Leaving the reception hall, Jacob and his bodyguard walked calmly toward the main villa. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves and the fluttering of birds taking to the sky. The sun blazed above, its rays illuminating the surroundings with a golden glow, casting sharp shadows on the ground.
The reception hall, located on the right side of the sprawling villa, was connected to it by a floating, roofed corridor. This corridor, supported by massive stone pillars, had glass panes on both sides that gave it an open, airy feel. As Jacob walked, his gaze was drawn to the lush garden that surrounded the entire estate. Vibrant flowers in a kaleidoscope of colors were meticulously arranged, interspersed with exotic plants that added an air of sophistication to the scene.
One detail caught Jacob's eye: a table positioned below the corridor, nestled in front of a pillar. The setup included chairs and a red umbrella affixed to the table's center, providing a shaded retreat from the heat of the sun. The sight made Jacob pause for a moment. It was an ideal spot for a casual tea party or a peaceful afternoon of relaxation.
Jacob exhaled deeply, his lips curling into a faint smile of appreciation as he took in the scene. Sam Johnson had certainly outdone himself. "Impressive," Jacob muttered under his breath.
It wasn't just the garden that caught his attention. The entire property screamed wealth and refinement. The perfectly manicured landscape alone must have cost a small fortune—likely in the range of four to five digits. But the reception hall and the grand villa ahead? Those were on another level entirely. Jacob estimated their construction and maintenance would run into six or even seven figures.
"Just what kind of job does Sam have these days?" Jacob mused aloud, his tone tinged with curiosity. Back in high school, Sam had lived a modest, middle-class life—not poor, but certainly not wealthy enough to hint at a future like this. Whatever path Sam had taken since then, it had clearly led him to unimaginable success.
Shaking his head, Jacob continued walking. There was no point in dwelling on thoughts like these. It wasn't as if Sam would hand him millions of dollars if he asked for it. Whatever. Jacob needed to stay focused on the task at hand: convince Sam that he was a mafia boss and then leave, refusing to elaborate. It sounded like a solid plan in theory, but execution was another matter entirely. Without careful handling, this plan could collapse like a house of cards.
At the end of the corridor, Jacob stopped in front of a tightly shut wooden door, its polished brown surface gleaming faintly in the sunlight. He reached for the knob but froze mid-motion when voices drifted through the door. Multiple voices. They seemed to be arguing, their heated tones cutting through the muffled barrier of the door.
"As I said, Henry, I'm already out of that life! Do not bother me any longer! Just let me enjoy my peace!" a deep, strained voice erupted, catching Jacob's attention. Despite the slight change in tone, he immediately recognized it as Sam's voice.
"Don't give me your bullshit, Sam!" Another voice, sharp and angry, countered with venom. Jacob guessed this was the Henry Mira had mentioned. "We're the ones who helped you build this little utopia you're living in! And now you're just going to turn your back on us?"
"Please, just leave us alone—" a woman's voice, soft but trembling, interjected. It was likely Sam's wife, Emi, trying to mediate.
"Shut the fuck up!" Henry snapped, his anger palpable. The sudden shattering of glass followed, the sound making Jacob instinctively flinch.
Crack!
"Hey, don't go too far!" Sam's voice rang out again, full of frustration and alarm.
"Fuck you!" Henry roared, followed by yet another crash of breaking glass.
Jacob rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache forming. The chaos on the other side of the door sounded like the kind of mess he wanted no part of. He glanced at his bodyguard, who stood silent and impassive, waiting for orders. Jacob sighed and chuckled wryly. "Guess we're getting involved," he muttered before twisting the knob and pushing the door open.
Creak!
The door's hinges groaned as it swung inward, revealing the scene inside. The room was in disarray, with shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. Three people stood at the center of the chaos, their disheveled appearances betraying the intensity of their argument. All three turned to stare at Jacob, their expressions a mixture of surprise, irritation, and suspicion.
Jacob couldn't help but feel a twinge of nerves as their gazes locked onto him. Still, he forced himself to project confidence, offering a lopsided grin. "Looks like quite the lively discussion you've got going here."
"Who the hell are you?" Henry barked, narrowing his eyes as he stepped forward. His grip tightened on a shard of glass in his hand, its jagged edge glinting menacingly under the light.
Jacob's gaze flicked to the makeshift weapon, and he chuckled nervously, masking his unease. "That's a felony waiting to happen," he said, nodding toward the glass.
"So what?" Henry sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. "We've been committing crimes for years. What makes murder any different?"
Jacob's smile faltered slightly as a frown tugged at his lips. What the hell is he talking about? He shifted his focus to Sam, hoping for an explanation.
"Jacob!?" Sam suddenly exclaimed, recognition flashing across his face. His voice was tinged with both surprise and dread. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to check on you," Jacob replied smoothly, though his thoughts were far from calm. He gestured vaguely toward the room. "You've been gone a while, and I thought we could catch up on old times. Though," he added, glancing between Henry and Emi, "it looks like I've walked in on something... interesting."
Sam sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. His face was a mixture of shame and frustration. "Jacob," he said slowly, "can I trust you not to mention anything about this to anyone?"
Before Jacob could respond, Henry suddenly burst into laughter, loud and mocking. His laughter filled the room, making Sam's expression darken further.
"Jacob, was it?" Henry said, his voice laced with cruel amusement. He pointed the glass shard at Jacob as though it were a weapon. "Let me tell you something about your 'friend' here. All this wealth he's sitting on? The villa, the garden, the party hall? He owes it to us. Your buddy Sam here built his little empire by robbing a bank!"
"Henry!" Sam barked, his voice thunderous with rage.
Jacob's mind reeled at the revelation. He blinked, struggling to process what he had just heard. "Robbing a bank?" he muttered to himself. "Is that supposed to be literal or metaphorical?"
Judging by the seriousness in Henry's tone and the weight of Sam's reaction, it didn't seem like a joke. Jacob's stomach churned slightly as he stared at Sam. Just what the hell is happening?