New Jersey's suburbs are sprawling—wide lawns, long driveways, houses built to make statements. New York drug kingpin Frank Lucas bought a manor here as well. Compared to the restrained, old-world taste Dominic preferred, Frank's estate was unapologetically extravagant—less "classic elegance," more "I own the palace."
After returning from the funeral of his deceased friend, Frank, weighed down by his thoughts, waved off his supermodel wife's company and went upstairs alone. He needed to think.
With his biggest ally gone, the pressure from every direction suddenly felt heavier.
Dominic had been his shield—keeping rival dealers at bay, smoothing things over with the Mafia, and allowing Frank's product to move nationwide: Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Chicago, Miami, Detroit. Coast to coast.
Now Dominic was dead. His direct line to the families was severed. He had no idea how those major organizations would treat him next. Problems that used to disappear with a single phone call might now come roaring back.
Frank's thoughts spiraled.
I feel like I've turned into a fattened lamb, and everybody's lining up for a bite.
And the narcotics cops—those bloodhounds.
"I'm going to have to give up more benefits in exchange for peace of mind," Frank muttered.
Spread the money around. Harlem voters. Nationally celebrated Black athletes. Greedy bureaucrats. Ruthless families.
Give too much, and they won't need you.
Give too little, and they'll resent you.
Give just enough so they depend on you—but don't hate you.
The key: business cannot stop.
If the business collapses, I become useless. Finished. And every old sin will be dug back up.
For the first time, Frank realized how few real friends he had. Beyond his wife and family—who entered his life only after he became successful—there was almost no one.
Maybe only my mother truly loves me.
He stepped out to find her. It was the weekend, and their church prayer had been delayed because of the funeral. He decided to accompany her.
"Frank, I need to tell you something," his elderly mother said gently on the drive. Her hair was completely white, her voice steady but firm. "If you're a preacher, your brothers will be preachers. If you're a soldier, they'll be soldiers. They came because of you. You called them."
You're their role model. They admire you.
Frank nodded grimly. "Mom, I know what to do."
"I never asked how that grand estate came to be," she continued, "because I didn't want to hear you lie to me. You know what you're doing. Our family—your brothers, your wife—we're all tied to you. Frank, don't make a mistake you can't undo. Don't lose your family."
The church bells rang in the distance, each toll striking straight into Frank's chest.
He wondered whether God truly heard him.
---
New Jersey Anti-Drug Unit.
Richie and his team wore headphones, focused on the intercepted chatter from Black Jimmy's side—the location and time of the plane transfer.
Frank had already arranged delivery. A military aircraft bound for New York was about to land.
"Newark! Temporary Parking Lot 3. License plate KA760."
Richie frowned.
"KA760 isn't a license plate. It's a plane."
With prior intel in hand, Richie cracked the code quickly and mobilized his team.
Time to end this.
---
The next day.
Police officers arrived at the airport with a federal search warrant to inspect the plane.
At the same time, Frank's luxurious manor received two uninvited guests.
— Luca and Jimmy.
"Dove of Peace, what are we doing here?" Jimmy asked.
"Picking up money. And helping our allies while we're at it."
"???"
"Let's not let the corrupt cops get here first."
Luca, sitting in the passenger seat, tilted his chin toward the line of patrol cars already outside the estate. Opportunists. With Richie making this kind of noise, everyone knew Frank was in trouble—including the dirty cops.
Luca was mildly disappointed.
He had assumed that after taking care of Trupo, no corrupt officers would dare move on Frank. He was wrong. The NYPD had no shortage of crooked narcotics cops eager to carve off a piece.
In the original timeline, Trupo raided Frank's house while Frank was away. Now it was just a different pack of wolves.
But did they know the cash was hidden in the doghouse?
"Let's go, Jimmy."
They stepped out.
"What are we supposed to do about the police?"
"Don't forget," Luca replied evenly, "Frank was Dominic's ally."
He recalled Frank's grief-stricken face at the funeral and smiled faintly.
"Now that our ally is in trouble, of course we help him defend peace."
Jimmy blinked.
You've met the guy, what—three times?
