At this point, swearing was useless.
Falcone had to find a way to plug the leak at City Hall, and as for Martin Jessie and the other officials...
A cold light flashed in Falcone's eyes.
It would be best if they just kept silent. But if they truly dared to testify in court and become state's witnesses, Falcone wouldn't hesitate to let his associates take some action. In this day and age, anything linked to his men could easily be written off as a terrorist attack.
"Master! We have a problem."
The butler rushed in, clearly stressed. "The heads of all the major newspapers called. They all say they have other business and can't make it."
"Not a single one is coming?"
A hoarse voice echoed in the room, like a saw grinding wood. The butler dared not speak, quickly lowering his head.
"Good. Very good!"
Falcone let out a chilling laugh. "The rats hiding in the shadows have finally shown their heads."
"Go fetch Vitti."
The butler nodded slightly, turned, and left.
A moment later, Johnny Vitti walked in, followed by a tall, brown-haired woman in a professional suit. The woman was Sofia Falcone, Falcone's daughter and assistant. She primarily managed the illegal currency exchange operations and was known in the Falcone family as the Black Spider.
Seeing his daughter brought Falcone no joy; instead, his brow furrowed, and a shadow crossed his eyes. He didn't ask why she was there, only looking at his nephew, Johnny Vitti.
"The family's honor must be defended with blood. Vitti, find the heads of all those newspaper companies. Ask them for me what kind of courage allows them to refuse an invitation from Falcone."
Johnny Vitti grinned, a bloodthirsty look, like a striking viper.
"They will regret it."
Before he finished speaking, he was gone. Loud commotion and wild cackling laughter could be heard outside the door, confirming that Johnny was already organizing his men for destructive action.
Sofia subtly curled her lip, a hint of scorn in her eyes.
After his nephew left, a measure of softness returned to Falcone's hardened face.
"Sofia, what did you come for?"
"We have a problem with our accounts... €800 million is missing!"
Hiss!!
Falcone's pupils constricted. He felt a heavy blow to his chest, and his cheeks flushed an unnatural red. It took a moment for him to steady himself.
"Who did it?"
"Dominic Sidney."
"How do you know it was him?"
Sofia stated flatly, "Only two people in the entire Falcone family have the capacity to do this: myself and Sidney. Since it wasn't me, it has to be him."
The atmosphere suddenly dropped into a profound silence.
Falcone stared intently at his daughter, his sharp gaze seeming to pierce through her.
Sofia stood motionless. Although the hands clasped behind her back were shaking, her eyes showed no retreat.
After dozens of seconds, Falcone looked away, a hint of exhaustion on his face.
"Leave Gotham. Do not return for two years."
Sofia glanced at her father and then left without another word.
Luke Shaw's Choice
Meanwhile, in the underground warehouse in the West End of Metropolis.
The richly rewarded Luke Shaw reclined on the sofa, a glass of red wine in his left hand and a cigar in his right. The smile on his face was impossible to hide.
Eight hundred million Euros, roughly $900 million USD!
It was his, just like that.
The world was too beautiful.
I wonder what Emily is doing? No, the silly girl has an operation tonight; it's not a good time.
Maybe Ivan Donald?
Thinking of those substantial "assets," Luke's mind started to wander.
"Mr. Shaw," Sidney gasped, pleading, "You promised me..."
"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten my promise to you."
Luke opened his laptop, entered the account number and the amount. As he hit the Enter key, a faint smile finally appeared on Sidney's pale face.
"Twenty million dollars has been transferred to your son's account. It's enough for them to live in Norway for the rest of their lives."
"Mr. Sidney, you should thank me. If it had been anyone else, your whole family would be dead."
Sidney was silent. Though he didn't want to admit it, it was true.
This young man was ruthless and deeply cunning, a true scoundrel, yet his integrity was surprisingly admirable.
Luke took a sip of wine and continued,
"With the €800 million secured, our collaboration is perfectly complete. In light of your full cooperation, I'll give you a final choice."
With that, he took a pill from his pocket.
"This pill is an enhanced version of euthanasia. It allows a person to pass away quietly in a state of extreme pleasure, feeling no pain, with a smile on their face even after death."
"It's an excellent option for you right now."
"Of course, there is another option."
Luke raised his right hand, and a faint eerie green flame erupted in his palm. The flame burned silently, without heat, only a coldness that penetrated the soul.
"A meta... metahuman?"
Sidney's eyes widened, filled with intense terror.
Luke smiled and whispered,
"Do you feel it? The uncontrollable fear, your soul trembling, as if the grim reaper is right beside you."
"Don't worry, it won't take your life. It will only destroy your soul, wiping away your memories, leaving you to live like an imbecile. I'll put five hundred dollars on you and drop you off somewhere strange. What happens next depends on God's mood."
"If you're lucky, you might run into former friends, eventually reunite with your family, and enjoy a somewhat peaceful old age. You know better than I do how low the chances of that are."
"The greater possibility is that you'll fall into the hands of the police, the FBI, or a gang. They will use every method to make you talk, since you stole all the money from Falcone's accounts."
Luke spread his hands, holding out the flame and the pill.
"Two choices: a happy death, or a painful survival."
Sidney trembled, his throat bobbing, his eyes full of utter despair.
"Can't... can't there be a third option?"
Luke sighed. "It's almost nine o'clock. I have work to do. I don't have time to waste on you. If you don't choose, I'll have to choose for you. Trust me, the answer I give you won't be the one you want."
Sidney closed his eyes in agony. His mind was a jumbled mess; he was on the verge of collapse. He didn't want either choice. He wanted to live—with money, wine, and women—not turn into a beggar!
Why is God doing this to me?
Lost in thought, a sudden flash of clarity hit him. He abruptly looked up and shouted,
"That's not right!"
"You don't want me to die! You want me to live! This is all your conspiracy!"
Luke paused, looking strangely.
"What are you saying? Of course, I'd prefer you to be dead."
"You demon! You liar! You've been deceiving me from the start!"
Sidney stared intently at Luke.
"Only if I'm alive will they avoid pointing the finger at the real mastermind. My family and I will be your shield, taking all the trouble for you! And that twenty million dollars—you never even transferred it to my son's account, did you?"
Luke shook his head, looking resigned and finished with the conversation. He grabbed Sidney's neck, gently tugged, and pulled out a wisp of his incorporeal soul. The green flame incinerated the soul until only a fragmented residue remained, which was then sent back into his body.
"Mr. Sidney, may God forgive you."
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