Dominic Russo thought he could humiliate a broke waitress in front of his men, but his smile disappeared the moment she replied in flawless Neapolitan.

Down in the subterranean vault level beneath the headquarters, the atmosphere was entirely different from the sunlit executive suites above. Here, the air was cool, smelling faintly of cold stone, refined oil, and aged paper.

Silas stood beside a reinforced steel desk, his massive frame blocking the harsh glare of an overhead industrial lamp. Spread out before him were encrypted schematic blueprints of the port facilities at Pier 19 and the surrounding railway transit lines.

As Dominic and Maya stepped out of the private elevator, Silas snapped to attention, nodding respectfully to both of them.

“Mr. Moretti. Miss Vance,” Silas greeted, his voice a low gravelly rumble. “The security detail sweep of the northern logistics corridor is complete. All redundant patrol routes have been consolidated, and the new biometric access protocols are live.”

Maya walked over to the desk, her eyes immediately scanning the intricate layout of the port architecture. She pointed a slender finger at a junction near the main cargo container gates.

“You missed a blind spot,” she noted casually.

Silas blinked, frowning slightly as he leaned over the blueprint. “Impossible, Miss Vance. That zone is covered by three independent thermal cameras and a roving canine unit.”

“The cameras cover the perimeter, yes,” Maya explained, tracing a line with her pen from the municipal water drainage pipe straight through to warehouse sector four. “But the municipal drainage line runs directly beneath the perimeter wall right at marker twelve. A standard three-foot conduit with a removable grate. Anyone with a standard wrench and twenty minutes of free time could bypass the entire thermal grid without ever triggering an exterior sensor.”

Silas stared at the map, then looked up at Maya with a mixture of profound shock and reluctant awe. He had overseen security for the Obsidian organization for fifteen years; not a single capo, enforcer, or regional director had ever spotted a structural vulnerability in the port blueprints by simply looking at municipal drainage codes.

He slowly turned his gaze toward Dominic, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

Dominic didn't look surprised at all. Instead, a faint, proud smile touched his lips as he rested his hand gently on Maya’s lower back.

“Fix it, Silas,” Dominic instructed quietly. “And route all future infrastructure expansion plans through Miss Vance’s desk before signing off with the contractors.”

“Understood, boss,” Silas muttered, immediately picking up a red marking pen to circle the drainage junction. He looked back at Maya with a new level of absolute respect. “Consider it sealed by noon.”

As Silas turned back to his terminal, Maya looked up at Dominic, her eyebrows raised. “You’re giving your chief enforcer homework assignments based on my tax and compliance audits?”

“I’m giving my chief enforcer a lesson in operational survival,” Dominic corrected smoothly, pulling her a fraction closer to his side. “An empire isn't built on bullets and blood, Maya. It’s built on infrastructure. And nobody in this city understands the architecture of power quite like an accountant who knows where every single dollar and drainpipe is buried.”