Chapter 14 #2
I connected the dots out loud. "Viktor has been using Matteo through his brother-in-law. Threatened his sister, maybe. Or paid him off. Either way, Matteo had access to everything Piero had access to."
"Financial systems, schedules, security protocols," Rocco confirmed, pulling up access logs. "Matteo could have mimicked Piero's digital footprint. Created the fake accounts. Signed documents with forged credentials."
"But why frame Piero specifically?" Paola asked. "Why not just feed information without pointing fingers?"
I realized, "Because Viktor wanted me to turn on my own brother. Wanted to destroy our family from the inside. Divide and conquer."
The strategy was elegant. Vicious. Exactly Viktor's style.
"Wait." Paola looked between us. "These documents about Piero—about Shadowking—where did they come from? Were they in what Bianca brought from my father?"
Rocco checked the file metadata. "Yes. They were mixed in with Giovanni's business records. Looks like... Giovanni's accountant had been corresponding with who he thought was Piero about some joint financial ventures between the Lombardo and Monti families."
Understanding clicked. "Matteo was communicating with Giovanni's people using Piero's identity. Setting up these fake accounts, these transactions. Giovanni's team documented everything, not knowing they were dealing with an imposter."
"So when Bianca grabbed my father's files, she unknowingly included evidence of Viktor's frame job," Paola said.
"Exactly. Viktor probably had no idea these documents existed in Giovanni's files—he was using Matteo to create the Shadowking persona, but Giovanni's meticulous recordkeeping accidentally documented the deception. We interrupted his verification process."
"Which means Viktor handed us proof of his own conspiracy," Rocco said with something like admiration. "He was so focused on the documents that would hurt you, he didn't realize Bianca was also bringing evidence that would expose his plant."
The irony was almost beautiful.
"Wait," I said, pieces clicking together. "We've had these documents for weeks. Since the raid on Viktor's penthouse. Why are we only seeing the Matteo connection now?"
Rocco looked uncomfortable. "Boss, we had hundreds of pages from Giovanni's files.
We prioritized based on threat level—personal blackmail material on you, on Paola, business vulnerabilities.
These financial transaction records were flagged as lower priority.
I only cross-referenced them against Piero's timeline tonight because we were trying to prove his innocence. "
So we'd been sitting on evidence of Matteo's betrayal for weeks, buried in paperwork we hadn't fully analyzed.
"Which means Matteo doesn't know we have this," Paola said. "He thinks he's safe because we haven't moved against him."
"Yet," I corrected.
"We need proof before we move," Paola said. "We can't accuse Matteo without being certain."
She was right. I'd already almost condemned my brother. I wouldn't make that mistake with another of my men.
"Pull his communications," I ordered Rocco. "Everything from the past six months. Cross-reference with the Shadowking timeline."
Rocco's fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Boss... there's a pattern. Every time Shadowking communicated with Viktor, Matteo had logged into our secure servers within the previous hour.
He was pulling Piero's schedule, copying his access codes, gathering information to make the communications authentic. "
The evidence was damning. Conclusive.
"Does he know we're looking at him?" Paola asked.
Rocco went pale. "Boss... I accessed his file records three minutes ago. The system logs everything. If Matteo has alerts set up—"
"He knows." My blood ran cold. "Rocco, where is he right now?"
Rocco pulled up phone GPS tracking. "He's... boss, he's at JFK. Terminal Four. International departures."
He was running. Because we'd just tipped our hand by accessing his files.
"When did he arrive at the airport?"
"GPS shows movement starting twelve minutes ago. Right after I pulled his records."
Fuck. He'd been monitoring for exactly this—waiting to see if we discovered the connection. The moment we accessed his files, he ran.
"Get Giulio's team to the airport. Now. I want Matteo detained before he boards any plane."
Rocco was already on it, making calls, coordinating.
I turned to Paola. "We're going to JFK. I want to look that bastard in the eye when we take him down."
We were back in the car, me driving fast through Manhattan traffic, weaving between lanes with practiced precision.
Giulio's team was already mobilizing—four cars heading to JFK from different locations across the city.
"I'm coming with you," Paola said, anticipating my objection.
"Paola, this could get dangerous—"
"I just survived breaking into Viktor's penthouse five weeks ago. I think I can handle an airport confrontation."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to keep her safe, protected, away from this darkness.
But she was right. We were partners now.
"Fine. But you stay with me. No heroics."
"Agreed."
The drive took thirty-two minutes—record time. I pushed the Aston Martin to its limits, using every shortcut I knew.
