Chapter 5: We Deserve Justice.

Charles’s POV

I sit at the end of the conference table. Martins, my superior, leans back in his chair. He’s never been one to lose his temper with me, but today he looks like he’s seconds away from erupting.

“We lost the grand jury hearing, Charles,” Martins says flatly. “Do you have any idea how much damage this does to our reputation?”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay composed. “With all due respect, sir, we didn’t lose because of a lack of evidence. We lost because Ricardo Borrelli’s lawyer manipulated the system and bribed—”

“Stop.” Martins raises a hand. “Do not make baseless accusations. We don’t have proof of bribery, and you know it.”

Baseless accusations? I slam my fist on the table before I can stop myself. “We have everything we need, Martins. Surveillance footage linking Borrelli’s vehicles to the safe house. Financial records showing cash drops that don’t match his business earnings. Witness testimony from all 35 girls who pointed to his father-in-law, Inzaghi, as the one running this operation! How much more evidence do we need to prove Ricardo is the mastermind?”

Martins leans forward. “Yet we still lost, didn’t we? Because you didn’t have enough to convince the grand jury. You gambled on this case, Charles, and you dragged us all down with you.”

I stare at him with disbelief. “Sir, we’re not done. Inzaghi is still in play. Those girls identified him. We can keep pushing—”

“No.” Martins cuts me off. “This case is over.”

Over? I blink at him, struggling to process the words. “You can’t be serious. We’re talking about 35 girls who went missing. One of which is the senator’s daughter, for God’s sake. How is this over?”

Martins sighs. “You’ve done enough damage, Charles. We can’t afford to keep chasing shadows when the evidence isn’t sticking. I’ve already informed the DA—we’re dropping the case against Ricardo.”

“And Inzaghi? You’re just going to let him walk, too?”

“We’re not pursuing Inzaghi either. The senator doesn’t want to press charges, so do the victims. So I don’t understand what makes you want to push harder.” Martins says. “We think you need a break, Charles. You’ve been too close to this case for too long.”

“A break?” I push back from the table. “This isn’t about me needing rest. This is about politics, isn’t it? Someone high up is protecting Ricardo, and you’re too afraid to fight it.”

Martins clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t deny it. “Watch your tone, Gregory. You’ve made a name for yourself as the golden cop, but even you can’t win every battle. Take the L and move on.”

“No,” I snap, shaking my head. “This isn’t possible. You’re asking me to stand down while criminals like Borrelli and Inzaghi walk free. Even if the victims don’t wanna press charges—they deserve justice. We deserve justice.”

Martins stands. “I’m not asking, Charles. I’m ordering you to stand down. Drop the case. Leave Ricardo Borrelli alone. This conversation is over.”

“And if I don’t drop it?” I ask quietly.

“Then you’ll find yourself off this case—and every other case—indefinitely. Don’t make me bench you, Charles. Go home. Get some sleep.”

For a moment, I can’t breathe. I stand there, frozen, as Martins gathers his papers and leaves the room. I’m alone now, but even as my career hangs in the balance, one thought alone goes through my mind:

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Ricardo’s POV

I step into my mansion as the doors click shut behind me. My shoulders ache, and all I want is a drink and silence.

Instead, Antonella appears, holding my daughter Isabella in her arms. The baby is sleeping calmly. But my wife’s eyes are anything but calm.

She walks towards me with anger. “You’re going to tell me,” she begins in a hushed tone, “why the fuck my father’s name was mentioned on live TV, tied to those missing girls.”

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Isabella’s asleep in your arms, yet you want to do this now?” I talk back.

She glares at me. “Don’t you dare deflect, Ricardo. My father is pissed—at you and Angelo. He thinks what happened at the jury was a deliberate attempt to soil his name and clear yours.”

I scoff, running a hand through my hair. “How can your father think I’d deliberately drag him down? Doesn’t he know that I know if he goes down, we all fucking go down as well?”

She steps closer, lowering her voice even more. “He doesn’t believe you, Ricardo. He’s convinced this was your doing—yours and Angelo’s. You’re lucky he’s got people. He paid them a huge sum of money to drop the case.”

I chuckled briefly. “See? It’s all settled. Look, Antonella, I had a really long day. I need to rest.”

“He wants a meeting as soon as possible. He wants to know how his name ended up on the lips of 35 girls, including the senator’s daughter.”

I pause. “I’d like to know that as well,” I say with feigned calmness.

I turn and head for the bedroom. But before I can escape, she speaks again.

“If I find out you betrayed my father, Ricardo,” she says, “I’m going to skin you alive.”

I stop mid-step, as my back stiffens. For a moment, I consider turning around, saying something to diffuse her anger. But no word comes.

Instead, I take a deep breath and keep walking. As I push open the door to the bedroom, I barely make it to the edge of the bed when my phone rings in my pocket. I glance at the screen. Luca.

I answer immediately. "Luca," I say. "Tell me you have good news."

“Capo,” Luca begins with excitement in his voice, “you won’t believe it.”

I sigh, I am impatient. “Spill it, Luca. I’m not in the mood for dramatics.”

He clears his throat. “Remember Jessica? The lady who pimped some of those girls to us—including the senator’s daughter?”

“Yeah, I remember her,” I reply, sitting up straighter. “Hope she didn’t get a chance to flee the country with her daughter. Because it’s her fault we got in this mess.”

Luca chuckles. “She says she’s sorry. She had no idea the girl was the senator’s daughter. And no, she didn’t get the chance to flee the country. We’ve got her and her daughter here with us.”

This piqued my interest, but before I can respond, Luca adds, “And guess what?”

I groan. “Luca, how many times do I have to tell you? I hate guessing games, especially when I’m in suspense.”

“Apologies, Capo,” he says quickly. “Jessica’s daughter, Alma, has a little secret. She’s close friends with someone you know very well.”

“Get to the point.”

“She’s friends with Felicity,” he says, pausing for effect.

“Mama Mia….” I say with excitement.

“Yes, Capo,” Luca confirms. “It turns out her real name isn’t Felicity. It’s Lana Denver.”

“Lana Denver,” I repeat, savoring the name. I lean back against the headboard. “She’s going to regret every second of it,” I murmur, more to myself than to Luca. “Find her, bring her to my secret condo. I’m going to make sure that bitch pays for everything she’s done to me.”

“Understood, Capo,” Luca says.

I hang up the phone.