Anthony knew the brutal lore of the timeline perfectly. Whether John eventually accepted Santino's Blood Oath and assassinated Gianna, or whether John and Marcus decided to just shoot Santino in the face immediately, the end result would be the exact same: it would attract the absolute, terrifying wrath and endless pursuit of the Italian Camorra mafia.
Even if John managed to successfully persuade Gianna D'Antonio to abdicate peacefully and disappear, the High Table's bureaucratic machinery would still eventually find a legal loophole to take action against him.
Anthony rubbed his temples, a headache forming behind his eyes.
Don't steal his car, and absolutely, under no circumstances, kill his dog. But honestly? The cruelest thing you can possibly do to John Wick is destroy his memories of his wife.
Iosef had been hunted down and slaughtered for killing the dog.
Santino had been hunted down and executed in the Continental for blowing up John's house and destroying his wife's mementos.
If Santino can't physically locate John, he probably won't resort to blowing up his house out of spite! Anthony sighed internally.
Just to be safe, Anthony quickly pulled out his burner phone and sent a highly encrypted text message to Marcus.
"Santino might try to blow up John's house to draw him out. Tell John to pack up all his important photos and his wife's belongings immediately before he skips town."
In the original timeline, Anthony had failed to save John's dog. This time, he was absolutely determined not to let the man's precious memories be erased by a rocket launcher.
Since John was actively leaving the country and going off the grid, there was no need for Anthony to actively pressure him anymore. The Baba Yaga was in the wind.
"Anthony!" Winnie hurried over to the terrace doors, pulling him out of his tactical reverie. She looked incredibly nervous. "My father just arrived. He wants to see you immediately. Please, Anthony, do not act rashly. Speak politely and respectfully."
As soon as she finished speaking, the wealthy crowd in the ballroom parted like the Red Sea.
A tall, highly imposing man in his late fifties walked slowly and deliberately toward them.
Tristan Pritzker. The ruthless President of the Pritzker Group, and Winnie's father.
He was wearing an impeccably tailored, custom-made Armani tuxedo. The graying hair at his temples was meticulously trimmed to project an aura of distinguished, seasoned authority.
Directly behind him, Enrico and Christine followed closely like two gloating, predatory vultures waiting to pick over the scraps.
Tristan's cold gaze fell entirely on Anthony. His scrutiny and absolute contempt were undisguised.
He looked Anthony up and down. "Winnie informed me that you were her high school classmate."
"Mr. Pritzker," Anthony smiled warmly, stepping forward and extending his hand for a firm shake. "It is a profound pleasure to finally meet you."
Tristan did not shake his hand. Instead, the older man slowly reached into his tuxedo breast pocket, withdrew a pristine white linen handkerchief, and deliberately wiped his own fingers, as if Anthony's mere proximity was a contaminant.
"My daughter told me she was dating an 'interesting' person," Tristan said, his voice dropping into a register of sheer, elitist disdain. "But I must admit... I am profoundly disappointed."
Just as Winnie opened her mouth to defend him, Tristan raised a single hand, silencing her with absolute patriarchal authority.
"The Winnie Pritzker Hotel Group personally manages over a hundred five-star luxury properties worldwide, generating over three hundred million dollars in revenue annually," Tristan stated.
His voice wasn't a shout, but the baritone timbre carried perfectly, ensuring the surrounding socialites and corporate rivals could hear every single word of the humiliation.
"My daughter's partner should, at the absolute minimum, possess a background and pedigree worthy of her social standing. He should not be a temporary, hired actor whose tailored suit was quite obviously purchased off the rack an hour ago."
A chorus of soft, suppressed chuckles and polite sneers rippled through the surrounding crowd.
Enrico chimed in at the perfect opportune moment. "Dad, I genuinely heard a rumor that Winnie just grabbed some random guy off the street to fill the void tonight. You know how dangerous these modern dating apps are; they're full of grifters and con artists. I am deeply worried that my naive sister is being scammed out of her fortune."
