The Foiled Plan (War of Sins Book 2)

‘The explosion at the factory already has far-reaching effects. Customer trust has dropped in the brand, and the company’s stock prices are going down as we speak. We have still had no statement from a spokesperson, but inside reports are saying the executives are scrambling to turn it around.’

He tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes narrowed on the big screen as the news blared in the background.

‘Down 200%,’ one of his employees yelled, followed by a couple others giving him a detailed summary of the market every passing second.

‘Buy,’ he commanded, nodding at them.

The moments trickled by, and he waited anxiously for the verdict.

‘Congratulations! You own fifty-two percent of the company now,’ Andreas slapped him on the back in a friendly gesture.

He gritted his teeth at the physical contact, but he allowed it for now. After all, this was a huge success, and he owed Andreas a lot of it for turning his vision into reality.

While Michele was the mastermind behind the plan, Andreas was in charge of the organization. Even he had to grimly agree that without his help he would have never made it this far.

‘What about the other two?’

‘Slowly getting there. They are still trying to salvage their reputations, and some are not willing to sell yet.’

Michele grunted. It was to be expected.

‘Good. We’ll have something to present at the summit then,’ he nodded, going to the table by the window to pour himself a drink.

‘They won’t know what’s coming for them,’ Andreas chuckled.

Michele nodded, but his mind was already far away. Images of success were swarming him, and he was getting increasingly jittery.

Soon.

Soon, he would be able to prove to everyone that he was capable, and that his leadership of the family would only usher it towards a new era—a brand new, gilded era.

His mouth curled up in a twisted smile as he could practically feel the breeze of the wind as it brushed against his skin from the top of the world.

It had been his dream since the moment he’d decided he was never going to be weak again. And how to ensure you were the strongest if not by having control over everything?

He had to give it to his father, though. The only good thing he’d ever done had been to force him to study economics and statistics in an attempt to steer him away from his artistic dreams. In the beginning, he’d acquiesced to his wishes, taking up numbers and leaving his pencils and colors behind. Soon, though, he’d realized he had a knack for them, and he’d used that to his advantage in laying the foundation for his takeover of the family.

At the end of the day, no one would have allowed him to get to where he was if they didn’t see the potential in his leadership—the economic potential. And he’d rewarded everyone who supported him in kind, making them richer than they’d ever dreamed.

One of his favorite past times was manipulating the stock market through small, yet well-coordinated attacks that left the entire structure of a company reeling. He’d started out small, only going for specific companies that were sure to give him a good turn around.

But lately he’d gotten bolder.

He wasn’t targeting specific corporate entities anymore. No, now his plans had extended to carefully planned terror-like attacks that left the entire world reeling—enough so he could make a fortune on their backs.

But this was neither here nor there, and his current target had nothing to do with getting rich. He already had enough money as it was, stashed all over the world.

No, his latest plan had to do with a few well-known construction companies from the D.C. area, all of which would be involved in the development bid of a new military center. And by Michele’s calculations, if he got his hands on that, then his world would suddenly open up to new opportunities. Certainly, it would allow him to infiltrate the Washington elite and put his subsequent plan in motion.

‘The boy is here,’ one of his men signaled him.

‘Show him to my study,’ Michele said, taking the entire bottle with him as he walked across the hallway to his office.

Plopping himself in his chair, he lit a cigarette, the mix of nicotine and alcohol hitting him twice as hard and improving his mood.

Not a moment later, a lanky boy entered the room. He had a backpack clutched to his chest, trembling as he looked around the area.

His eyes stopped on Michele, and he swallowed hard.

‘Here,’ he said, almost stuttering as he placed a key on the table.

‘Good,’ he took a drag of his cigarette and released a cloud of smoke. Looking down, he merely gave a nod of approval before he turned his piercing stare towards the boy.

‘You’ll give me the pills?’ He tried very hard to put on a strong front, but Michele knew he was one second away from wetting himself.

A bored expression on his face, he simply opened his drawer, taking out a small container and throwing it to the boy.

‘This should keep her alive a while longer.’

‘B—but you said…’

‘I said I would give it to you when I don’t need you anymore,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Which is not now. I still require your services, so take that before I forget my magnanimity and give you something to make her sicker,’ a lopsided smile appeared on his face, and he enjoyed taunting the boy.

‘I-I…’ he stammered, wildly looking around as if anyone would dare help him.

‘You’re not very bright, are you, Pancho?’ Michele leaned forward, his eyes flashing at him. ‘You wanted to save your beloved, and I offered you the chance. If this is not a fair exchange then I don’t know what is,’ he shrugged, barely stifling his amused smile at seeing the boy flounder.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he whispered, his arms tightening over his blue backpack.

‘And what is that?’ Michele merely raised a brow, waiting for the boy to go on his self-righteous tirade.

‘I can’t spy on my friends for you anymore,’ he gave a muffled cry, taking a step back as he saw the sudden change in Michele’s eyes.

‘Is that so?’ Michele asked in a suave tone, getting up from his seat and coming towards Pancho. He was a head taller than the boy, and as he leaned down, he set his unyielding gaze on him. He didn’t move. He merely stared at him as one would an intriguing object. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he took a big drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke in Pancho’s face and waiting for him to devolve into a crying mess—they all usually did.

‘Might I remind you what happens if you don’t meet your side of your bargain?’

Pancho gave a small shake of his head, his features terrified as he glanced into Michele’s unfeeling eyes.

