He grabs the printout of the investment contract that he and my father signed with Camorra and starts reading, his face turning redder by the second.
“I wonder, what would the Family say if they saw that.” I reach into my purse again, taking out the next set of papers. “Or perhaps they’d be more interested in the shell company that you set up, that also—so conveniently—was hired to complete all of the renovations in our casinos. And charged triple the rates for the actual, finished job. Stealing from the Family, Batista?”
Leone rips the investigator’s report that exposes him as the owner of said company out of my hands, and the color on his face fades rapidly.
“And how about this?” I pull out a stack of photos. One has him kissing a woman half his age. Another is black and white and som
