Chapter 3 - Stalker

˜”*°• Vincenzo •°*”˜

I was seated in the corner of the dimly lit Italian restaurant, the soft glow of candles casting elongated shadows across the room. The distant murmur of hushed conversations and the clinking of cutlery filled the air, but I was here for one reason and one reason alone – to meet Don Carlo on my father's orders. He wanted me to get into the business with this man. A man whose word is as good as nothing.

The rim of the crystal tumbler felt cool beneath my fingertips as I watched, my patience waning. The Capone family had been patient enough, and it was time to show these fuckers that soon enough Vincenzo Capone will dominate in this city.

In the last few months, the Outfit has had problems not only with the Cosa Nostra but also with Don Carlos who was trying to get into our gambling business. Peace with Cosa Nostra could be more beneficial for us but my father was a stubborn man, holding onto the grudges of his father.

The ornate entrance swung open, and Don Carlo strolled in, flanked by his men. His mere presence commanded respect, but respect was something I had no intention of showing. We exchanged nods, and he took his seat before me.

Don Carlo made himself comfortable, the scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air. The men poured him a glass of aged bourbon, and he shot me a grin.

"Vincenzo Capone," Carlo drawled, "you finally accepted my dinner invitation. I was beginning to think you were too afraid to meet."

I squared my shoulders, matching his icy stare, "I'm not afraid of anything, Carlo. I hear your family's been expanding its interests."

Carlo's smile widened, a calculated glint in his eyes. "Indeed, we've been exploring new avenues. But it's a big city, plenty of room for everyone, wouldn't you agree?"

I remained composed but couldn't mask my skepticism, "Room for everyone until someone's ambitions exceed their boundaries."

Carlo's tone turned appeasing, "Vincenzo, let's not be adversaries. Imagine the power and wealth we could amass if we joined forces. Your father wants the same thing, together we could have more men than Costello. We'd have power, wealth, and numbers."

A flicker of annoyance crossed my face, "Power, wealth, and what else? The satisfaction of seeing my family's hard-earned turf taken over by yours?"

He leaned in, his tone softer but laced with menace, "You're a pragmatist, boy. Surely you see the wisdom in cooperation."

"I won't stand for your invasions into my territory."

Carlo chuckled darkly, swirling his drink, "Ah, territory. The cause of so much bloodshed and conflict. You see, I believe in expansion. Progress."

My voice grew sharper, "Progress at my family's expense? You've taken over our speakeasies, extorted our businesses—"

He interrupted with a mocking laugh, "Business is business, Vincenzo. We are not friends yet, but if we join hands tonight tomorrow will be a different story. And about your speakeasies? Survival of the fittest."

My temper flared, and I leaned in, fists clenched. "Survival? This isn't the jungle, Carlo. It's the city, my city, and I won't let you destroy everything I've built."

Carlo's smile faded into a sneer, he slammed his fist onto the table, "Built? Or inherited, like the spoiled brat you are?"

"It's not mere inheritance when I've rightfully earned it, Carlo. When I've toiled for it."

He chuckled, swirling the glass of aged bourbon in his hand. "Let's not pretend, Vincenzo. We're both businessmen in our own way. Why not put our heads together and expand our operations?"

My fingers twitched slightly, my temper barely contained beneath the surface of my composed demeanor, "I've heard this song before. Your family's greed knows no bounds."

His smug grin persisted as he countered, "Greed, or ambition? You can't deny the charm of greater wealth, my friend."

A surge of irritation coursed through me, but I maintained my composure. "This city isn't big enough for both our ambitions. And your recent actions suggest you've forgotten who holds the real power here."

A few days ago, they had tried to target my brother Adriano Capone and before that, they tried to kidnap Aunt Alessia but failed miserably both times.

Carlo leaned forward, placing his glass on the table, "This alliance can be more potent than brute force. Imagine the riches we could amass together."

My voice remained unwavering, "My father had rebuilt this empire on strength and loyalty to his family and his men. I won't let your family's greed jeopardize that. I have no intention of joining hands with a scum."

A sly smile played on Carlo's lips as he raised his glass as if toasting to our standoff, "Be careful not to bite off more than you can chew."

I couldn't help but smirk at Carlo's audacity, "More than I can chew? Trust me, there's a whole lot I can chew, and it's far beyond your fucking imagination. Because in the end, it's the men on the streets that matter."

