Chapter 7 - The Downfall of a Traitor
The basement of the Costa estate was vast, cold, and constructed of heavy nineteenth-century stone arches. Beneath the grand dining halls and polished marble foyers lay the family’s private wine cellar—a dark, echoing space that had served as a prison for many men over the decades.
Carlo Costa was tied securely to a heavy oak support pillar in the center of the room. His tailored suit was torn, his hair disheveled, and his face red from crying.
Two heavy-set enforcers stood on either side of him, their arms crossed.
The heavy iron door at the top of the stone stairs creaked open.
Enzo descended the steps slowly. In his right hand, he carried the silver tea canister. In his left, he carried the printed chemical test results from Dr. Keller.
Behind Enzo walked Nia.
Enzo had insisted she accompany him. "You found the snake," Enzo had told her flatly upstairs. "You get to watch it get crushed."
Carlo looked up as they approached, his eyes wild with terror.
"Enzo! Enzo, please!" Carlo sobbed, thrashing against his leather bindings. "It’s a frame-up! The maid is lying! She planted that tea! I love Matteo! He’s my blood!"
Enzo stopped three feet away. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't draw a gun. He simply stood there, looking at Carlo with complete, icy detachment.
Enzo unscrewed the lid of the silver tea canister and held it under Carlo’s nose.
"This is raw foxglove, Carlo," Enzo said softly. "Dr. Keller ran the test. Matteo’s blood is filled with eight nanograms of digoxin. You’ve been feeding it to him for three weeks."
Carlo’s frantic excuses died in his throat. His mouth worked silently, his face turning an ash-gray color as he realized there was no escape, no spin, and no lie left to tell.
"Why, Carlo?" Enzo asked gently. "Matteo gave you everything. He gave you the real estate firm. He gave you the clean money. He treated you like a brother."
Carlo stopped crying. The pathetic act evaporated, replaced by a sudden, bitter, envious sneer that twisted his features into something hideous.
"He treated me like a dog!" Carlo spat, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls. "He kept me in the office handling spreadsheets while he played king of the city! I did all the real work! I cleaned his dirty money! And what was I going to get when he died? Nothing! He was going to hand the entire syndicate over to you, Enzo! A street thug with no blood ties!"
Carlo glared at Nia with pure, venomous hatred. "And you... you miserable, worthless little servant. You ruined everything. Three more days! That’s all I needed! Three more days and he would have had a 'heart attack' in his sleep!"
Nia looked at the man tied to the pillar. She felt no fear now. She felt only deep disgust for a coward who had hidden behind tea leaves and sweet smiles.
"He trusted you," Nia said quietly. "He drank that tea because he thought his cousin cared about him."
"Shut your mouth!" Carlo screamed.
Enzo turned to the two guards standing behind Carlo.
"Take his phone, his wallet, and his ring," Enzo commanded flatly. "Transfer every corporate account under his name back to the estate trust. Then call the Federal Prosecutor's office anonymously. Drop off the financial ledgers Carlo kept for the Luces family."
Carlo’s eyes widened in fresh horror. "No... no! Not the Feds! Enzo, please!"
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"You wanted to handle real estate, Carlo," Enzo said, stepping back toward the stairs. "Now you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a federal maximum-security prison for attempted murder, high treason, and tax fraud. Matteo will make sure you never see the sun again."
Enzo turned his back on Carlo’s hysterical screams and led Nia back up the stone stairs into the warm, sunlit main hall of the mansion.
