Chapter 3 - The Cancelled Vows
When Vincent’s armored SUV pulled back into the gates of the Castellano estate forty minutes later, the entire property was bustling with wedding planners, caterers, and high-ranking syndicate members preparing for the final rehearsal.
Vincent carried Penny through the grand front entrance himself, ignoring the stunned, wide-eyed stares of his guards and capos. He walked straight past the massive crystal chandelier in the foyer and carried her upstairs into his personal master suite—a restricted zone where no domestic staff had ever been allowed to step.
He laid her down gently on his king-sized leather sofa, immediately calling for his personal family physician to come tend to her broken ankle.
"Leo!" Vincent roared toward the open hallway.
Leo rushed into the room seconds later, his jaw dropping when he saw the heavy-set maid lying comfortably on the boss's personal sofa. "Boss? You found her? Is she the rat?"
"Penelope is the only person in this house who isn't a rat," Vincent declared, his eyes flashing with lethal intent. "Cancel the wedding rehearsal."
Leo blinked in total confusion. "What? Boss, the Kensington family is already arriving at the estate. Victoria is in the bridal suite right now—"
"I said, cancel the wedding," Vincent commanded coldly. He pulled the military USB drive from his pocket and tossed it at Leo's chest. "Take this to our tech team. Review the audio files. Then assemble every capo loyal to my father's bloodline in the main boardroom in fifteen minutes. We are executing Protocol Omega."
Leo's face turned completely white. Protocol Omega was the absolute purge order—a declaration of total war against an internal traitor. He grabbed the drive, bowed his head, and sprinted out of the room.
For the next forty-five minutes, Vincent's phone rang continuously.
Victoria's name flashed across the screen over twenty times. When he ignored her calls, her father, Richard Kensington, began calling, demanding to know why the estate guards were locking down the perimeter gates and turning away the rehearsal guests.
Vincent ignored every single call. He stood by the window of his suite, watching his personal physician wrap Penny's ankle in a tight fiberglass cast and administer heavy pain medication.
"She needs complete bed rest for at least three weeks, Mr. Castellano," the doctor informed him professionally before leaving the room.
Once they were alone, Vincent walked over to the sofa and sat on the edge near her feet. The cold, ruthless Don looked entirely different now—his dark eyes were focused solely on the woman sitting before him.
"Victoria is panicking," Vincent said softly. "She knows something went wrong. Her father is currently demanding an audience in my boardroom."
Penny looked at him nervously, her fingers clutching the soft velvet of his sofa cushions. "What are you going to do?"
"I am going to end this," Vincent replied smoothly. He reached out, taking her soft, hand in his large, calloused palm. His touch sent a warm shockwave straight through her veins. "And I want you there to watch it."
Ten minutes later, inside the grand, mahogany-paneled boardroom of the estate, thirty heavily armed Castellano capos stood lined up along the walls.
At the head of the long conference table sat Richard Kensington and his daughter, Victoria. Victoria was wearing an exquisite white designer dress, her face red with furious indignation as she slammed her manicured hands onto the table.
"This is an absolute outrage, Vincent!" Victoria shrieked as the double doors clicked open. "Your guards blocked my bridal party at the gates! You canceled our rehearsal! Do you have any idea how much this embarrasses my family—"
Her voice cut off instantly as Vincent walked into the room.
He wasn't alone.
Vincent was pushing a plush leather wheelchair. Sitting comfortably in the chair was Penny, wearing a soft, expensive cashmere sweater Vincent had given her, her casted leg elevated, her hair down in soft dark waves framing her face.
Victoria gasped, her eyes widening in pure disgust and confusion. "What is she doing here? Why are you pushing that fat maid around like royalty?"
Vincent didn't answer right away. He smoothly wheeled Penny directly to the head of the table, placing her right beside his executive chair. He then sat down, resting his broad hands on the mahogany surface.
"The wedding is canceled, Victoria," Vincent announced, his tone flat, emotionless, and absolute.
Richard Kensington slammed his heavy fist onto the table, standing up. "Are you out of your mind, Castellano? You can't cancel a merger twenty-four hours before the ceremony! Our contract is signed!"
"Our contract was built on treason," Vincent stated calmly.
He pressed a button on the conference room console.
The massive drop-down screen behind him flickered to life. Victoria's recorded phone conversation with the Russian boss, Nikolai Volkov, began playing through the high-definition ceiling speakers, filling the room with her own voice plotting Vincent's murder at the altar.
As her recorded words echoed off the walls, Victoria's face turned from red to a terrifying, ghostly white. She staggered backward, collapsing into her chair, her body trembling violently.
"That's... that's a fake!" Victoria screamed frantically, looking around at the silent, stone-faced capos lining the room. "It's an AI voice generation! Someone generated that to ruin us!"
"It was extracted directly from your personal burner phone, Victoria," Penny spoke up, her voice clear, confident, and ringing with absolute authority. "Cross-referenced with thirty-seven offshore wire transfers moving from your family's accounts to the Bratva."
Richard Kensington drew his concealed weapon in a desperate panic—
RAT-TAT-TAT!
Before he could clear his holster, Leo fired three precise shots from the shadows. Richard collapsed onto the marble floor, dead before he hit the ground.
Victoria shrieked in absolute terror, dropping to her knees, sobbing violently as Castellano guards swarmed forward and pinned her arms behind her back.
Vincent stood up slowly, looking down at the weeping heiress with cold, unadulterated contempt.
"Take her to the cellar," Vincent ordered his men flatly. "She will answer every question our interrogators have regarding the Russian positions. Then deliver her to the docks."
As the guards dragged the screaming, hysterical woman out of the boardroom, the capos in the room turned to face Vincent, bowing their heads in unified respect. But Vincent wasn't looking at them.
May you like
He turned toward Penny, reaching down to gently take her hand, pulling her wheelchair closer to his side.
"From this moment forward," Vincent announced to his entire syndicate, his voice booming with undeniable authority, "Penelope Abbott is under my personal protection. Anyone who disrespects her, anyone who looks down on her, answers directly to me."
