Novel & Cerita Venice Heist

He set a document on the desk in front of me and stepped back without a word. I looked down at it. Fifty million dollars. A wire transfer already processed from a Vitale Group International account. The jewelry Bianca Conti had broken at the gala. Vincenzo had submitted the replacement cost, and the billing had gone through our branch accounts. Fifty million dollars gone because my daughter had smashed a piece of jewelry on a marble floor, and Vincenzo had decided to make us pay for it the same way he did everything else, quietly, efficiently, and without giving us room to object.

A closed building was listed for a lease with a huge placard on the outside, but this rat was nesting and seems like he was rebuilding his mafia. Venice is romantic alright for tourists, due to its stunning scenery and other attributes. No wonder Erin and Micah had been set on visiting this place, right beyond all the amorous atmosphere, there is also a seedy underbelly where various criminal syndicates thrive. That is why Nikolai didn’t let the girls go out alone, and deployed a whole team of security to guard them, yet they were all rendered useless, putting them into this predicament. On the other hand, the fact that they found out sooner that Flavio is still alive is one of the few silve

Vincent watched with a cold, assessing stare, already preparing to tear his words apart. Elena held her breath as Leonardo began. His voice shook at first. Then it steadied. He described the conspiracy he and Vincent had built over five years. He explained how they framed other families, ordered hits, and moved money while consolidating power. He spoke about Antonio Russo discovering the theft operation. He admitted Vincent had ordered Antonio’s murder. His voice broke as he confessed to helping arrange it because he’d been too afraid to say no. The warehouse was silent. Leonardo continued, detailing other crimes. Hits ordered on anyone who questioned Vincent. Money stolen from shared commis

Fortunately, the store only sold one brand, so no one would notice the swap. During a quick trip to the restroom, I hid the special candy somewhere safe, then made my way back to class. However, as soon as I stepped through the door, I froze. Sierra was sitting at my desk, and on top of it sat my empty tin, the one I used to store lozenges. My heart lurched. Hailey spotted me standing by the door and shot Sierra a quick, meaningful glance. Sierra turned slowly, her expression dark and cold. Her eyes locked onto mine. "Vera," she said, her voice like ice, "did you buy these lozenges yourself?"

I ask, getting bored of this conversation. " It's about Vince." I furrow my brows at the mention of Vince. He's been causing trouble for the mob this past months. He's been sabotaging every single shipment to our dealers and clients in Italy. Fucking Italian prick. " What the fuck did he do?" I ask as I blow out the smoke through my nostrils. Asa already tossed his cigarette away on the ashtray. " The last shipment of weapons I supervised few days ago, Vince took them all out. Killed the men at the harbor and sent Edward over as message. The sales in Italy is dropping lately, Nick. Shit's not been good."

"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

“They’re all aboard. Teresa just transferred the final tranche—three hundred million in crypto. Viktor’s accounts are flush. They’re prepping to vanish.” I didn’t answer. My mind was twenty years back: my father, Giovanni Vitale, found dead in his study, heart failure, no autopsy demanded. The family mourned, moved on. Marco stepped up, then cancer took him too. Now the priest’s words twisted like a knife: poison. Not for my brother. For my father. Ordered by family. The chopper banked low. Chen’s voice cut through comms: “We fast-rope in thirty. Two teams—bridge and stern. Secure the vault, neutralize high-value targets. No mercy if they resist.”

He inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of burning tobacco. Money had been pouring in ever since Isabelle’s dating heist. Five hundred billion dollars stolen from the Iranians–a sum so vast it could buy governments, topple empires and bend nations. To any other man it would have been cause for unrestrained celebration. But Vittorio was not any other man. He knew every coin stolen carried a shadow. Already the Iranians were howling, their fury echoing across borders.

Several high-ranking capos waited in dead silence around the long mahogany conference table. The heavy glass doors slid open, and Matteo entered, tossing a fresh intelligence report onto the table. "We lost Vincent Hale." Lorenzo didn't flinch. His expression remained completely static. "Explain." "He vanished into thin air less than twenty minutes after leaving your estate," Matteo explained, his usual humor entirely absent. "Our tactical units tracked his vehicle to an industrial alleyway. It was abandoned. The driver is gone, too." A heavy silence descended upon the room. Lorenzo picked up the anonymous silver threat card, turning it over in his gloved fingers. "Vincent was a distraction.

The only questions now are how and why? “Chet’s still into that stupid modern-day Robin Hood schtick, huh?” Something defensive sparks in my chest. “It’s not stupid,” I retort hotly. “It’s honorable. We only steal from—” “Other criminals,” he finishes for me, waving one hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Who was the target this time?” “Ronaldo Bianchi. He has a stolen Picasso in his private collection back in Paris.” Gabriel whistles, a flicker of recognition behind his dark green eyes. “Bianchi? I didn’t know that the bastard made it out of Sicily after the whole Altegro fiasco…”