Chapter 3 The Heart Within

Next, Rhomana turned to Sofia, who handled the hotel operations. "Sofia, give me the update on hotel occupancy and customer satisfaction."

Sofia, a sharp and efficient woman, straightened her papers and began. "Customer satisfaction has been strong. Our luxury suites are fully booked most weekends, and we've had positive feedback on our customer service. But as Lucian mentioned, we're facing some challenges with our downtown hotel. We're exploring partnerships with local businesses to create more unique experiences for our guests, which should help improve bookings."

Rhomana nodded thoughtfully. "Good. Keep pushing for those partnerships. We need to stay ahead of the competition."

Finally, Vinny, who oversaw the casino operations, gave his report. "Casino revenue is up, as Lucian said. We've also installed several new games that are attracting attention from the younger crowd. Our VIP section is doing well, but we could bring in more high rollers if we start offering more exclusive promotions."

Rhomana leaned back in his chair, taking in the information. "Alright. Here's what we need to focus on," he said, summarizing. "Vinny, work with the marketing team to create a new promotion. Something big that will bring in more high rollers. Sofia, I want you to focus on enhancing the customer experience. We need to be offering something unique that they can't get anywhere else. Make it happen."

Both Vinny and Sofia nodded, writing down notes. "Understood, Mister Ivanovick," they both said in unison.

Rhomana stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "Let's keep things moving. I expect results by the next quarter," he said with finality. The managers stood up once more as Rhomana prepared to leave the room.

The meeting was over, but the work was just beginning.

On the countryside of Willowbrook, twelve-year-old Nathan Grapes was busy working on his family's small farm. The farm was simple, with rows of vegetables, tomatoes, and a few scattered fruit trees. The sun was shining down on the green fields, and Nathan was crouched down among the tomato plants, carefully plucking ripe, red tomatoes from the vines. He gently placed each one into a woven basket, making sure not to bruise them. The basket was slowly filling up, and he worked patiently, wiping sweat from his forehead as he went.

Nearby, his grandmother Diana was ploughing the field with an old hand plough. Even though she was getting older, her movements were steady and strong. She wore a wide-brimmed hat to protect herself from the sun, and every few minutes, she'd stop to catch her breath and check on her grandson.

"Nathan," Diana called out, her voice firm but kind, "hurry up with those tomatoes! Your mother's probably waiting for them at the market."

Nathan looked up from his work, holding the nearly full basket of tomatoes. "I'm almost done, Grandma!" he replied, grabbing the last few tomatoes and putting them carefully into the basket. He stood up, dusted off his pants, and picked up the basket, balancing it in his arms.

As he started to head out of the farm, Diana called out again, reminding him, "Be careful, Nathan! Watch out for the traffic on the street, alright?"

Nathan nodded, adjusting his grip on the basket. "I will, Grandma. Don't worry!" he said with a smile, before walking out of the farm, heading down the dirt path toward the market. The sound of birds and the wind through the trees accompanied him as he made his way, carrying the fresh tomatoes his family worked so hard to grow.

After Nathan left the farm, he walked over to his old bike, the one his father, Philip, had bought for him before he got arrested for theft a year ago. Since then, life had been tough for Nathan and his family. Without his father around, money was tight, and they had to rely on the little they could grow on their small farm. The bike, though worn and a little rusty now, was still Nathan's way of helping his family. He climbed onto it, gripping the handles firmly, and began pedaling toward the market.

As he rode down the dusty road, Nathan passed by other small farms and saw a few kids playing in the street. A couple of cars zoomed past him, kicking up dirt. He could hear the faint sound of a train in the distance, and birds flew overhead, chirping as they soared through the blue sky. The market wasn't too far, but every time Nathan rode this path, it reminded him how much their lives had changed without his father.

When he finally arrived at the busy market, filled with the sounds of vendors calling out and people chatting, he spotted his mother, Anna, sitting at her small bench where she sold their farm's produce. She had a tired but kind look on her face as she waited for him. Her long brown hair was tied back in a simple braid, and her apron was covered with dirt from the farm.

"Hey, Mom!" Nathan greeted her as he hopped off his bike, pulling the basket of tomatoes from the back.

Anna smiled warmly at her son, her eyes showing a mixture of pride and weariness. "There you are, Nathan! Let's see those tomatoes."

Nathan handed over the basket, and Anna quickly began sorting through the tomatoes, piling them neatly on her bench for sale. She worked efficiently, her hands moving with practiced ease.

"Good job," she said, nodding at him. Then she handed him a small plastic bag filled with rice and another with peas. "Take these home, Nathan. Cook them up for lunch, okay? And don't worry about saving any for me."

