Chapter 4: The Sharks in the Water

Enzo Cavallo's pov

The air in the grand study was thick with the scent of old leather, expensive tobacco, and the unspoken threat of a coup. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the sunrise bleed across the Chicago skyline in shades of bruised purple and gold.

My reflection in the glass looked like a stranger—sharper, colder. The weight of the Cavallo ring on my finger felt like a lead weight.

"They’re here, Enzo," Dante said, his voice cutting through the silence. My older brother leaned against the doorframe, his tailored suit rumpled, his eyes bloodshot. He hadn’t slept. None of us had. "The Commission. They didn’t even wait for the scheduled time. They’re in the dining hall, drinking your vintage espresso and acting like they already own the place."

I didn’t turn around. "Let them drink. It might be the last thing they taste for free."

"This isn't a joke," Dante hissed, stepping into the room. He slammed a folder onto my desk. "The spreadsheets don't lie. The 'Ghost' didn't just move the money; she flagged the accounts. The Swiss banks have frozen the secondary 'wash' nodes. We are liquidated, Enzo. If we can't show the Commission that the funds are secure by noon, they’ll vote for a transition of power. And you know what 'transition' means in this family."

It meant a bullet in the back of the head in a basement in Cicero. It meant the end of the Cavallo name.

"I have the girl," I said, my voice dangerously calm.

"The girl?" Dante laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "You have a twenty-four-year-old hacker in a hoodie. The Commission wants a head on a spike, not a guest in the North Suite. Why is she still alive, Enzo? Give them the girl, tell them she was a lone wolf, and let them watch her bleed. It buys us time."

I finally turned, my eyes locking onto my brother's. Dante flinched. He had always been the emotional one—the one who felt the heat of the flame while I simply calculated the burn rate.

"She isn't just a hacker, Dante. She’s the only one who knows the architecture of the encryption she used. If I kill her, that money stays in the ether forever. And the Commission doesn't want blood more than they want billions."

I walked past him, my coat snapping at my heels. "Stay here. Keep the guards on high alert. If anyone tries to leave or enter the North Suite without my thumbprint, kill them."

The walk to the dining hall felt like a march to a scaffold. My estate, usually a sanctuary, felt like a cage of my own making. Every shadow seemed to hold a pair of eyes, every footstep echoed with the weight of my father’s legacy. He had built this empire with iron and lead; I was trying to save it with silicon and glass.

I pushed open the double doors to the dining hall.

The three heads of the Commission—Don Moretti, Don Valenti, and the ancient, withered Don Lucchese—sat around my table. They looked like vultures in silk ties. Moretti, the youngest and most ambitious, was already sitting in my chair at the head of the table.

"Enzo," Moretti said, flashing a smile that didn't reach his shark-like eyes. "We were just discussing the weather. It’s a bit cold for a Cavallo spring, isn't it?"

"The weather is fine, Moretti. Get out of my chair," I said.

The room went ice-cold. Valenti shifted uncomfortably, but Moretti didn't move. He leaned back, tapping his manicured fingers on the mahogany. "We heard a rumor, Enzo. A very expensive rumor. They say the Cavallo accounts have been... emptied. By a ghost."

"A ghost I have captured," I replied, walking to the sideboard and pouring myself a coffee I didn't want. "The funds are being recovered as we speak. It was a security breach, nothing more. A minor setback in a multi-billion dollar expansion."

"A minor setback?" Lucchese’s voice was like dry parchment rubbing together. "Four million moved in one night. Six months of systematic bleeding. That is not a setback, boy. That is a failure of leadership."

"I am the Don," I reminded him, my voice dropping to a low, lethal vibration. I stepped toward the table, the sheer force of my presence making Valenti pull his chair back. "And as Don, I have secured the threat. The 'Ghost' is upstairs. She is working for me now. By the end of the week, the Cavallo interests will be doubled, and the people who helped her will be identified and erased."

Moretti stood up slowly, finally vacating my chair. He walked toward me, stopping just outside my reach. "We’ll give you forty-eight hours, Enzo. Not because we believe you, but because we want to see if you can actually tame a ghost. But if that money isn't back in the primary nodes by Friday..."

He leaned in, his breath smelling of expensive peppermint and rot. "...we won't just take the chair. We’ll take the house. And everything inside it."

They left without another word, their footsteps echoing through the marble foyer. I stood in the empty hall, my heart thundering against my ribs. Forty-eight hours.

I turned and headed straight for the grand staircase. I didn't call Marco. I didn't check the cameras. I went up the stairs two at a time, my blood boiling with a mix of fury and a strange, desperate need to see her.

I reached the North Suite and signaled the guards to step aside. I didn't knock. I slammed my thumb against the biometric scanner and threw the door open.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon. Jade was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the guts of a dismantled thermostat. Wires were stripped, copper glinting in the dark. She looked up at me, her face pale, her eyes wide with the shock of my entrance.

She didn't look like a prisoner. She looked like an engineer mid-operation.

"What are you doing?" I roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings.

Jade didn't flinch this time. She stood up slowly, the small metal nail file still clutched in her hand like a dagger. "I’m doing your job for you, Enzo. I’m finding a way into your server since you’re too afraid to give me a keyboard."

I crossed the room in three strides, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her up until her toes barely touched the rug. I pinned her against the wall, the heat of my body colliding with her cold, trembling frame.

"Listen to me, you little thief," I hissed, my face inches from hers. "The men downstairs just gave me forty-eight hours to live. Forty-eight hours to find my money. If you don't start talking, if you don't start fixing what you broke, I will let them have you. And believe me, they won't give you a silk bed and a thermostat to play with."

Jade’s breath hit my neck, hot and shallow. She looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time, I saw the shift. She saw the desperation behind my rage. She saw the cracks in the Don’s armor.

She reached out, her fingers brushing the lapel of my coat, and for a second, I thought she was going to push me away. Instead, she leaned in, her lips almost brushing my ear.

"Forty-eight hours?" she whispered, a ghost of her apartment-smirk returning. "Then I suggest you get me a laptop, Enzo. Because I can't save your life with a nail file."

I let her go, my hands shaking with an urge to touch her that had nothing to do with violence. She was a virus. She was a glitch. And she was the only thing standing between me and the end of the world.

"Marco!" I screamed toward the door. "Bring the terminal. Now."

I looked at Jade. She was leaning against the wall, watching me with a quiet, terrifying intelligence. I had brought her here to rule her. But as the sun finally rose, hitting her amber eyes, I realized the power behind the throne wasn't mine anymore.

It was hers.