Chapter 4 - The False Funeral
The time for waiting was over.
On Thursday evening, I collapsed clutching my chest in the middle of the main hallway.
My personal physician, Dr. Aris, who was entirely loyal to me, rushed to the scene.
He loudly declared that I was in cardiac arrest and ordered my immediate transport to the private clinic.
Victor played the role of the devoted, panic-stricken lieutenant perfectly.
He rode in the ambulance, shouting at the driver to go faster.
But I was already safely hidden in a secure safehouse miles away.
The body on the stretcher was a medical dummy, covered in a thermal blanket.
Dr. Aris pronounced Alessandro Moretti dead at exactly nine-fourteen that night.
The news ripped through the criminal underworld like a violent shockwave.
From the safehouse monitors, I watched my own empire react to my sudden death.
Victor wasted absolutely no time.
Within two hours, he had summoned the four highest-ranking capos to my estate.
He stood at the head of my magnificent dining table, claiming temporary control of the family.
"Alessandro is gone," Victor announced, projecting a fake aura of solemn grief.
"But the business must continue, and I will lead us through this dark time."
Three of the capos nodded in agreement, clearly having been bought off in advance.
But the fourth capo, a loyalist named Marcus, slammed his fist on the table.
"I don't take orders from you, Victor," Marcus snarled.
May you like
Victor smiled, pulled a suppressed pistol from his jacket, and shot Marcus perfectly between the eyes.
The hostile takeover was now officially complete.
