𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 53: 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞...

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

It wasn’t until midnight that Antonio steered his Rolls-Royce Phantom onto the Hunt driveway.

Exhaustion pressed heavy on his shoulders, but it was all over now. Cardoza had been taken care of.

Lucas had called him to supervise as the boys loaded the order. Despite the changed route, Cardoza — Cesar Maté consigliere — had tried to hijack the shipment with a few stray pirates.

Antonio let out a hard exhalation. He’d made sure the traitor knew fear before he died.

“I’m all f*cked up,” he yawned, eyelids heavy as he guided the car through the final curve to the gate.

Out of the blue, a small figure appeared in the beam of his headlight.

He barely had strength to stop, but instincts took over— he slammed the brakes, fishtailing to a halt inches from the boy.

“Junior?” he growled, checking his watch. 12:15 a.m.

Unsure if it was a setup, he reached for his gun. But before he could unbuckle the taut seatbelt Junior already ran up to the driver’s side— knocking.

The automation clicked open, and Antonio stepped out. “What are you doing out here this late?"

Junior hugged his leg, sobbing. “Miss Nevena…"

“What about her?” Antonio demanded, picking him up.

“I overheard Mummy talking to someone—the judge is going to deny bestie's future ticket to New Mexico,” the boy explained, his sobs muffling against Antonio's shoulder, hot and wet. “I’m not going to see her ever again"

“How's that possible?” Antonio rasped.

“I lied,” Junior choked. “I thought she would be detained from going back, but otherwise happened —please save my bestie”

“Let me see” Antonio pulled out his phone and dialed Mateo.

“Yes,” Mateo confirmed after hearing the situation. “The boy insisted she lured him, but I still pleaded not guilty.”

“Can something still be done?” Antonio rumbled, his grip on the boy tightening.

“Only if we can get new evidence, or press a charge before the final hearing tomorrow.” Mateo highlighted “That's the only way”

“Then I’ll find it,” Antonio seethed. “Just get ready to spiral it.”

He set Junior in the passenger seat, turned the car, and sped back the way he came — straight to where it all began.

“Maverick Hospital?” Junior read the neon sign as Antonio eased in the parking lot.

“Yeah” Antonio throated, stepping out with him. “What was your ward again?"

“Third floor. Pediatrics”

Inside the lobby, a nurse hurried toward them before they could even reach the counter.

“I'll take him,” she offered, thinking the boy was ill.

“I'm not sick" Junior protested, casting one glance at her open arms, and then on Antonio's face.

“That’s what every kid says,” the nurse chuckled, tugging at his cheek tenderly.

“Unfortunately, He's not” Antonio rattled, and the nurse retreated.

He placed his ID card at the reception’s counter for clearance.

“Antonio Hunt?" The receptionist read, palling in realization.

"Welcome, Sir.” she bowed slightly, a supplication of humility.

“I need to see the director.” Antonio requested, and the woman immediately clattered on the telephone.

Within minutes, the director appeared and guided them to his office.

“What could possibly bring you here at this hour?” he asked.

“I need your help," Antonio stated.

The director sniggered unbelievably at his request “Almighty Hunt needs my help— at this hour?What could it possibly be?"

Antonio eased Junior to a chair and leaned closer to the table. "I need the CCTV footage from the Pediatrics ward”

“Unit C?” The director asked with almost certainty.

Unsure of the unit Antonio tilted his head at Junior, and he bobbed a nod in response.

“I'm sorry” the director caught the subtle nod, "But police were here days ago — they took it and wiped our backup.”

Antonio lowered his head and released a weary exhalation. Breanna wasn’t prosecuting Nevena — she was persecuting her.

“Is it very important?" The director asked, reading Antonio's gesture.

“Hmm” he hummed in response.

“Okay…Give me a minute” the director muttered, raising his pointer as though he was seeking permission. “There’s nothing much here though—” He turned his laptop, clicking.

After a tense minute, he spun the screen toward Antonio. “I don't know if these fragments would do.”

“They deleted the crucial part.” Antonio cursed, scrolling through the footage. "Did your firm ever file an official complaint about Junior's disappearance?”

“No,” the director admitted. “To the best of my knowledge, we called Mrs. Stewart multiple times, but she kept saying she’d come.”

"Really?" Antonio raises a brow. “How about you compile those call logs — and also give me the footage covering outside.”

"No issues" The man nodded and got to work.

He transferred the footage to a hard copy, and printed the call records that left their terminal to Breanna's.

By 2:23AM, Antonio was driving back home, Junior dozing away on the passenger seat.

Grinch and others watched with awe as Antonio shouldered a kid into the house.

“What the hell happened?” Grinch asked, falling in step with him. “When did you start babysitting?”

Antonio shot him the briefest glare and continued “Found him wandering outside the gate all alone"

Grinch didn’t press further, he just followed as Antonio tucked Junior into his own bed.

“How did the operation go?” he asked when he was done.

Mtcheew! Antonio hissed to the question. “That fucking bastard was running the chain. I already took care of his Consigliere”

“Dumb a*s” the cuss rolled out from Grinch's tongue, laced with a smirk. “Did Victor Loa say anything yet?"

Antonio ignored the question, unbuttoning his suit and tossing it aside, striding straight to his working desk.

“You’ll handle office affairs since you’re back.” he muttered, clearing everything to the floor.

“I just got back," Grinch raised his voice in protest. "I'm still sore”

“Um…” Antonio thought for a while. "How about the boys carry it for you then”

"Cabrón” Grinch throated in defeat, walking up the distance to see what Antonio was doing on the laptop. “Planing a career switch, huh?"

Antonio didn't utter a response—his eyes stayed fixed on the footage.

By the first break of dawn, Grinch came to summon him for a meeting, but the room was empty — only the sleeping boy remained.

He glanced at the laptop still open, curiosity made him cross. The footage was still running.

“Moron" he tittered, gaining full knowledge of the situation.

The bathroom door opened. Antonio stepped out, eyes red-rimmed from stress and sleepless night.

“Busy snooping?” he asked flatly.

Grinch turned to him— arms folded, eyes burning holes through his hard façade.

“What's with the look?" Antonio asked, shutting his laptop.

“You knew the deal—clean hit, not playing some insane lover,” Grinch confronted.

“Plans change.” Antonio sighed, tilting his head.

“You can’t even hide it.”

“What's wrong with it?" Antonio jagged, nestling partly on the desk—a dark smirk forming. “I’m just craving some Bulgarian p*ssy.”

"I smell more than a nightstand” Grinch held his gaze squarely. “Should we place a bet?"

“You’re getting it all wrong." Antonio broke his gaze. I just need to keep her out of jail. After that, the cream pie— clean pounding or maybe hardcore. No loose ends.”

“We’ll see,” Grinch sniggered. “Let’s get her released first.”