Chapter 6 - Bloodlines and Ballistics
The Hudson River safehouse was an impenetrable fortress disguised as a minimalist concrete-and-glass architectural masterpiece perched on a jagged cliff overlooking the water. Inside, private medical specialists had already set up a fully equipped trauma and geriatric care suite.
While doctors tended to Ruth’s severe respiratory infection, Aleandro sat in his private study on the top floor, watching the digital security feeds from his primary estate in Long Island.
On screen, Marco Castellano—his cousin and long-time underboss—was pacing behind Aleandro’s desk, pouring himself a glass of twenty-five-year-old scotch, surrounded by half a dozen armed loyalists. They thought Aleandro was dead, caught in an ambush while visiting a routine business front in the city.
"It's done," Marco muttered into a satellite phone, grinning like a shark. "The boss is gone. Pack up the eastern docks and prep the shipping containers for the Sicilian cartel. We're running things my way now."
Aleandro watched the feed in absolute, terrifying silence. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't break his glass. He simply tapped a code into his encrypted terminal, locking down every digital asset, bank account, and security protocol across the entire syndicate network. In one second, Marco had been given the keys to an empty kingdom.
"Boss," Vance said quietly, stepping into the study and laying a sealed manila folder on the desk. "The DNA sample from the brush we recovered in Brooklyn. We ran it against your genetic profile and Sophia’s medical records from Memorial Hospital."
Aleandro didn't open the folder. He already knew the answer.
"And?"
"99.99 percent match," Vance confirmed, his expression grim. "Annie is your biological daughter. And Marco... Marco knew about her existence six months ago. He’s the one who leaked her location to the hit squad tonight, trying to sever your bloodline before you ever found out."
Aleandro stood up slowly. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The grief of losing Sophia four years ago mutated instantly into a cold, focused, incandescent rage.
"Get the strike teams ready," Aleandro said softly, buttoning the cuffs of his black shirt. "We take back the estate in twenty minutes."
"What about the child?" Vance hesitated. "And the old woman?"
May you like
Aleandro walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, watching the moonlight cut across the dark waters of the Hudson. From the room next door came the faint, sweet sound of Annie laughing as a nurse handed her a warm cup of cocoa.
"They stay here under twenty-four-hour guard," Aleandro said without turning around. "If a single fly gets past your men, Vance, I'll feed you to the same sharks Marco is about swimming with."
