Chapter 16
Sixteen
N IKOLAS
The Domaine Matsa vineyards sloped down the hill, featuring grapevines arranged in neat, symmetrical rows, with vibrant clusters of ripening color.
Beyond the fields, a lively valley unfolded as rolling hills merged into the distance, each contour illuminated by the sun’s glow, all framed against a sky sprinkled with fluffy clouds.
The syndicates had intentionally targeted my competitor’s vineyard as a provocation, delivering a subtle dig to bruise my pride.
They sought to unsettle or distract me with their cold, calculated display of strength, hoping to catch me off guard and create the impression that they controlled this intricate power struggle.
However, their plan failed to gain traction.
I was well acquainted with the Matsa brand. While their everyday table wine had a limited audience, it could not compare to the exceptional vintages crafted by my vineyards.
Even their olive oil, though adequate for daily use, did not meet the high standards preferred by master chefs in the top- rated restaurants across Europe and beyond. Some may view my opinions as stemming from ego or family loyalty.
Nevertheless, my company’s net profits exceeded theirs for the past decade, indicating consumer preference for my products.
No matter how much money or advanced technology my competitors invested in, it never resulted in superior quality.
True excellence was born from years of dedicated work, refined expertise, and generations of finely honed knowledge.
They believed they could insult me without repercussions, which marked their first mistake. Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be their last.
My instincts warned of trouble ahead, even with my thorough preparations for every possible outcome.
Collaborating closely with Elias, we strategically positioned Galanis and Xenos troops around the city, creating a vigilant network of experienced fighters.
Recognizing the need for additional strength, I quickly organized reinforcements.
I even enlisted some of my most trusted relatives, including a group of cousins from Italy, who integrated seamlessly with our local units.
Their subtle yet formidable presence ensured our ground surveillance was unmatched.
If any ambush was planned against us that day, we would be the first to detect it.
It might have been excessive, but I wasn’t willing to take risks.
Alongside all the other dangers was Ozias Xenos.
He kept evading capture, and given that he was the foremost enemy of the Vitalis sisters, I decided to take no chances.
Those who remained loyal to Ozias had assisted him in fleeing from his holding room after the coup at his compound, where he had been captured.
Based on Elias’s work and my search, pinpointing every traitor proved nearly impossible.
It wouldn’t surprise me if one of the other influential families had helped the old man with his great disappearance.
Too bad they’d chosen the wrong side.
It was clear that today’s meeting wasn’t focused on avenging the brutal killings of Cristo Caras, Morisi Bella, and Pello Korba.
Although the official agenda was to address past grievances, everyone understood, albeit silently, that the real purpose was to confront the audacity of three Vitalis women assuming positions typically held by men.
Our traditions expected women to remain silent and stay in men’s shadows, never to outshine them.
Avra and Laya courageously opposed this notion, while Cali faced significant consequences for her defiance. The recollections of her past resistance continued to haunt her, like a persistent fog that might never entirely dissipate.
Certain individuals would oppose the impact of the Vitalis women until the very end, fueled by the mistaken belief that their outdated perspectives were the only truth. Their steadfast commitment to these outdated ideas was both baffling and frustrating.
How could they embrace cutting-edge technology while obstinately holding onto antiquated beliefs about women?
In contrast, the women I knew exemplified creativity and innovation. They were diligent, smart, and resourceful, traits that greatly exceeded what the majority of these individuals could achieve.
A few minutes later, with Pavlos trailing just a few steps behind, I reached the heavy, worn door and greeted Elias at the entrance.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” He gestured behind him. “The others are already seated.”
“Thanks, I’m ready,” I replied, and together we walked down a long, echoing hallway until we entered the tasting room of my competitor’s sprawling estate.
Soft, diffused light filled the room, highlighting the polished wood and the lingering aroma of vintage wine and leather, mingling with an undercurrent of tension.
I walked confidently toward the group, shoulders back and chin elevated, determined to convey that I considered their authority inferior to mine. My gaze swept the table, analyzing everyone present like pieces of a dangerous puzzle.
At the far end of the room, Vik sat like an immovable force, flanked by two empty chairs, emphasizing his authority. A group of familiar yet intimidating figures occupied the remaining four seats.
Among them was Leon Boscos. Aside from Elias, I was the only one aware that his people had uncovered the planned hits discussed by the men at today’s meeting. We intended to keep this intelligence confidential.
Leon managed one of the three largest sectors in the region, a territory so vast that the others seemed insignificant in comparison.
Over the years, I had become well acquainted with him, appreciating his fairness and ruthless demeanor.
The public saw him as tough and no-nonsense, though he rarely revealed his softer side.
In our world, survival hinged on a strong exterior; showing weakness invited disaster. This unyielding lifestyle required constant vigilance and ongoing efforts to conceal any signs of frailty.
I paused beside Leon Boscos and inclined my head. “Leon, it’s been too long.”
He nodded. “Busy. Business waits for no one. And you?”
I smiled slightly. “I’m in the thick of it, as usual. Let’s catch up after we get through this.”
Next to Leon, Moser Bouras and Franco Dimitri occupied the remaining seats: older godfathers deeply entrenched in this cutthroat game.
“Gentlemen.” I greeted them with a curt nod. Elias and I then took our seats beside Vik, maintaining our calm and deliberate demeanor.
I faced the group, ready to withstand any verbal barrage they might unleash.
They wasted no time diving into their grievances.
Moser spoke, toying with the cigar between his lips.
“Let me get straight to the point.” A towering, podgy man who rarely handled matters himself, Moser always aroused suspicion.
