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Little Martin's murder was still the hottest story in Los Angeles, thanks to Megan Kelly dropping that raw camcorder footage on Fox News.
Both LAPD and the FBI were racing to crack it first, so Assistant Director Courtney showing up to check on the case was completely normal.
"Yeah, I've got Francis Ricci. He was pretty banged up, so I sent him to Mercy Hospital for treatment."
Courtney's face lit up with approval. He clapped Neal on the shoulder.
"Senior Special Agent Neal, excellent work. Close this thing fast — let the Bureau look good on the evening news."
"Yes, sir."
Neal was riding high. He could already taste the promotion, the bigger office, the bigger paycheck.
Courtney gave him one last pat and walked out.
The second he was in the hallway, his smile melted into something cold and ugly. Agents passing by suddenly found urgent reasons to look at their shoes.
Back in his office, Courtney shut the door, pulled out his phone, and dialed.
"Early bird gets the worm."
"Late fish gets the hook."
"Frank, it's confirmed — Francis Ricci is in custody. They just rushed him to Mercy Hospital."
"Wow. That's actually good news. Saves me a lot of trouble."
Killing a guy inside FBI headquarters was a whole different ballgame than doing it in a hospital. Courtney caught the tone immediately.
"Watch yourself, kid. A lot of eyes on Ricci right now. Don't make this messy."
Frank didn't even flinch at being called "kid." Only someone like Courtney could get away with it.
"Relax, Jonathan. You know I'm careful. We've done business plenty of times — you trust me, right?"
"Fuck you! Lately you've been getting reckless. What the hell are you playing at? I'm about to retire. I just want to coast out clean. No surprises."
Courtney was practically shouting. Frank's voice sharpened right back.
"Hey! I'm retiring soon too! You get a fat federal pension, Jonathan. I don't. So maybe I'm trying to stack a little retirement money while I still can."
Courtney's blood pressure spiked.
"You've made more money than ninety-nine percent of Americans! You're greedy as hell, Frank!"
"Still not as rich as you and Mr. Walsh. Most of what I earn ends up in your pockets anyway. The rest just keeps the Castro crew running. Listen, Jonathan — two years. Just two more years and I'm gone. Southeast Asia, beach, no extradition. Do me this solid. It's good for both of us."
The threat was quiet, but it was there.
Courtney went quiet. Frank was barefoot. He was wearing shoes. Different rules.
"Fine. Until I retire, I'll keep the lanes open. But don't push it."
"Heh. You know me, Jonathan. I'm always careful."
Frank repeated the same line he'd used earlier, but this time it landed completely different.
Courtney hung up, slumped back in his big leather chair, and rubbed his face hard.
He stared at the ceiling for a long minute before a knock snapped him out of it.
"Come in."
"Deputy Director, Assistant Director Gordon Cole has an emergency meeting in ten minutes. Third conference room."
"Emergency? Where?"
"Third conference room."
"Got it. I'll be there."
The door closed. Courtney waited until the footsteps faded, then picked up the phone again, voice low.
"Mr. Walsh, it's Jonathan."
"Jonathan. What's on your mind?"
"Frank Castro's getting out of hand. Should we—"
"Heh. Frank's been a little… emotional lately. Maybe it's the male menopause. But the situation is still under control. He can't make real trouble. You can relax."
"Alright. Maybe I'm just nervous about retiring."
"Yeah, Jonathan. You're almost out. Why stay so wound up? Enjoy life. The Bureau isn't gonna ride an old man who's already got one foot out the door."
The words sounded almost sad. Not everyone handles getting old gracefully.
Courtney exhaled.
"Understood, Mr. Walsh."
He hung up, stared at nothing for another long moment, then stood and headed for the third conference room.
---
Back at the Bonanno estate, LAPD had hauled away the Castro crew and the bodies. The place still looked like a war zone.
Blood on the floors was one thing. Bullet holes in the walls were going to need serious renovation.
Servants were already cleaning what they could. The holes would have to wait.
Sofia sat in the living room, heart still racing, worrying about Lawson.
Eva, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered. She was happily working her way through a plate of the cook's best pastries.
Sofia couldn't take it.
"Eva, aren't you worried about Lawson?"
Eva looked up, genuinely confused.
"Why would I be? He's not my man. Besides, he told you not to speak up for him. Clearly he's got something lined up. What's there to worry about?"
Sofia was just worried sick. Eva's blunt logic finally calmed her down a little.
Then the fear hit her from a different angle.
"Those people stormed the estate in the middle of the night. That's insane."
Eva gave her a flat look.
"Underworld wars are a lot uglier than normal business. What happened this morning was actually the nice version. At least you had time to react. Assassination is the real nightmare — sniper, poison, car bomb, staged accident. Way harder to defend against."
Sofia went pale.
"So the people behind this… they might try that on me?"
"Probably not. This level of mob beef usually doesn't call in real professionals."
