The chat

The morning sun gently streamed through the windows of the De Santa household. Vincent shuffled down the stairs, still groggy from last night's heist. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up the act, especially with his family getting suspicious. As he entered the kitchen, the usual sounds of family life greeted him—Tracey and Jimmy were already sitting at the table, half-engaged in their own worlds.

Tracey scrolled through her phone, only acknowledging Vincent's presence with a quick glance. "Good morning," she muttered without looking up, still immersed in her social media feed.

Jimmy, on the other hand, was glued to the TV nearby, yelling at his video game. "Come on! No way that guy beat me. Lag, I swear!" he grumbled, slamming the controller down on the table next to his plate of half-eaten pancakes.

Their mother, Amanda, was busy at the stove, flipping pancakes and pouring coffee. She turned her head when Vincent sat down. "Nice of you to finally show up," she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. She placed a plate in front of him. 

Vincent could feel her eyes on him as he picked at his breakfast. He had to keep calm, "Good morning mom," he mumbled, trying to sound casual.

Amanda narrowed her eyes but said nothing, her suspicion evident. She moved to refill Tracey's cup of orange juice and sat down with the family. The breakfast continued in silence, but the tension was palpable. It felt like everyone was on edge, even if only Amanda was aware of it.

"Vincent," Amanda broke the quiet again, her voice soft but firm, "You're staying in tonight. I don't want you running off like you did last night. Got it?"

Vincent nodded, keeping his eyes on his plate. "Yeah, sure, Mom."

Jimmy, still lost in his game, finally spoke up, though not directed at anyone. "Whatever, dude. It's not like we're all staying here 24/7."

Tracey snorted, glancing up from her phone. "Speak for yourself, Jimmy. I've got plans tonight."

Amanda shot a warning look at both of them, shutting down any further complaints. "Enough, you two. We're having a family night. Vincent, I'm serious about this."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Vincent replied, doing his best to keep his tone neutral. His mind was already thinking ahead to the next heist, but he needed to lay low for now. At least until the heat from last night died down.

After breakfast, Vincent tried to retreat back to his room when he heard his father's voice. "Vincent, come outside. I need a word."

Michael sat by the pool, sunglasses on, a beer already in hand. Vincent's stomach tightened as he approached. His father wasn't the type to let things go easily, and Vincent knew this conversation was going to be uncomfortable.

"Yeah?" Vincent said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Michael didn't even look at him at first, taking a long sip of his drink before finally speaking. "What the hell's been going on with you lately? Out late, coming home with more cash than I've seen you earn. You better start talking before I make some calls and find out myself."

Vincent's pulse quickened, but he kept his face neutral. "I'm handling things, Dad. Just working on some stuff."

Michael took off his sunglasses and stared at him, his expression hard. "Don't give me that bullshit. I know how this works, and I know trouble when I see it. Is this about money? If you're in deep, you need to tell me now before this gets out of control."

Vincent crossed his arms, trying to stand his ground. "I'm fine. I've got it under control."

Michael stood up, now just inches from his son. "Vincent, I'm telling you this because I've been down this road. I've seen what happens when people think they can take shortcuts. It never ends well. You've seen how this family's been through the wringer. Don't drag yourself into something you can't get out of."

Vincent met his father's intense gaze, but he didn't waver. "I'm not you, Dad. I can handle this."

For a moment, Michael's expression softened, but his voice remained firm. "Maybe not, but if you're not careful, you'll end up worse. And when that happens, don't expect me to bail you out."

Vincent clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of his father's words, but he couldn't back down now. "I appreciate the concern, but I've got this. Trust me."

Michael sighed heavily, turning back to the pool. "I hope you're right, kid."

Vincent turned away, heading back inside, but the tension in the air hung thick, his father's words still ringing in his ears.