Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Kitchen
The floorboards didn’t creak under Vinnie Gallo’s heavy boots as he slipped through the servants' entrance and into the cavernous, stainless-steel kitchen. At fifty-five, Vinnie possessed the thick, scarred build of a man who had survived a dozen turf wars, his salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to a skull lined with old knife marks.
Adrian was waiting by the marble island, holding the sealed glass vial between his thumb and forefinger.
Vinnie pulled off his damp leather gloves, his dark eyes darting around the empty kitchen before locking onto Adrian.
“Boss,” Vinnie muttered, keeping his voice low. “When your text came in, I thought it was a trap. Nobody sneaks into this house without Dominic’s boys knowing it. He’s got shifts posted at every perimeter gate.”
“Dominic thinks he owns the house,” Adrian replied, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that cut through the hum of the industrial refrigerators. “He thinks the man living upstairs is a vegetable waiting to be put out to pasture.”
Vinnie frowned, stepping closer. “What’s going on, Adrian? You look… different. Last week you looked like a corpse walking. Today you look like you’re ready to start a war.”
“I slept,” Adrian said simply.
Vinnie blinked, genuinely startled. “Slept? With what? The German pills?”
“No pills,” Adrian said, holding up the vial. “A three-year-old child walked into my room last night because she couldn't sleep. She told me she saw my brother putting drops into my evening tea.”
The kitchen went dead silent. The fluorescent light overhead flickered once, casting a harsh, buzzing shadow across Vinnie’s rugged face. The older enforcer didn't gasp or curse; his eyes merely narrowed into dangerous, calculating slits.
“Dominic,” Vinnie said flatly, testing the name like a bad taste in his mouth. “The golden boy. The Harvard business graduate who handles the shipping manifests and the political donations.”
“The very same,” Adrian said. “He’s been slowly poisoning me for three years. Not enough to kill me outright—that would raise too many questions among the capos and the commission. Just enough to induce chronic insomnia, cognitive decline, erratic behavior, and physical tremors. By the time the board meeting for the North American Port Syndicate came around next month, I would have been declared mentally unfit to lead. He would have taken over the chair unanimously, and I would have died quietly of a sudden stroke or heart failure in a private sanitarium.”
Vinnie let out a slow, heavy breath, shaking his head. “Clever son of a bitch. Too clean for a street guy. That’s corporate poison. Slow-acting neurotoxins, probably sourced through some medical contacts downtown. It mimics natural neurological degradation.”
“Take this vial,” Adrian commanded, handing the sealed glass container to Vinnie. “I want you to drive it personally to Dr. Elena Vance at the university medical center. Use our confidential medical channel. Tell her I want a full chromatographic analysis of every chemical compound in that liquid by sunrise. I want names, dosages, and exact properties.”
Vinnie took the vial, carefully slipping it into the inner pocket of his heavy wool coat. “Consider it done. Elena owes us; she’ll run it herself and keep her mouth shut. But Adrian… what’s your next move? If Dominic realizes you’re onto him, he might force the issue. He’s got half the younger soldiers loyal to his payroll now. He’s been throwing money around like water from your accounts.”
“Let him think he’s winning,” Adrian said, his lips tightening into a cold, merciless line. “A cornered rat makes mistakes. A rat that thinks he’s already won walks right into the trap.”
“And the kid?” Vinnie asked, glancing toward the grand staircase leading to the upper floors. “The housekeeper’s little girl? If Dominic finds out she saw him—”
“She stays right here,” Adrian interrupted, his tone brook-no-argument. “Double the personal security detail on the east wing. Put men we trust outside Sarah and Lily’s quarters. Anyone—anyone—who tries to get near them without my direct written authorization is to be neutralized immediately.”
Vinnie nodded firmly, pulling his gloves back on. “I’m on it, Boss. I’ll have the lab report back to you before noon. Watch your back until then. Dominic is hosting the quarterly shipping logistics dinner at the Grand Meridian tonight. He expects you to attend via video link from your study to approve the European expansion budget.”
May you like
Adrian smiled—a chilling, joyless expression that didn't reach his eyes.
“Tell him I’ll attend,” Adrian said softly. “In person.”
