Princeton, on the outskirts of Trenton.
The night air was clean and cold. Mansions stretched like silent fortresses, each surrounded by perfect gardens and warm lights glowing through their windows. Million-dollar homes. A world of order and power.
From the shadows—where even the streetlights couldn't reach—I watched.
—Well… now this is living, I whispered, a slow smile forming.
My target was there.
Ricardo.
I let out a soft whistle, almost playful.
—Alright, my Italian friend… let's wait a little longer.
---
Inside the mansion, the dining room smelled of roasted meat, red wine, and freshly baked bread.
Soft yellow lights bathed the table. Silverware clinked gently. Quiet laughter filled the air.
His two grown sons and his young wife shared dinner with him.
—Dad, how was New York? the older one asked.
—Good… very good, Ricardo replied, leaning back with a satisfied smile. Your uncle sends his regards.
The boy smiled.
Ricardo looked at his family and, for a moment, let out a deep breath.
—This… this is the best thing I have.
At that moment, a maid approached, her steps slightly nervous.
—Sir… there's a call for you.
Ricardo frowned faintly but stood up without hurry. He walked into his private study and picked up the phone.
—Hello?
Silence.
Then, a cheerful, distorted voice filled the receiver—as if it were right behind him.
—Hello… my friend Ricardo.
The voice felt too close.
—How is the organization's favorite Italian doing?
Ricardo tightened his grip on the phone.
—Who the hell is this?
A soft, elegant laugh. Almost affectionate.
—Come on… don't be like that. I only had to ask… nicely… to get this number.
A chill ran down Ricardo's spine.
—What do you want?
—We're reaching the climax of this story, my dear friend, the voice said, now lower… colder. And in this act… you're going to die.
The air in the study grew heavy.
—Don't worry, the clown continued, almost kindly. I won't hurt your family… as long as they don't reject one of my invitations.
A pause, loaded with meaning.
—By the way… you're quite the charmer. Such a young wife… you haven't gotten her pregnant yet, have you?
Ricardo felt anger rise through his chest.
—Don't cross the line, you damn clown, he growled, his voice trembling with restrained fury.
The laughter returned—slow and refined.
—You're amusing when you're angry.
His tone dropped to a near whisper:
—Tell your children to never reject anything… that comes from a clown.
Silence.
—Oh, and one more thing… you should send them away from you tonight.
—Because I've decided to eliminate you.
His voice turned almost sweet:
—Say goodbye properly.
Click.
The line went dead in Ricardo's hand.
He didn't move.
His breathing was heavy. The warmth of dinner had turned into a cold that crept up his spine.
The maid who had called him earlier appeared at the doorway.
—Sir… is everything alright?
Ricardo slowly turned his head.
His gaze was dark. Empty. Dangerous.
The maid took a step back, trembling.
The phone rang again.
Ricardo answered without speaking.
—Hello again… it's me, the voice said cheerfully. I forgot something important.
—Do it quickly.
—Say goodbye to your family tonight.
—Because I… am already ready.
Click.
Ricardo stood frozen, the phone still pressed to his ear.
In the dining room, his family continued eating, unaware.
But he already knew.
The show… had begun.
---
Minutes later, the calm of the house had shattered.
—Dad… what's going on? Why do we have to go to New York?
—Just do as I say, Ricardo replied, his voice tense. Your cousins will be there.
His sons exchanged confused looks.
—Honey… is everything okay? his wife asked, worried.
—Yes… he lied.
But his voice no longer sounded convincing.
The family prepared in silence. The bodyguards waited outside.
When they opened the front door, several black cars were already there. Two in front, two behind. Ricardo and his family in the center.
—Let's go, Ricardo ordered, forcing a smile.
The vehicles drove toward the private airport.
Ricardo stared out the window, his heart pounding.
He felt like something was watching him.
From afar, among the trees, I smiled.
—I told you to send them away…
—But you didn't listen.
My body faded into the air.
---
Private airport.
Cold wind carried the smell of fuel and metal. The helicopter waited, its blades slowly spinning.
The bodyguards stepped out first, checking the perimeter.
Then Ricardo and his family followed.
Everything seemed under control.
Everything seemed safe.
But then—
A chill ran down Ricardo's spine.
Stronger than before.
He stopped.
—What's wrong? his wife asked.
—Nothing… he lied again.
He took another step.
The chill turned into ice.
His sons collapsed first.
A dull thud against the pavement.
His wife followed.
They coughed.
Bright red blood spilled from their mouths.
Their faces turned pale in seconds.
—…
Ricardo tried to move.
He couldn't.
His legs wouldn't respond.
The guards dropped one by one, like puppets with their strings cut. Pools of blood spread beneath the streetlights.
Slow, elegant applause echoed in the air.
—Hahaha…
The voice came from behind him.
—What's wrong, my friend…?
—Can't move?
Snap.
Ricardo's body responded instantly.
He turned.
And there he was.
The clown.
Impeccable suit.
White mask with an exaggerated red smile.
Standing still.
Watching him.
—I remember telling you something… my voice was soft, almost kind. To send them away from you.
I took a slow step toward him.
—But you didn't listen.
I tilted my head.
—So this… is a lesson.
Ricardo trembled with rage and terror.
—They won't die, I said, glancing at his family lying on the ground. Relax.
—I just punished them a little.
So you understand…
—this is not a game.
The mask shifted slightly.
The smile widened.
And in the eyes…
a dim yellow glow… but alive.
—Now, Ricardo…
I extended my hand.
—It's time to come with me.
The helicopter kept spinning uselessly behind us.
The night had gone completely silent.
Only the sound of blood dripping onto the concrete remained.
And my low, elegant laughter.
—Welcome… to your final act.