‘Anita dies. One,’ his lips pulled up a little. ‘Two,’ he continued, amused at the look of pure terror that was descending on Pancho’s face. ‘Dead,’ he whispered, making a poof sound as he leaned back, bursting into laughter.

‘I’m…sorry,’ he eventually apologized, his eyes on the ground.

‘Good,’ Michele chuckled. ‘We still have the showdown, don’t we? Now move along, will you? That dose will keep her alive exactly until next week. You do your thing, and I’ll give you the rest. You don’t… Well, you don’t want to find out.’

Pancho swallowed uncomfortably, but eventually nodded.

‘You’ll find that I’m not a man to cross, Pancho. I’m not my brother. I’m not…good,’ he smiled. ‘I’m the absence of good.’

Pancho blinked, his entire body shaking.

Michele held his gaze for the longest time, instilling in the boy exactly what would happen if he dared betray him.

‘Move along,’ he waved at him.

The door closed with a click, and Michele rolled his eyes at the short interaction. He would have cut his losses sooner, but Pancho had proved to be extremely useful to his plan.

Since Ortega’s numerous attempts had all ended in failure, he’d realized he should have never tasked that idiot with something he should have done himself.

But at the time his mind had been on other things, and no matter how much he would have liked to see the downfall of his brother, he had more important issues to solve first.

Nonetheless, seeing the mess Ortega had made of his plans had been the last drop for him to finally get his head in the game and deal with this little pest problem himself.

There was only one issue—murder wasn’t exactly Michele’s style.

No, he lived for incendiary displays. He could never just commit murder—anonymous, inconsequential murder. No, no, no. That was for cowards and the weak. People had to know it was him, and him alone, who was behind everything.

And so he’d started scheming.

How could he end his brother, but also put on a show?

He’d managed to find cracks within Fenix, and with Pancho’s—unwilling—help, he’d kept close tabs on his brother, feeding him misinformation and laughing at his poor attempts at tracking him.

The highlight had been when he’d ruined the DeVille gala and officially named both Cisco and Rafaelo as his enemies. Ah, but it had been so sweet to watch the recordings of the night and see how both men had reacted to his message.

His plan had worked wonderfully—more so, even.

Cisco had seen the danger that the secret identity of his wife being known in the wild posed, and he’d quickly acted, leaving Rafaelo alone and without any backing.

Ripe for the plucking.

And now the second part of his plan was in motion.

He smiled to himself. He was nothing if not patient. Because he had to be in order to ensure that all the pieces would fit perfectly.

And that was his biggest advantage.

They didn’t know who they were dealing with. They had no clue who Michele actually was and how his mind worked.

And they would be in for a surprise.

Scanning through a few more reports and assigning duties to his men, he watched the clock on the wall impatiently, waiting for it to strike midnight.

When it did, he pulled out his phone, finally making the call.

‘Yes?’ Her voice sent a shiver down his body, his eyes automatically closing as he barely stifled a groan.

For someone who’d identified on the ace spectrum his entire adult life, it was utterly disconcerting to realize that his dick, did, in fact, work.

Just for one person.

She was the only one who’d ever made him experience sexual attraction.

For the longest time, he’d thought he was broken. And if there was one thing Michele hated, more than his brother, it was failure—especially his own failure.

Though he’d initially gotten close to her because she fit his plans, he found himself increasingly more reluctant to part ways with her.

She made him normal.

Or as normal as someone with his past could be.

‘How did the talk go with your family, pet?’ He asked in that charming tone of his.

‘Good,’ she answered. ‘They called the number you gave me and the teacher assured them it would be safe for me to go,’ she said with a breathless sigh. She was, no doubt, anticipating it as much as he was.

Knowing how strict her family was and that they were monitoring her moves closely, he’d hired someone to pretend to be her teacher to convince them it was a legitimate school trip. He’d gone one step further as he’d organized one such trip at the train station, where her family would drop her off.

‘Marvelous. I’ll catch you at the train station in the morning, pet,’ he told her affectionately.

‘Oh, I can’t wait,’ she gushed.

He listened to her prattle about her day, asking a question here and there and giving her the security that he was interested in what she had to say. After all, that was how he’d roped her in. He’d given her the attention she craved when no one else had.

‘You’re such a good girl, pet,’ he praised when she told him about her latest achievement at school. She wasn’t the smartest tool in the box, and her inane subjects would have long tired him if not for her exclusive brand of hero worship.

So abandoned by the world she’d been, that she’d found in Michele her very own idol, and he felt that worship to his soul—it fed his soul.

‘Good night,’ he told her before he hung up, already envisioning the ways in which he’d take her over the weekend.

Two full days in which he’d have uninterrupted access to her body. If that wasn’t heaven, he didn’t know what was.

But sweet as that was, he also had another purpose for which he’d insisted on taking her with him.

After he’d struck up a friendship with the local elites of D.C. he’d noticed that more than one of his associates’ daughters had started paying him too much attention.

He didn’t like that one bit. In fact, he abhorred any type of sexual interest from anyone.

He’d already had a hard time fending off their advances the last time he’d been there. One in particular, Eloise, had gotten too handsy with him, and he’d barely been able to hide his disgust when she’d brushed her hand on top of his.

All in favor of keeping appearances, he’d kept a poker face while planning her death in minute detail in his mind.

The only downside of that was that he still needed his associates’ influence, and as such, he couldn’t go through with it—yet.