A Midnight Package Delivered To My Desk Contains A Severed Hand And A 60-Minute Timer Pointing To My Son's Family
👉 Previous Decision: You chose to use the forensic evidence to force an emergency confrontation with Clara at the syndicate headquarters.
I bypassed Internal Affairs. There was no time for hearings. I drove straight to the downtown real estate club, the DeLuca syndicate’s de facto headquarters. A guard tried to stop me, but the look in my eyes must have been enough.
I found Clara in her private office, a lavish space overlooking the city. She sat behind a polished mahogany desk, a faint smile playing on her lips, as if she’d been expecting me.
I threw the coroner’s report onto her desk. “Three days, Clara. The hand was cut off three days ago. The timer was a lie. Julian was never kidnapped.”
Clara picked up the report, glanced at it, then placed it back down. Her smile widened.
“Very good, Victor,” she purred. “You always were tenacious. Just like my father.”
My blood ran cold. “Your father?”
“Carmine DeLuca,” she stated, her gaze unwavering. “The mob boss you helped prosecute twenty-five years ago. My father. My family. My legacy.”
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. Clara wasn’t just Julian’s wife. She was Carmine DeLuca’s daughter, meticulously planning her takeover, using me as her unwitting tool to reclaim what she believed was hers.
Choose your next action
Demand she surrender the bank accounts in exchange for keeping her identity secret — Read Chapter 17 to continue
Threaten to turn over all DeLuca ledgers to federal prosecutors immediately — Read Chapter 21 to continue
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