And until five minutes ago, I was simply an observer for a federal task force that has been tracking the Moretti family’s financial anomalies. Anomalies that, strangely enough, keep tracing back to your wife’s private accounts."
Isabella lunged. It wasn't a calculated move; it was the desperate, clawing panic of a cornered animal. She reached for the steak knife resting on the silver charger, but before her fingers could even graze the mahogany handle, Vincent Rizzo had her wrist pinned to the table. The sharp crack of bone against wood echoed through the dining room.
"Dominic, she’s lying!" Isabella shrieked, the veneer of high society completely shattered. "She’s a fed! She’s trying to tear us apart!"
Dominic slowly leaned back in his leather chair. He didn't look angry. He looked fascinated. "Let her go, Vincent."
Vincent released Isabella’s wrist, stepping back into the shadows, though his hand never left his coat.
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"She is a federal agent, Isabella," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Which means if she wanted to arrest us, this room would already be filled with tactical gear, not evening gowns. So, Elara. Why are you serving me drinks instead of a warrant?"
Elara didn't blink. "Because my superiors want to build a ten-year RICO case. I just want the Morettis dismantled. And I happen to know you want the exact same thing."
