“November 15th.”
“And when did Marcus Thompson die?”
Vincent’s face drained of color.
“August. August 23.”
“So he signed this loan agreement two months after he died.”
The office fell silent.
Vice opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Rocco stood and slowly walked around the desk until he was behind Vice’s chair.
“You forged the signature of a dead man to justify robbing his widow and daughter.”
“Boss, I can explain…”
“You took furniture from a 7-year-old girl.”
Rocco placed a hand on Vice’s shoulder.
“You left a grieving mother with no way to feed her child. You put bruises on that child’s arm.”
His voice remained calm, but the room seemed to grow colder.
“And you did it using my name.”
Vincent tried to turn, but Rocco’s grip held him in place.
“How many more families?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“How many forged documents? How many dead husbands suddenly asked you for loans? How many children are starving because you decided to build your own empire?”
Vice’s breathing quickened.
“Boss, you have to understand. These people… they’re nobody. It doesn’t matter to the real business. I was just making some extra money.”
“Wrong answer.”
Rocco tightened his grip.
“That girl tried to sell me her bicycle just to feed her mother.”
Vice shrugged weakly.
