Ethan's shadow kingdom had begun to take root in the city. The warehouse on the west side was now his first stronghold; crates filled with weapons, men standing guard, and the cash flow was slipping into Ethan's hands. Elena's plan was spreading like a spider's web; each thread weakening Donati's empire just a little more, while raising Ethan in the shadows. The city, with its neon lights and shadows, was transforming into a battlefield, but this war had not yet been openly declared. Ethan sat at a table in the warehouse, with the plans of a newly acquired casino spread out in front of him. His men, old enemies and mercenaries gathered from the streets, were reporting to him, each saying they had taken control of one of Donati's weaknesses. But there was a restlessness in Ethan's mind; Elena's shadow grew larger with every victory, strengthening him while also chaining him.
Elena stood in a corner of the warehouse, giving orders to her men through a radio. Her voice was as calm as ever, but her eyes often drifted toward Ethan, as if weighing him, controlling him. "The casino on the east side is ours," she said, setting the radio down on the table. "Donati's men didn't even resist; Moretti's death scared them. The next target is a small shipping point at the harbor. If we take that, we'll cripple my father's shipping network." She moved closer to the map, pointing at a location with her finger, then looked at Ethan. "You're doing well, Ethan. Your kingdom is growing."
Ethan nodded, but his lips were pressed into a tight line. "Growing," he said, his voice low but firm. "But it's your kingdom, isn't it? I'm just swimming along, Elena. When do I make a move on my own?" He pulled out his cigarette, fiddling with the lighter but not lighting it. His anger simmered like a volcano inside; he needed Elena, but this dependency was driving him mad.
Elena smiled, that familiar, calculated smile. "Be patient," she said, her voice soft but threatening. "My father is still standing, and if he suspects anything, we're both finished. I'm making you a king, Ethan, but your throne will solidify over time. For now, stay in my shadow." She moved closer, placing her hand on Ethan's shoulder, her fingers pressing against the fabric of his jacket. "Trust me."
Ethan felt Elena's touch, but it wasn't trust—it was a reminder. He turned his eyes to the map, studying the marked points in red. "Fine," he said finally, his voice cold but determined. "The harbor is the next step. But how long is this shadow game going to last, Elena?"
Elena didn't answer, just smiled and returned to the radio.
Meanwhile, in the center of the city, in Donati's skyscraper office, another scene was unfolding. Donati sat in his large leather chair, a whiskey glass in front of him, gazing out at the city lights. He was old, but his eyes were still sharp as a hawk's; the experience brought by years made him weigh every move. On his desk were reports of Carver and Moretti's deaths, the explosion at the harbor, the chaos at the casino, and the silent takeover of the west side warehouse. His brow furrowed as his fingers grazed the rim of his glass. Something was going on, but he couldn't quite figure out what.
The door knocked, and his right-hand man, Luca, entered. He was tall, skinny, with hollow eyes and a face full of worry. "Boss," he said, his voice shaking. "We haven't heard from the warehouse on the west side. The men aren't answering their phones, shipments have stopped. And the casino on the east side… It's silent too. Something's going on, but we can't figure out what."
Donati turned to Luca, his eyes briefly piercing through him. "Something's going on," he said, his voice deep and heavy. "Carver and Moretti's deaths weren't a coincidence. The harbor's a mess, the warehouse is lost, the casino's silent. Someone is hitting us, Luca. But who?"
He slammed the glass down on the table, spilling whiskey across it. "Ethan? Did that stupid kid come back?"
Luca hesitated, rubbing his hands together. "We don't know, boss," he said. "Ethan's body wasn't found at the harbor, but Moretti's men said he was dead. Maybe someone else… The gangs? Or—"
He stopped short, swallowing hard as Donati's gaze silenced him.
Donati stood up and walked to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. The city lights reflected his empire, but now those lights seemed to flicker. "Elena," he muttered, his voice low but thoughtful. "Where is she?"
His daughter had always been in his shadow, but she was also his greatest weapon. Since Carver and Moretti's deaths, she'd been reporting to him, saying everything was under control. But now, the silence, the losses... A doubt began to coil in his mind like a serpent.
Luca answered, his voice trembling even more. "Elena was here last night, boss. She said she was investigating the harbor incident, that it was just a gang conflict. But we didn't see her this morning. She's answering her phone, but… she's cutting it short."
Donati's brows furrowed further, his lips forming a thin line. "Cutting it short," he repeated, his voice like the silence before a storm. He trusted Elena; she was a piece of him, of his soul. But these losses, this silence… Something was wrong.
"Reach her," he said, turning to Luca. "Now. Find out where she is, and report back to me. If she's hiding something…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but the anger in his eyes spoke volumes.
Luca nodded quickly and rushed out of the room. Donati returned to the window, his hands still clasped behind his back. Pieces of the puzzle were trying to fit together in his mind, but the picture was still blurry. Could Ethan still be alive? He'd heard rumors of Moretti shouting at the casino, "You were supposed to be dead!" But if Ethan was a ghost, how had he organized so quickly? And Elena… His daughter had always been ambitious, but was that ambition turning against him? He wasn't sure about betrayal, but the doubt was spreading through his veins like poison.
Meanwhile, in the west side warehouse, Ethan and Elena were planning their next move. Elena sat at a table, giving orders to the new men. "The harbor shipping point is small, but important," she said, her voice calm but authoritative. "If we take it, we'll break Donati's shipping network. Get your men ready, Ethan. We'll strike tonight." She pointed at the map, her eyes shifting to Ethan.
Ethan, sitting at the other end of the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. "The men are ready," he said, his voice cold but firm. "But if we keep moving this fast, Donati will start to suspect. The west side, the casino, now the harbor… He's not stupid."
He finally lit his cigarette, the smoke rising from his mouth like a cloud.
Elena paused for a moment, then approached and sat beside Ethan. "He might suspect," she said, her voice low but confident. "But he won't be sure. My father's paranoid, Ethan, but also arrogant. He'll link the losses to gangs, to accidents. It'll buy us time. By the time he's sure, we'll have already torn his kingdom apart."
She placed her hand on Ethan's arm, her fingers tightening just slightly. "Stay calm. I've got everything under control."
Ethan felt Elena's touch, but this time he pulled away. "It's under your control," he said, his voice trembling with anger. "But how long is this shadow game going to last? If Donati starts to suspect, he'll question you first. What then?"
He exhaled smoke, his eyes locked on Elena.
Elena smiled, but the smile was cold. "Then I'll lie," she said, her voice turning into a whisper. "My father will believe me, Ethan. For now. But you need to stay strong. This kingdom is rising in your hands. Trust me."
She stood up, returned to the radio, but Ethan's eyes were still on her.
As preparations continued in the warehouse, clouds of doubt were gathering in the city. Donati, sipping his whiskey in the skyscraper, was battling a war in his mind. Betrayal was a possibility, but it wasn't clear yet. Elena was his daughter, but also a shadow. Was Ethan hiding in that shadow if he was still alive? Donati said nothing, just stared out at the city. Doubt had been planted, and over time, it would either blossom or wither.