Eva was the exception — she'd only come because of Svafa's favor.
Sofia finally started to relax… until a servant hurried in.
"Ma'am, Luca Pastore is here."
"Mr. Pastore's back?"
Sofia was stunned.
Luca had only been gone a few weeks, but so much had happened it felt like years.
"Where is he?"
"He's at the door. He brought a girl with him."
"A girl? Send them in."
Sofia was confused but waved the servant on.
Luca had already seen the bullet holes and blood in the courtyard, so the moment he walked in he went straight to business.
"Ma'am, the estate was attacked?"
Sofia nodded.
"Around four this morning. A crew hit us hard — killed six guards. Luckily they were all taken down."
"That bad? Any idea who sent them?"
"Not yet. LAPD took the survivors. Investigation's ongoing."
While she answered, Sofia couldn't stop staring at the young woman standing quietly beside Luca.
She was stunning — old-Hollywood classic beauty, the kind you almost never saw in modern Los Angeles anymore. Elegant, timeless, almost fragile.
Sofia couldn't hide her surprise.
"Mr. Pastore… who is this lady?"
"Audrey Horne. She's Mr. Bonanno's illegitimate daughter. Eighteen years old."
(Audrey Horne, played by Sherilyn Fenn)
The words hit Sofia like a freight train.
She had been Old Martin's sole heir. Audrey's arrival changed everything.
Audrey stepped forward and gave a polite little curtsy.
"Ma'am. Hello."
Sofia was frozen. The silence stretched until Eva finally nudged her.
"Oh! Hello… hello!"
The awkwardness was thick enough to cut with a knife. Even Eva wanted to crawl under the couch.
Luca sensed something was off, but he still didn't know about all the chaos that had happened while he was gone. He'd kept his phone off the entire trip looking for the girl.
He only turned it back on when he landed in LA — missed calls and texts were still stacked up unread.
"Ma'am, I followed Mr. Bonanno's last instructions before he lost consciousness and brought Audrey home. She's yours to look after now. I just got back — still have a lot to handle. I should go."
Sofia nodded numbly.
Luca set Audrey's suitcase down and turned to leave… only to see Antonio and Felice walking in.
"Luca?" both men said at the same time.
Their faces mirrored Sofia's shock. Nobody had expected Luca back so soon.
"What are you two doing here?"
Felice recovered first, sliding into his usual smirk.
"Heard the estate got hit. Came to check on things. No idea why Antonio's here — probably just making sure Ricci's actually dead."
Luca looked lost.
"What happened to Francis?"
Felice realized Luca was completely out of the loop.
So he launched into the whole story — with plenty of his own spicy commentary, especially about Antonio and Francis being thick as thieves.
Pretty much the same speech he'd given at St. Lucy's that night.
But this time Antonio stayed ice-calm. No explosions.
"Felice, none of that matters without proof. You need evidence."
"Hmph. The crew that stormed the estate this morning — that was you trying to silence him, wasn't it?"
"Slander! Pure slander! Luca, look at this guy — he's lost his mind!"
"Enough! Both of you shut up!"
Luca rubbed his temples. His head felt like it was about to split open.
He took a minute to process everything Felice had said, then looked straight at him.
"So Little Martin was killed by Francis?"
Felice nodded.
"We all saw the video at the sit-down. Go check Fox News recordings if you want. It's real."
Luca's face darkened with real fury.
"Fuck… that rotten bastard killed his own brother."
He was genuinely pissed. He'd watched Little Martin grow up. The kid had been like a son to him.
Francis had been Old Martin's godson — basically family. This was a betrayal that cut deep.
"Where is he now?"
Both Felice and Antonio turned to look at Sofia.
Sofia kept her face blank.
"Ricci was taken by the FBI."
Antonio didn't react — like he'd already known.
Felice looked genuinely surprised.
"The FBI? I thought LAPD got here first."
"LAPD arrived first. FBI swooped in and stole him."
Felice shot Antonio a hard look. The man still showed zero emotion.
Normally Antonio should've been rattled that Francis was in federal hands. The fact he was so calm made Felice suspicious as hell.
"You arranged that?"
Antonio glanced at him.
"Felice, you're joking, right? I don't have the pull to order the FBI around. What am I, the mayor?"
Felice pressed his lips together. He knew Antonio didn't have that kind of juice… but the calm was too perfect. It didn't sit right.
"Who knows? Maybe you're an FBI informant."
"Felice, I'm done with you. You're always making up wild accusations!"
Antonio finally snapped.
"Both of you — enough!" Luca roared. "The family is in the middle of a crisis and you two are still bickering like children!"
Unlike Antonio and Felice, who were busy playing their own little games, Luca actually cared about the Bonanno family.
Once they quieted down, Luca asked the million-dollar question.
"Who's running things right now?"
Felice and Antonio exchanged a look… then both turned to Sofia.
Sofia blinked.
"Why the hell are you all staring at me?"
---