They were late. The corrupt officers had already stormed through the manor, armed with a warrant and zero restraint, ripping through rooms in search of valuables.
Confiscated drug money?
That's "evidence."
And once it's "evidence," it's practically yours.
Nobody was going to follow Richie's example and hand it over clean.
In one corner of the wrecked hall, Frank's mother and his wife Eva clung to each other, trembling.
Eva covered her face. Red, distinct finger marks were visible between her fingers.
"Your husband's glorious empire is about to collapse," one officer sneered, standing on a wool rug and surveying the damage. "The feds will be here soon. They'll take everything."
As the wife of a mob-connected man, Eva snapped back coldly, "If you leave now, maybe Frank won't kill you."
"He's finished."
The officer's face darkened. He raised his hand to strike her again.
"Boss! Dove of Peace is here!"
"???"
The officer turned in shock. Luca walked through the cluster of policemen as if he owned the place, stopping a few feet away.
"Dominic often told us Frank was the best friend he ever had," Luca said calmly, glancing at the wreckage. "He's only been dead a few days, and you've already trashed his best friend's home. If Dominic's spirit is watching, how does he rest in peace?"
Mentioning Dominic made several officers visibly tense.
So what if he's dead? His people aren't.
"Dove," the officer said stiffly, "we have a federal warrant. We're legally authorized to search."
Luca didn't even look at him. Instead, he turned gently toward Eva.
"Madam, are you alright? If you've been mistreated, tell me. I'll seek justice for you."
Eva rushed to him, shaking.
"These bastards—"
"Madam, I'm sorry!" the officer interrupted quickly.
"Sorry?!" Eva exploded. "Your man shoved a gun barrel into my mouth! Called me a slut and told me to suck it!"
She pulled her hand away from her cheek.
"Look at my face! Those are his fingers!"
The officer felt his stomach drop. When he met Luca's cold, unreadable gaze, a wave of unease washed over him.
"A search warrant?" Luca asked lightly. "Does it say you can stick a gun in someone's mouth?"
He extended his hand.
"Let me see where that clause is."
The officer swallowed.
"We made a mistake. I failed to discipline my subordinate."
"You should apologize to the lady."
"…Madam. I'm sorry."
Smack.
"Get out! All of you!" Eva shouted. "Get out of my house!"
The officer pressed a hand to his burning cheek and left without another word. The other officers followed. One of them silently uprighted a fallen cabinet on the way out.
Silence fell.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Ding! You stopped the police from conducting an illegal search and using violence, thus protecting your family's peace]
[Gain Skill Points +5]
[Gain Skill Fragment +2]
[Remaining Skill Fragments: 10]
__________________________________________________________________________
Eva crouched among the debris, sobbing.
Frank's mother gently comforted her, then looked at Luca with worried eyes.
"Thank you, sir. Are you Frank's friend? What did he do that the police would destroy our home like this?"
She was the only one in the family who didn't know about the drugs. Perhaps she suspected her son was "doing something big," but she never asked.
Luca guided her carefully to the sofa.
"Frank will be alright. We must believe in him. He can clear up this misunderstanding."
Confess everything. Dismantle the NYPD's narcotics division. Send three-quarters of the officers that corrupt to prison legally.
That was the ideal outcome.
After comforting her, Luca gave Jimmy a look. Jimmy leaned in.
After receiving instructions, Jimmy raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, and one more thing," Luca added casually. "Don't kill the dog. Be gentle. I hate people who kill dogs."
Jimmy sighed. "Let's just pray it doesn't bite me."
A while later—
"Dove of Peace, it's over three million dollars! You really came here to pick up money."
"You know the rules."
"When I moved the doghouse, that German Shepherd tried to take my hand off. I swear I almost killed it."
"Jimmy," Luca said flatly, "remember what I said. Don't kill dogs. Especially other people's dogs."
"Yeah, yeah. Got it."
The black Cadillac rolled away, leaving the massive white estate behind.
Empty. Silent.
Like a marble tomb.
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Ehem, As you may know, this 5 chapters is last chapters of the week, tomorrow is my day off. So, yeah.
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