The security guard at the gate straightens when he sees me. "Mr. Monti. Wasn't expecting you today."
"Business came up." We’re waved in and my driver lets me off at the front entrance.
Inside the main office, I hear voices from the back room. I recognize Vince, but not the others.
I enter silently, catching them mid-conversation over open ledgers.
"—just need to adjust these manifests before the—" Pascale freezes when he sees me, his weathered face paling. "Mr. Monti. What brings you here?"
I smile, the kind of smile my father wore before someone disappeared. "Funny story. Our quarterly audit found some interesting numbers."
Davidson starts sweating immediately.
Vince looks terrified.
Pascale appears confused.
I step closer, my voice deadly calm. “A quarter of a million missing. Is it a math error or is someone using the Monti family as a bank?”
All three men look at each other and then me.
“It won’t take me long to figure it out,” I say. “I’ll check your financials. Your wives’ and kids’ accounts. Reach out to the clubs and hustlers you may owe money to.”
Vince looks like he’s going to faint, which doesn’t make him innocent, but he’s not about to confront me.
Davidson holds his hands out like he’s being robbed. “I swear, Mr. Monti, I don’t know anything about it.”
Pascale's hand twitches toward his jacket. Mistake.
I have my gun against his temple before he can blink. "Seven years in Italy improved my reflexes."
"Mr. Monti?—”
"Shut up. Didn’t anyone teach you that stealing is bad? Especially from a family like ours?”
The resignation in his eyes tells me everything.
No denials.
No excuses.
"Didn’t our family treat you well enough?”
"Your father is dying. The business is at risk. I'm just securing my retirement."
I press the barrel of my gun against his head, forcing his head to tilt to the side. “My father isn’t dying.” He’s just going senile. “The business isn’t at risk at all except from you.”
"Your father would understand," he says.
"My father would have put a bullet in your head already." I step back, gun still trained on him. "But I'm not my father."
I see confusion flicker across his face, followed by the faintest glimmer of hope.
"I'm worse.” I pull the trigger. The sound echoes like thunder in the small room as Pascale's body crumples to the floor. Blood stains the papers scattered around him.
Vince and Davidson flinch, their eyes trained on me in fear that they’ll be next.
"This is how we deal with traitors." I holster my gun. "Now, let’s talk about your future."
