ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs

20. Mr Giovanni?

Author's POV

In a dimly lit room, illuminated only by a few scattered lights, a man in his 40s sat on a couch, casually drinking beer straight from the bottle. Empty beer bottles littered the floor around him, indicating that he had been indulging in the drinks for a while. The subdued lighting and scattered empties painted a picture of solitude and perhaps a sense of escapism for the man in the room.

As the butler entered the room with a tray containing a glass of water and a few medicines, he addressed the man on the couch respectfully, "Boss, your medicines."

The man's cold, red eyes glared at him, sending a shiver down the butler's spine. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want any medicines?" he snapped angrily.

Before the butler could respond, the man's assistant intervened, speaking with concern, "Mr. Giovanni, you should take care of your health. You're getting old now, you have to take care of yourself-" His sentence was abruptly cut off as Giovanni threw the beer bottle on the floor, the sound of shattering glass echoing in the room among the other empty bottles.

"Stop giving me your goddamn useless lectures," Giovanni scowled angrily, his frustration evident in his tone.

As Giovanni listened to the voice on the other end of the line, his expression darkened. "Boss, we have bad news," the voice began.

"What now?" Giovanni interjected, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

"We... we couldn't stop Mr. Siddharth's wedding. I mean, we tried but-" the voice hesitated, sensing Giovanni's growing anger.

"What the hell do you mean you couldn't?" Giovanni erupted furiously.

"B-boss, we tried but-" the voice stammered, interrupted by Giovanni's harsh tone.

"Shut the fuck up, you useless piece of shit! I don't know why the hell I hired you all. All are useless," Giovanni snapped, his anger boiling over.

The man on the other end of the line remained silent under Giovanni's tirade.

"I sent you all to India to ruin his wedding, and you all couldn't even do that," Giovanni continued, his voice dripping with frustration.

"S-sorry, boss," the man managed to speak, his tone filled with remorse.

"What the fuck am I going to do with your sorry?" Giovanni retorted, his rage unabated.

"How many are dead?" Giovanni demanded, his voice seething with rage.

"T-ten," the man on the other end of the line spoke hesitantly.

"WHAT!? TEN!?" Giovanni erupted, springing up from the couch in shock and anger.

"Y-yes, boss," the man replied, his fear palpable.

"I sent fucking eleven men, and ten are dead? What the fuck do you mean?" Giovanni's anger escalated, his frustration boiling over.

The man remained silent, unable to offer an adequate explanation.

"Why the hell are you alive? Just die with them. Useless," Giovanni cursed, his contempt evident in his words.

Giovanni hurled the phone across the room, watching as it shattered into pieces. He sank back onto the couch, gripping his head in frustration.

"Boss, please calm down. We'll find a solution soon," his assistant urged, offering a glass of water.

Giovanni angrily threw the glass as well. "Go away from here," he snapped, but his assistant remained composed.

"Boss, I have an idea," his assistant continued, undeterred by Giovanni's outburst.