Nathan frowned, holding the bags. "But, Mom, why shouldn't we save some for you. It's enough for three."

Anna smiled, though this time it was a bit sad. She knew the rice and the peas weren't enough for three.

"I've already had my lunch, don't worry." She was lying, but she didn't want Nathan to worry about her.

"Go quick! Your grandmother might be hungry." She continued.

Nathan hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, feeling proud of his mother's strength. "Alright, Mom. I'll make sure we eat, and I'll come back later to help."

Anna patted him on the shoulder. "That's my boy. Be careful on your way back, okay?"

"I will, Mom," Nathan replied, and with that, he got back on his bike, the bags of rice and peas carefully secured. As he rode back home, he couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility growing inside him. He had to help his family, especially now that things were harder than ever.

When Nathan arrived home, he slowed his bike to a stop in front of the small wooden house. He carefully hopped off, and as usual, he hung his bike on the rusty metal hook by the side of the house. The hook had been there for years, ever since his father set it up, and it was still strong enough to hold the bike.

Nathan wiped the sweat off his forehead and walked toward the house, holding the small bags of rice and peas his mother had given him. Once inside, he headed straight for the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter, washed his hands, and then turned on the oven.

He started by rinsing the rice under cold water, just like his mother had taught him. He then filled a pot with water, added the rice, and put it on the stove to boil. As the rice cooked, he moved on to the peas. He opened the bag, poured the peas into another pot, added a little water, salt, and some spices they had in the cupboard. Nathan stirred the peas gently, watching them cook as the warm smells filled the kitchen.

After about thirty minutes, the rice was soft, and the peas were ready. Nathan carefully turned off the stove and covered both pots to keep the food warm. Just as he finished, his grandmother Diana came home from the farm. She walked in, wiping her hands on her apron, and immediately noticed the delicious smell in the air.

"Well, what's this?" Diana said, her eyes wide with surprise. "I could smell that from outside! Nathan, did you cook this?"

Nathan grinned proudly. "Yes, Grandma! Mom gave me the rice and peas, and I figured I'd start lunch while you were finishing up."

Diana raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. "I can't believe it. You're growing up so fast, and you're cooking now too? This smells wonderful, Nathan."

Nathan chuckled. "Thanks, Grandma. I just did what Mom taught me. You think it's good enough?"

Diana smiled warmly, patting him on the shoulder. "Good enough? It smells like a feast! Let's eat, I'm starving after all that work."

Nathan beamed, happy to see his grandmother so proud of him. Together, they sat down at the small kitchen table, ready to enjoy the meal he had prepared.

That evening, as the sun set over Willowbrook, Rhomana Ivanovick was finishing up his day in his office. His fingers danced over the keyboard as he sent off the last few emails and reviewed the final details of a hotel deal. He glanced over the spreadsheets one more time, making sure everything was in order. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair, checking his watch and it was time to go.

Standing up, Rhomana gathered his belongings and tidied up his desk. He pulled out a beautiful, red card from his pocket and used it to lock his office door. The card slid smoothly through the scanner, and a soft beep confirmed the lock was engaged. He glanced around the darkening room one last time, then nodded to himself, ready to head home.

As he exited his office, Marco, his assistant, was already waiting by the door. "All set, sir?" Marco asked, holding the door open for him.

"Everything's in order," Rhomana replied, stepping out. "Make sure tomorrow's meeting is prepared. I'll see you in the morning."

Marco nodded. "Of course, Mister Ivanovick. Have a safe drive home."

Rhomana gave him a brief nod in return and walked toward the waiting convoy outside. Romeo Ross, his loyal driver, stood by the lead vehicle, a row of pristine white BMW Seven-Series lined up in perfect formation. The sight of them always gave Rhomana a sense of power and control, a reminder of the empire he had built.

As Rhomana approached, Romeo immediately stepped forward and opened the rear door for him. "Good evening, Mister Ivanovick," Romeo said with a respectful bow of his head.

"Evening, Romeo," Rhomana replied smoothly, sliding into the soft leather seat.

Once Rhomana was settled in, Romeo closed the door and quickly moved to the driver's seat. The convoy rolled out of the office complex, smoothly navigating the streets of Willowbrook. The city lights flickered as they passed, the calm of the night wrapping around them. After a short drive, the convoy approached the large, iron gates of Rhomana's estate. The gates swung open automatically as they neared, controlled by the security system in place.