Christine covered her mouth in a mock display of horror, giggling loudly. "Winnie, please tell me you didn't actually hire an escort for the evening? Oh my god, that is just so incredibly pitiful!"
Enrico pressed his advantage. "And Dad, you should know... this exact guy was just incredibly rude and aggressive toward Mr. D'Antonio by the bar. He possesses absolutely no social grace or manners."
Anthony sighed heavily. He leaned over and whispered loudly into Winnie's ear. "Does your entire bloodline suffer from a terminal disease where if they don't actively mock people, their organs shut down?"
Standing slightly to the side, Mad Dog Leon's shoulders began to tremble violently as he desperately tried to suppress a bark of laughter.
Tristan's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Young man. Do you have absolutely any idea who you are currently speaking to?"
Anthony nodded thoughtfully. "I do. I'm currently speaking to a tired old man who is desperately trying to weaponize his daughter's romantic life to secure a European business merger."
The entire ballroom fell into a state of absolute, suffocating silence. You could hear a pin drop.
Winnie actually gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Oh god, she thought. He's doing it again. He's speaking without a filter.
Tristan's face instantly turned the deep, mottled purple shade of a bruised liver. "You... how absolutely dare you!"
Anthony smiled coldly, the mob-boss persona bleeding back into his eyes. "Where I spent the last few years in Afghanistan, Mr. Pritzker, we don't really have the concept of 'insolence' or 'politeness.' We usually just shut our enemies up with a bullet."
Tristan's brow furrowed in sudden confusion and wariness. "Afghanistan? You are a military man?"
"Force Recon Marine," Anthony shrugged casually. "And quite frankly? I'd vastly prefer having an AK-47 pointed directly at my forehead than have to sit in a boardroom and dictate someone else's livelihood using an Excel spreadsheet on Wall Street."
Leon Wentworth entirely lost his battle for composure. He threw his head back and laughed out loud. "God damn it, I absolutely love this guy!"
"Am I supposed to interpret that as a physical threat?" Tristan sneered, taking a step forward to try and physically intimidate the younger man. "You had better believe that with a single phone call to the NYPD Commissioner, you will be rotting in the back of a police cruiser before midnight."
"Listen to me very carefully, kid. I can tell you with absolute, undeniable certainty that Winnie requires a partner who can significantly expand her global business portfolio. She does not need a penniless mercenary who just talks a big game."
"Dad!" Winnie finally snapped, her voice trembling with genuine anger. "Anthony is my... he is my boyfriend! I demand that you treat him with basic human respect!"
"Respect?" Enrico scoffed loudly, gesturing dismissively at Anthony. "He isn't even worthy of carrying the Pritzker family name! A woman of the Pritzker bloodline should only marry someone of equal or greater social standing. Literally every single bachelor in this room is vastly superior to him!"
"Shut the fuck up, Enrico," Leon interrupted, his voice dropping its playful edge and turning freezing cold. "I genuinely do not care if Anthony has money or not. Even if he's dead broke, I will personally financially back him. Are you truly arrogant enough to think you trust-fund kids are richer than the Wentworth dynasty?"
Leon swept his arrogant, manic gaze across the silent crowd, daring anyone to challenge his family's net worth. No one did.
Christine immediately went on the defensive. "At the very least, we know exactly where our loyalties lie, Winnie! The Pritzker family requires absolute corporate stability right now, not this ridiculous, dramatic solo show you're putting on!"
A highly calculating, predatory glint flashed in Tristan's eyes. He had found his angle.
"Winnie... the family empire desperately needs to unite right now," Tristan said smoothly, playing the concerned patriarch. "Your highly emotional, unstable decisions regarding your personal life are going to make our external investors severely question your professional judgment."
"I believe the board of directors will need to formally discuss at the next quarterly meeting whether you should temporarily step down as CEO of the Hotel Group to... focus on your personal life adjustments."
Anthony turned his head and looked at Leon in genuine bewilderment. "Do all wealthy families resort to such blatantly underhanded, pathetic methods to orchestrate a corporate coup?"
"Don't speak absolute nonsense!" Leon scoffed, looking genuinely offended by the comparison.
