Page 66 of Mafia Don's Twisted Union

Chapter 30

Carlito

The room hums with low, tense murmurs. The chamber is steeped in shadows, illuminated only by a single hanging light that casts stark contrasts on the faces of the Mafia council seated in a semicircle. Matteo sits at the center of it all, bound to a chair, his suit torn and bloodstained but his demeanor unbroken. His defiance simmers beneath his glare, but I know better than anyone the weight of his situation has finally sunk in.

Leo steps forward, handing me the leather-bound ledger. I open it deliberately, letting the rustle of aged paper cut through the tension. The weight of this moment is not lost on me; this isn’t just about Matteo. It’s about the years of deceit, the lives lost, and the empire he sought to dismantle from within.

“This,” I say, holding up a page covered in handwritten entries, “is what your loyalty to Matteo bought you. Dirty money, backdoor deals, alliances forged in the shadows—all of it recorded in meticulous detail.”

I toss the ledger onto the table in front of the council, the sound sharp and final. “This is the proof of Matteo Russo’s betrayal. Not just to me but to all of us.”

A ripple of agreement passes through the room, quiet but unmistakable.

“You think this makes you better than me?” Matteo sneers, his voice hoarse but steady. “We’re all the same, Carlito. You just hide it better.”

I step closer, my hands gripping the edges of the table as I lean in. “The difference between us, Matteo, is that I know the line between ambition and treachery. You crossed it the moment you put your greed above the family.”

His gaze flickers, just for a second, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

As the council deliberates, I glance at the empty chair that should have been Dominic’s. His absence cuts deeper than I expected. He made his choice, sacrificing himself to save Mia and me, and in doing so, proved that even in the darkness of this world, redemption is possible.

Mia’s face flashes in my mind—her quiet grief, the way she clutched his bloodstained hand in the aftermath. It’s a wound I can’t heal for her, but it fuels my resolve. For her and our child, I’ll ensure this ends here.

The head of the Mafia council raises his hand, and the murmurs cease. “The evidence is clear,” he announces, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “Matteo Russo, you have broken the codeof loyalty. Your punishment will be exile from the council and the forfeiture of your assets.”

A collective exhale sweeps through the room, but my chest remains tight. Exile isn’t death, but for Matteo, it’s close enough. He won’t last long without the protection of the council.

“Take him,” I order, my voice cold and detached. Two guards step forward, dragging Matteo to his feet.

As he’s led away, Matteo turns his head, his bloodied lips twisting into a smirk. “This isn’t over, Carlito,” he hisses. “You’ll see.”

I watch him disappear into the shadows, my fists clenched at my sides. Whatever Matteo has left to fight with, it won’t be enough—not while I have Mia to fight for.

The heavy doors to the council chamber close behind me with a resounding thud. Outside, the cold night air bites at my skin, but it’s a welcome contrast to the stifling tension inside. Matteo’s words linger in my mind like an unwanted echo, but I push them aside. His downfall is complete, and his empire is dismantled—retribution has been served.

As I walk toward the waiting car, my thoughts drift to Mia. She’s been my anchor through this chaos, even as the storm has threatened to pull us apart. Dominic’s death weighs on her, I know. She’s carried herself with strength, but I’ve seen the moments where her guard falters—her quiet stares, the way she presses a hand to her stomach as if grounding herself.

Leo stands by the car, his expression a mixture of relief and wariness. “It’s done,” he says simply as I approach.

I nod. “What about Mia?”

“She’s back at the penthouse,” Leo replies. “She asked not to be disturbed.”

For a moment, I hesitate. The weight of everything we’ve endured presses down on me, and I wonder if she’s ready to let me back in. But this isn’t the time for doubt. Not with what we’ve survived—and not with what lies ahead.

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The penthouse is quiet when I arrive, the soft hum of the city beyond the windows the only sound. I find Mia in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over her legs. She looks up as I enter, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of exhaustion and something deeper—relief, maybe, or a fragile hope.

“You’re back,” she says softly, setting aside the book she hasn’t been reading.

“I am.” I cross the room, sitting beside her. For a moment, we just sit there, the silence between us speaking louder than words.

“I heard what happened,” she says after a while. “The trial. Matteo.”

“It’s over,” I tell her, though the words feel heavier than they should. “He’s been exiled. He won’t come after us again.”

Her gaze drops to her hands, folded neatly in her lap. “And Dominic?”

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