His fingers tightened around the bourbon glass, betraying his frustration, "You underestimate my family. We've weathered storms that would sink lesser men."

I leaned closer, my voice low and dangerously calm. "You know what your problem is, Carlo? You've always thought too small. You see this city as your playground, but I see it as my kingdom. And kings don't share their kingdoms."

Carlo's eyes blazed with anger. "You think you're untouchable, don't you? The mighty Vincenzo Capone, who can do no wrong."

I chuckled softly, "I've never claimed to be a saint. But I do have principles. Loyalty, honor, and a sense of respect for the way things work in this world."

He leaned in too, his voice dripping with disdain, "Your principles will be your downfall, Capone. You're too rigid, too unwilling to adapt."

I straightened up, my gaze unwavering. "Adaptation without principles is just chaos. I'll take my chances with principles."

Carlo's face reddened with anger, and he slammed his glass on the table, "You're a fool, Capone. A stubborn, arrogant fool."

I met his rage with icy calmness, "Better a fool with principles than a snake in the grass."

That was the spark that ignited the powder keg. He slammed his palms on the table, causing the bourbon glass to wobble, before he pushed the glass off the table, "You arrogant bastard! You think you can insult me in my own city?"

"I'll do more than insult you, Carlo. I'll take everything from you," my eyes locked onto him, "Because in this city, there can be only one reigning family. The time for negotiations is over."

My hand slid beneath the table, fingers wrapping around the hidden weapon. My gaze stayed fixed on Don Carlo, and I could see the shock filling his eyes. He knew.

In an instant, the balance of power tilted toward the Capone family. A quiet shot echoed through the room, and Don Carlo's eyes widened in surprise as he fell back in his seat, a red stain spreading on his shirt. Simultaneously, my men sprang into action, neutralizing Carlo's soldiers.

With that singular gunshot, the message resounded throughout the room: the Capone family now reigned supreme over the city.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"What have you done?" my father's thunderous voice followed me as I went home.

"What you should have done long ago, taking out the scum from Chicago, cleaning my territory," I answered as I took my place on the living room couch, crossing one leg over the other.

"I sent you there on my behalf to make peace with Carlo, not kill him, Vincenzo. We're already at war with Cosa Nostra, I can not afford another war!"

"I'd rather make peace with Costello than ever join hands with that scum Carlo and his idiotic sons."

"There will be no peace between the Outfit and the Famiglia not as long as I am alive!" Dad snapped.

Aunt Alessia flinched, she had been awfully quiet since she lost her. It was as if she had forgotten to talk.

Even if it wasn't for her, I still wanted this peace with Cosa Nostra more than ever.

I faced Dad, "Carlo Gotti is dead. I killed him, they will retaliate, they won't settle for peace even if you begged them to. Nikolai Costello, on the other hand, is willing to consider peace right now. You have to act swiftly, Dad, before everything we've built crumbles."

In his frustration, Dad's fist collided with the wall, leaving a bloody mess. He ran his trembling hand through his hair, his eyes filled with rage and desperation, "You planned this, didn't you? You never intended to align with Carlo; your visit was an execution mission."

I just stared at my father having a complete mental breakdown, "You finally caught on? Costello is more powerful, he is true to his word. You need to stop fighting your father's war, stop living in the past, and holding onto your father's grudges. Aunt Alessia has already paid the price, and all she wants now is to see her daughter. You're denying her that happiness."

He raised his voice, refusing to accept the truth, "Don't you fucking dare shift the blame onto me. Nikolai is cut from the same cloth as his father. We'll see when he stabs us in the back."

Straightening my suit, I flicked a speck of lint away, rising from my chair and buttoning my jacket, "It's the only choice you have, Dad, take it or leave it. Either you agree, or we'll face the combined forces of Don Carlo and Nikolai Costello. You can't wage two wars simultaneously."

That night my father called Nikolai and set up a meeting to negotiate the terms of the peace agreement.

While the external war with La Cosa Nostra appeared to have subsided, a secret battle raged within me. It was a conflict tearing me apart from the inside, consuming me like a relentless fire.

Now as I sat alone in my study, I opened my laptop and began my routine surveillance. It was something I had never expected to do – spying on a woman. Yet, somebody had made a careless mistake by not checking the most obvious places.

I, Vincenzo Fucking Capone, was stalking a woman...