At a warehouse located deep in the forest, far from civilization and urban areas, trucks lined up one after the other.
Several men with weapons hanging over their chests opened the trucks, revealing several crates filled with weapons.
A man stepped forward, his movements careful and precise as he leaned over, checking the weapons.
"Is this the complete order?" he questioned, his voice firm and ice-cold.
"It is, boss," one of the armed men standing to his right replied, also looking over the crates. "This is the complete order for Mr. Salvador, and the goods are ready for shipping."
Domenico hummed, his bushy green eyes scanning the weapons one more time. He pulled out an index finger, lightly touching the weapons. They felt new and look perfect to him, a faint grin stretching on his face.
"That's good." He took two steps back. "Mr. Salvador is already waiting for his order. Make sure to get it delivered as soon as possible."
"I don't think that will be possible, Dom."
He suddenly heard a familiar voice.
All the hairs on his back stood on end, while the tips of his fingers itched to pull out the pistol resting on his waist.
Calmly, he turned to face Carlo.
"Those weapons have already been paid off by another buyer, you see," Carlo said with a grin stretching across his face. He walked toward Domenico, hands in his pockets. "These weapons belong to Mr. Martinelli."
Domenico's jaws clenched.
Of course, the name Martinelli could slip out of Carlo's lips. After all, he was their biggest buyer, and Carlo was his favorite dealer.
"Mr. Salvador had already made payment for these weapons months ago. He's one of our loyal and longest clients," Domenico reminded him.
"But you see, Mr. Martinelli paid thirty million dollars to me just so I could get him his order in a week. You can't possibly say no to such a large amount of money, Dom."
Domenico's eyes widened, his gaze like daggers, as if he wanted to bury Carlo instantly.
"Come on. Don't look at me like that. This is just business."
"We're supposed to maintain a good relationship with loyal customers—"
"But what good does it bring when they have to bargain all the time? Do I look like I have the time for that?" Carlo questioned, cocking an eyebrow.
However, Domenico didn't give him a reply.
Carlo walked past him, his eyes settling on the crates.
"This order should be delivered to Mr. Martinelli. Do you understand?" he instructed.
The other armed men hesitated before they replied in unison.
"Yes, boss."
Carlo smiled in satisfaction as he turned to look at Dom, who still hadn't said anything yet.
He patted him on the shoulder.
"I understand that you haven't been in this business for long. But you need to understand that time is money. Loyalty can easily be bought with money, and these old hags you call loyal customers easily leave us when they find a better deal elsewhere." His voice irritated Domenico's ears, leading him to back up a bit as he glared at Carlo. "You have so much to learn, little brother. But don't worry, I'm here to guide you."
Two hours later…
Both men stepped foot inside the massive living room, with golden chandeliers hanging from the roof. Beautiful art hung on the walls, with expensive-looking furniture lying around.
"Mother!!" Carlo called out, his arms widened open, ready to wrap them around his mother, who just smiled at him.
"Carlo! You're late for dinner. What took you so long?" She asked as he gave her a peck on the cheek.
Carlo took his seat before he replied.
"I needed to teach Dom a few things at work," Carlo replied in a condescending tone, as if mocking Domenico. "It's been years, but he still doesn't want to understand anything. Can you believe he was about to prioritize a loyal client over the client who paid thrice the amount just to get his order fast?"
Mrs. Silvestri glanced at Domenico, who'd been silent since he arrived.
Her gaze was cold and unmotherly, her eyes turning into slits as she spoke. "He never wants to learn. He has always been like that and doesn't want to change. I guess the incident didn't teach him a lesson at all."
Goosebumps appeared on Dom's skin as he lifted his gaze to glare at his mother—or rather—stepmother.
"Money should always be the first thing that comes to your mind, Dom, not keeping loyal customers. Loyalty can always be bought, after all."
Carlo screamed when he heard his mother's words. "That was exactly what I told him, word for word. But he never wants to learn." He shook his head in disappointment as he ate his food.
Mr. Silvestri, who'd been listening to their conversation in silence, glanced between Carlo and Domenico.
"I don't think Domenico was wrong." Since the dining room was already silent, the old man's voice was loud and clear enough for everyone to hear. "Loyal clients are the only reason this business thrives, after all."
Carlo resisted the urge to roll his eyes back.
"But, Father—"
"You two need to prove yourselves to me and to the underground world, but all you've been doing is fighting and arguing," he cut Carlo off. "I don't want my hard-earned reputation to go down the drain just because my two sons keep bickering like small children."
Carlo's lips thinned, while Domenico ate his dinner as if he didn't hear his father's words at all.
The old man glanced at him, picking up on his actions, but didn't say anything against it.
"You two only have a few more years before I can declare the rightful heir to the underground world," he spat out. "But instead of planning how to start a family, you both are doing something entirely different. If this continues, I might be left with no choice but to appoint a stranger on the street and officiate things," he threatened.