"My family is incredibly united! If anyone in my bloodline ever actively tried to usurp my executive power, I would just hire a highly rated hitman off the dark web and have them all brutally murdered in their sleep."
Christine's eyes widened in sheer, sudden horror. She whipped her head around and pointed a trembling finger at Winnie. "Winnie... is that what you did?!"
"Oh my god... Winnie, how could you be so utterly vicious?" Enrico gasped, dramatically pointing a finger directly at his sister's nose. "You had them killed so you could absorb my pharmaceutical company, didn't you?!"
Winnie trembled with absolute, blinding fury at the insane, unfounded accusation.
Anthony stepped close and gently draped his arm around her tense shoulders, pulling her securely against his chest. "The filth hiding behind the walls of wealthy families always smells the most foul."
Anthony shot a questioning look at Leon, silently asking for context regarding the siblings' sudden panic.
Leon immediately provided the exposition. "Enrico runs the family's pharmaceutical division. A guy named Blake, his primary CFO and accounting director, was found shot to death yesterday. That's all."
Anthony turned his cold gaze back to Christine. "If you really want to point fingers, you could easily assume I'm the one who pulled the trigger. Don't blindly throw murder accusations at your sister."
Christine instantly latched onto the bait. "That must be exactly what happened! You were a trained military killer, and Winnie hired you to execute Blake!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, the surrounding onlookers—and even a few of Tristan's loyalists—began to chuckle and shake their heads.
It was a painfully stupid accusation. Just thirty seconds ago, Anthony clearly had absolutely no idea what had happened to Enrico's company and had to ask Leon for the context. It was glaringly obvious to everyone in the room that Anthony couldn't possibly be the hitman.
"God, she really is a profound idiot," Leon scoffed loudly, entirely unimpressed by the Pritzker siblings.
Leon stepped forward, taking command of the room. "To my personal, vetted knowledge... the Hotel Group managed by Winnie has seen a thirty percent net increase in raw profits over the past two fiscal years. Under her leadership, the market share has expanded into the top ten in the entire United States."
"And what about the rest of you?" Leon's manic gaze swept over Tristan, Enrico, and Christine like a judge reading a death sentence.
"Tristan. The disastrous Las Vegas casino project you personally spearheaded last year hemorrhaged two hundred million dollars. Enrico. The pharmaceutical company you supposedly 'manage' has entirely failed to meet its projected targets for three consecutive quarters, and the SEC is already preparing to audit you. As for Christine... my private investigators tell me you can't even file a basic quarterly financial report without your accountants holding your hand."
"The old man's judgment of you all is entirely accurate. The only thing you three are actually good for is fighting like rats over power and profit."
Leon looked around at the crowd, which was gradually quieting down to absorb the brutal financial roast. His voice became even more forceful and authoritative.
"The ultimate success of the Pritzker family was never based solely on the prestige of your surname. It was built on actual, tangible ability. So, if your corrupt board of directors officially decides to question Winnie's professional competence purely because of her personal dating life..."
Leon turned and offered Winnie a brilliant, shark-like smile. "Come work for the Wentworth Group. I'll immediately install you as CEO of our hospitality division, and I'll personally keep an eye on your terrifying boyfriend. Give me two years, and we will violently acquire the Pritzker Group in a hostile takeover and hand it back to you as a wedding gift."
Leon's absolute, undeniable threat caused Tristan's face to turn a sickening shade of gray. "Leon... I will be having a very long discussion with your father regarding this profound disrespect."
"I may be clinically crazy, Tristan, but I'm absolutely not stupid," Leon shrugged, curling his lip in a feral sneer. "If my father even attempts to interfere in my business affairs over this... I will personally ensure that his offshore accounts are frozen, and he'll only be able to find escorts who accept store credit."
Anthony stared at the young billionaire. The guy truly was utterly insane. He was perfectly willing to go to war and argue with absolutely anyone, regardless of their status.
He really is a mad dog that bites anyone in sight, Anthony thought with genuine admiration.
But honestly? He's a really great guy!
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