Giulio called when we were two minutes out. "Boss. We have eyes on him. Terminal Four, Gate 27. Flight to Prague boarding in fifteen minutes."
Prague. Where Bianca had been hiding. Not a coincidence.
"We're almost there," I said. "Don't let him board that plane."
We abandoned the car in a no-parking zone, ran through the terminal. Security waved us through—I had connections everywhere, people who knew better than to delay a Monti.
We reached Gate 27 just as final boarding was called.
And there: Matteo. Standing in line, carry-on bag clutched tight, looking nervous but determined.
"Matteo!" My voice cut through the terminal noise like a blade.
Matteo froze. Turned. Saw me, Paola, Giulio's team surrounding the gate.
His face went through several expressions in rapid succession: surprise, fear, resignation.
Then he ran.
Giulio's men were faster. They tackled him before he made it ten feet, drove him to the polished floor.
Passengers scattered. Airport security rushed over, hands on weapons.
I flashed credentials. "Family business. We'll handle it."
Security backed off. Nobody wanted to get involved with the Montis.
Giulio hauled Matteo to his feet, zip-tied his hands behind his back. I approached, fury barely contained beneath the surface.
"Matteo. I trusted you. For four years, I trusted you."
Matteo's face was defeated, hollow. "Cesare, I can explain—"
"Explain how you've been feeding my enemy information? Explain how you framed my brother? Explain how you betrayed your family?"
"He has my sister! Viktor has Dmitri's family in Russia. He threatened to kill them if I didn't help."
So it was coercion, not greed. Not that it mattered.
"You could have come to me. I would have helped protect them."
"Would you? Or would you have seen me as a liability?"
The question hung heavy between us. I didn't have a good answer.
Paola stepped forward. "The documents about Piero. You fabricated them?"
Matteo nodded miserably. "Viktor wanted Piero discredited. Wanted Cesare to turn on his own brother."
"What else?" I demanded. "What other damage have you done?"
Matteo's shoulders slumped. "I told Viktor about the switch at the wedding. About Paola being the wrong twin. That's how he knew to challenge you at the anniversary celebration."
Every blow Viktor had landed—Matteo had armed him for it.
"What do we do with him?" Giulio asked quietly.
I looked at Matteo—betrayer, coward, victim of Viktor's manipulation. In the old days, there would be only one answer. Elimination. Quick and permanent.
But Paola's presence changed the equation. She was watching, waiting.
"Take him to a secure location," I said finally. "We'll question him properly. Find out everything he gave Viktor."
"And after?" Giulio asked.
"After, we'll decide."
Giulio's team took Matteo away. The man didn't resist, just walked between his guards with his head down.
I turned to Paola. "We need to tell Piero. He deserves to know he was framed."
She nodded. "And Viktor?"
"Viktor just made his biggest mistake."
"What mistake?"
"He left us alive. And now we know his playbook."
We were walking back to the car when my phone rang.
An unknown number. I answered.
Viktor's voice, amused and smooth. "Congratulations, Cesare. You found your rat. Well done. But did you really think Matteo was my only source? My only plan?"
My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about insurance. Contingencies. While you were chasing Matteo to the airport, I made a move of my own."
"What move?"
"Your brother Piero. He's no longer at his apartment. He's with me now. And if you want him back alive, you'll give me exactly what I asked for: fifty percent of YOUR empire. The Monti empire. Not whatever Giovanni left you.”
My jaw clenched. "You already got what the other Dons got, as well: twenty percent of the New York territory. That was the restitution we agreed on."
"That was restitution for the wedding deception. And you’re forgetting, that twenty percent was divided up between all of us.
This is payment for all the trouble you've caused me since.
Destroying my alliance with Bianca. Raiding my penthouse.
Humiliating me repeatedly." His voice hardened.
"You want your brother back? Fifty percent of the MONTI empire.
Your ports, your shipping routes, your legitimate businesses.
The real power, not Giovanni's declining scraps.
Twenty-four hours, Cesare. Or Piero dies screaming. "
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, the world tilting beneath my feet.
Viktor had Piero. My brother. The person I'd just proved was innocent.
And now I might lose him for real.
Paola's hand found mine. "What did he say?"
I could barely get the words out. "He has Piero."
Her face went pale. "No."
"Twenty-four hours. Fifty percent of everything. Or Piero dies."
We stood in the JFK parking garage, five weeks of peace shattering around us like glass.
The war with Viktor wasn't over.
It was just beginning.