I wouldn’t be surprised if a hidden pistol lay beneath his well-tailored jacket.
“It’s these fucking Vitalis women. The world would have been better off if they’d stayed out of the picture. ”
The audacity of this asshole to speak this way, especially in front of Eli and me, two men now married to the very women he despised, not to mention Vik, their fierce protector. It took some guts to say it so bluntly.
“They’re back,” I stated with a calm as unyielding as ice. “And they're not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“That would be fine,” he retorted, “if they'd mind their own business and stop trying to muscle into our territories!”
“I’m just reminding you, Moser,” Vik interrupted, his speech as steady as stone. “Those territories originally belonged to the Vitalis family.”
“Yeah, well, times change, don’t they?” Moser shot back dismissively.
“Just because they’ve grown up and returned doesn’t mean history can simply be rewritten.
Those women can’t just barge into our territories and claim what isn’t theirs!
They’re power-hungry, and they need to be stopped.
Women have their roles in the syndicates, and it isn’t at this table or running the show. Who are they to take charge?”
His bitter anger was beyond evident in the flickering motion of his cigar as it hovered near his lips.
I fought the urge to stand up, to shake him out of his seat and put an end to this rant, perhaps even to draw my concealed weapon and silence his misogyny once and for all.
If he used the word “women” one more time, I silently promised him retribution.
“Do you believe the Vitalis family holds power, Moser?” Elias retorted, tension radiating from him. “And I mean power in the present, not just before Juno Vitalis was brutally murdered, and his family was forced to flee for their lives?”
If I hadn’t dealt with Moser at first, it would have been only a matter of time before Elias acted alone.
“Stolen power!” Franco finally exploded, his accusation breaking the thick silence.
“Was Avra leveraging her power when she took down those three bastards?” I inquired, my icy composure covering the fierce resolve inside.
“Yes! Exactly what—Wait, no,” Moser stammered, his face flushing deep crimson with anger.
His eyes darted around chaotically as he tried to regain control, the bobbing cigar now a symbol of his unraveling grip.
“Look, these bitches are out of control—that’s all I’m saying! Something must be done about them, and that’s why we’re here. They need to be dealt with, once and for all!”
His undisguised threat had all three of us leaning forward, every muscle tense with anticipation as we focused on him.
“And Juno was voted out! Nobody betrayed him.” Franco faltered as he attempted to weave a narrative of misplaced honor. “His death was tragic, yes, but…” His words trailed off, the lie dissolving into the oppressive atmosphere.
Rage surged through me like wildfire. I took a deep, measured breath, steadying myself.
Pavlos, who had been lingering near the entrance, stepped forward but paused, sensing the slight shift of my hand.
My features were impassive to onlookers—a carefully maintained exterior intended to conceal the storm raging within. My father had taught me the art of hiding a tempest behind a placid facade, keeping adversaries off balance until the moment for action was right.
One misstep, and I’d unleash destruction on that bastard, though he should never suspect a thing until the time was right.
“Franco,” I said, fixing him with an unyielding stare and raising an eyebrow in silent challenge, “stop rewriting history to portray yourself as the hero. Everyone at this table knows exactly what transpired. Juno Vitalis was once a man we all respected—a true leader. He was the godfather of all of you. And you…you killed him! We all share that guilt,” I declared, scanning the table before returning my focus to him. “There’s Vitalis blood on your hands.”
Moser shook his head and let out a mocking laugh, while Franco gazed down at the scarred wood, avoiding eye contact with me.
I felt such hatred for these men, fueled by their actions against Juno, their betrayal of the syndicates, and the suffering they’d caused Cali.
The volcanic ire inside me only grew as I clenched my fists, each memory of their wrongdoings stoking the flames.
If my sister Cora were still alive, they wouldn’t hesitate to use her as a pawn, just as they had with Cali.
“You can’t prove we had anything to do with Juno’s death.” Moser waved his hand as if to brush aside an inconvenient truth.
My mind blazed with a multitude of violent visions of annihilating these despicable people. I was overwhelmed by an unquenchable desire to drag them into the darkest, most hidden parts of my basement, where I could carefully exact my revenge like a hunter skinning his prey.
“The Vitalis sisters have seized what belongs to them, and their campaign is far from over,” Elias declared with unwavering conviction, directing a sharp, appraising gaze in my direction, likely gauging when I might erupt with fury. “You’d all do well to accept that.”
“Or what?” Moser challenged, the corners of his lips curling into a sneer.
“Or face the consequences,” I finished, my tone as cold and unyielding as steel. Moser shook his head in disbelief, his eyes narrowing with disdain as he looked at us.
“The two of you sold out to the pussy, didn’t you?” he spat, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed into slits, glinting with disdain. “You’re like a couple of fucking Vitalis lapdogs now.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at this man's absurdity.
“They’re beautiful women with very comfortable laps,” I replied with a casual shrug, the corners of my mouth curling into a smirk. “The perfect place to watch those who betrayed their father cower in fear as the sisters seek their vengeance.”
Moser’s mouth fell open in shock, his features frozen as the cigar he had clenched between his lips finally slipped and tumbled to the floor.
His face flushed with indignation. He slammed his fist onto the table, the sound echoing like thunder in the tense air.
“How dare you make threats, Nikolas!” he shouted, standing abruptly, his eyes blazing with anger.
All at once, Eli, Vik, and I stood up, ready to confront the escalating tension. When Laya entered the room with authority, her firearm aimed directly at Moser’s hideous, bloated face.
“This isn’t a threat. It’s a promise,” she declared, her gaze sharp and unwavering, as if each syllable could cut through the tension in the room like a bullet.