Chapter 4

Roseboro Community Health Fair! Sponsored by Goldstone Health. With special thanks to Thomas Goldstone!

I turn away, growling at my driver. “Get us out of here.”

He responds immediately, no questions, no hesitation as he accelerates, turning right at the next intersection to remove that hated name from my sight.

A year ago, I had the world in the palm of my hand. Well, maybe not the world, but at least the city of Roseboro, and with it, the linchpin of the entire Pacific Northwest. If you wanted to make an impact anywhere between San Francisco and Vancouver, you came to me.

While I never greeted anyone with buona sera, and nobody called me it, I was the Godfather.

Until he came along. Thomas Goldstone . . . the usurper, the upstart . . . the Golden Boy.

At first, I was content to let him build. I found his forays into business amusing as he made choices I would never consider, stepping left when I would recommend right. He’d been like an experiment playing out before my very eyes.

As out of sorts as I found his style to be, he was successful, shockingly so, and at first, I’d been delighted, like he was my own personal dog and pony show. But he wasn’t supposed to be this good, this fast.

I’d assumed he’d be the one to take over the mantle of Roseboro after I’m gone, not that that’s on the horizon anytime soon.

But I thought I’d pass along my empire to capable hands, ones that would laud my brilliance and impact on Roseboro and beyond. He was supposed to be just a caretaker, maybe add a little few pebbles to the mountain that I’d built... and now he’s eclipsing me.

I can’t have that. I won’t have that. My legacy will live on.

One weakness Thomas Goldstone has is that while he’s smart, and he’s nearly as ruthless as me, he won’t go as afoul of the law as I will. I can’t believe he’s totally innocent. No man with as much money and power as he has is totally clean, but he’s never cultivated the connections I have.

So I started hamstringing him. At first, it was subtle, using my backdoor connections to take profits away from him, hobbling him through several projects he’d planned.

Yet still, he rose.

I stomped his dreams into the dirt. I destroyed his attempts at expansion.

Yet still, like a phoenix from the ashes on a mighty wind, he rose.

Finally, I had to take direct action, and through a bitter, angry employee, I conspired to break him, to destroy not just his business, but his mind, his very soul.

I had him. I was so close . . .

And yet he rose.

Now, he’s more successful than ever.

He’s gone from one of the most well-known men in this part of the country to the darling of the entire nation. There are already whispers that when the next election rolls around, Thomas Goldstone would be a shoo-in if he chose to throw his name in the ring. Senator? Representative? Governor?

There’ve been whispers that the governor’s mansion wouldn’t be his last stop, either.

He’s untouchable. I’ve spent millions trying to find more skeletons in his closet. Yet my best attempt, the most direct intervention I could try... and now he’s actually gained power from it.

I could cry over the failure, beseech the gods to grant me this demand, or I can change direction and try again. I already know my course of action.

I’m going to teach Thomas Goldstone about the nature of power. Power isn’t just money or fame. It’s fear. It’s pain. It’s about being willing to go all-in and do the ugly deeds truly required to intimidate and inspire those around you.

And I’m going to give Thomas Goldstone a very educational lesson.

Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pull out my phone and dial. It’s my normal phone—no reason I should be the one buying ‘burner’ phones.

“Hello?”

“You’re taking too much time.”

On the other end, the man hums. “You knew when you hired me that I do things at my own pace. I don’t rush.”

“There is such a thing as taking your time, and then there is wasting my time,” I remind him. “Do not cross the line between the two. I want to see results. Soon.”

“As in?”

“You have seven days. Or else... I will be upset.”

The line goes dead, but I don’t mind. My message was received.

Up ahead, a flash of white and silver catches my eye, and I wince as I see the building we’re approaching. The Gravy Train Diner.

Where she works. Isabella Turner.

The woman who took my carefully-laid plan using Goldstone’s employee, a man I’d manipulated for months, and demolished it in a single conversation.

She thought she’d been doing her friend a favor, but favors have consequences, and I have seen to that personally.

Within a week, she’ll get her comeuppance. I have hired the best of the best to see to her punishment. And the happy byproduct is that it will devastate Goldstone and his woman, crumbling their very foundations and insuring that they understand just how vulnerable they truly are.

Though the thoughts race through my mind, I whisper them to the window, giving them power by declaring them aloud. “Soon, very soon, my little waitress, you will be doing me a favor of sorts.”

My limo slides past The Gravy Train and we start to approach my building, my tower... my home. “You’ll help me send The Golden Boy a very important message—don’t interfere in my business. This is still my town, and your death will prove it.”

It almost makes me smile.