The convoy glided through the gates and into the yard, where the green, pruned lawns stretched out before the grand mansion. The yard was perfectly maintained, with rows of hedges, a large fountain in the center, and bright, white stone paths leading to the entrance of the mansion.

Romeo pulled the lead car to a stop at the entrance, and he, along with the other drivers, quickly stepped out of their vehicles as a sign of respect. Romeo moved swiftly to open the rear door for Rhomana, who stepped out with his usual calm authority.

Alexis, Rhomana's wife, walked to him, and her eyes light up as she approached. "Welcome home," she greeted him with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Alexis," Rhomana replied, giving Alexis a hug and offering her a soft smile in return.

Together, they walked toward the entrance of the mansion, their footsteps echoing lightly on the stone path. Inside, Camilla, their daughter, waited patiently, knowing she wasn't allowed to greet her father outside. Alexis and Rhomana entered the house, their long day finally coming to an end as the grand door closed softly behind them.

Elsewhere in Willowbrook, the elite had gathered at the Belluva Art Gallery for a grand charity event. The gallery was a stunning display of luxury and culture, with high ceilings and polished marble floors. Art hung on every wall, showcasing masterpieces from around the world. The centerpiece of the evening was a rare Monet watercolor painting titled "The Avante." Guests dressed in beautiful attire sipped champagne from crystal glasses as they moved from one piece of art to another, their conversations filled with admiration.

Several guests stood in front of The Avante, their eyes wide with wonder.

"This piece is extraordinary," one woman whispered to her companion, her voice full of awe.

"Look at the brushwork! Monet captured movement like no other," another guest remarked.

A man nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the painting. "The detail is so delicate, yet the emotions are powerful. It's truly priceless."

As the guests admired the artwork, none of them noticed a shadowy group of thieves entering the building through an opening on the floor. These thieves, hired by the Mafia, were dressed in black tactical attire, their faces hidden behind dark masks. They moved silently, like shadows, emerging from the floor without a sound. Each step was precise, and their timing perfect.

Once inside, they got to work. One of them pulled out a jamming device, quickly disabling the security cameras, while another took care of the alarm system with a few swift movements of their hands. They worked with calm efficiency, knowing they couldn't afford any mistakes. All the while, the guests remained unaware, still focused on the art and their conversations.

Meanwhile, back in his office, Arthur "The Don" Morret, was watching everything unfold. His large screen, connected to a hidden surveillance system, gave him a full view of the Belluva Art Gallery. He could see the thieves moving through the building, their movements captured by cameras the thieves hadn't noticed. Arthur's eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he reached for his phone.

Dialing quickly, Arthur called Pablo, the captain of the Nocoa Terminals, his elite team. The phone rang for just a second before Pablo picked up.

"Sir?" Pablo's voice was sharp and focused.

"We've got a situation at the Belluva Art Gallery," Arthur said, his tone steady. "A group of thieves just broke in. They're taking out the security systems, but they haven't touched The Avante yet."

Pablo didn't hesitate. "Understood. My team and I will be there in five minutes. We'll take them down before they realize what hit them."

Arthur nodded, though Pablo couldn't see it. "Good. No one else can know about this, Pablo. Keep it quiet."

"We'll handle it, sir," Pablo replied confidently. "We're ready to handle them clean."

Satisfied with the response, Arthur hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, watching the screen. He knew that with Pablo and the Nocoa Terminals on the job, those thieves didn't stand a chance.

Back at the Belluva Art Gallery, the thieves made their next move. One of them quickly shut off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. The team then pulled on night vision goggles, green lenses glowing faintly as they moved through the shadows. Panic erupted as the guests started screaming, stumbling in the dark and trying to find the exit. The thieves, however, stayed calm, knowing this chaos was their cover.

Their team leader stepped forward to the Monet painting, "The Avante." With practiced precision, he removed it from the wall, swiftly placing a fake in its place. His movements were smooth and quick, taking no more than a few minutes. Meanwhile, the panic in the gallery grew, people pushing and yelling as they tried to escape the darkness.

Just as the thieves were about to make their escape with the stolen painting, something unexpected happened. A thick smoke began to fill the gallery, swirling through the air, and confusing the thieves. They had no idea where it was coming from, and it slowed them down. The people in the gallery, who had been screaming moments earlier, suddenly became silent as they breathed in the smoke, collapsing to the floor unconscious.

The thieves hesitated, looking around in confusion. In the distance, the sound of police sirens wailed, growing louder. Before the thieves could react, gunshots rang out. Each thief was hit on the shoulder, dropping one by one to the ground, unconscious. The Nocoa Terminals had arrived, silent and deadly, taking control of the situation in seconds.