Page 103 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

Several minutes later, while Luca distracted Enzo with drone footage, I sneaked Enzo’s phone away. Jax huddled close to me, holding down the button until the phone assistant popped up.

“Set a reminder in three days that Jax’s new safe word is Giuseppe,” he whispered into the phone. I quickly blacked out the screen and slipped it back before Enzo noticed.

As the man, the myth, the legend himself, Giuseppe, stands to greet me, I cast a quick, knowing look behind me. Jax and Luca suppress grins while Enzo rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, as if sending a prayer for patience.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Ms. Caputo. Though I admit, the last time we met, you were just a girl and likely don’t remember me,” Giuseppe says, taking my hand with both of his.

He must be in his mid-seventies, with white hair and bushy black eyebrows. I imagine he’s seen it all after working for the mafia for so long. “I knew Salvatore since he was a baby. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thomas,” I reply politely. Hearing good things about my father isn’t something I’m accustomed to.

“You are the spitting image of your father, but much prettier,” he says warmly, his eyes gleaming.

“I would hope so,” I tease back with a small smile.

“I have everything prepared as requested, Ms. Caputo. We can begin when you’re ready.” He nods and returns to his seat.

Enzo takes his place as one of the family heads. Jax and Luca position themselves behind my chair, with Luca pulling it out for me. A snicker from the table catches my attention, and I turn to see "Johnny Boy" Moretti sneering at me, shaking his head as if I’m carrying the zombie plague.

“Ah,” I say, changing course and rounding the table toward him. “You must be ‘Johnny Boy’ Moretti.” I extend my hand, and he can’t refuse it in front of so many family heads. “I had the pleasure of meeting your father recently.”

His eyes narrow, but he takes my hand. As he does, I yank him toward me, catching him off guard. He stumbles, nearly face-planting onto the marble floor as he grabs the table for support. His ear is now close enough for me to whisper.

“We both know there’s not a drop of Moretti blood in your body,” I say, my voice low and level. “I’d keep my head down if I were you, before a blood test proves you’re just a low-level soldier pretending a limp dick is your daddy. M’kay?” I let go of his tie and watch him straighten himself, his face as red as a tomato. “Nice tie. Is that polyester?”

I walk back to my chair without waiting for a response.

“Thank you all for coming. Please, be seated.” I take my seat, and Luca pushes my chair in. The guests follow suit, their companions and bodyguards lining the back walls.

Jax reaches around to the open wine bottle in front of me, pouring me a glass.

Being in my father’s wine cellar, it’s no surprise he had a vast collection, including his favorite—a rich port wine. I was pleased to find bottles of my favorite wine stocked, so I requested some be opened for the guests.

Careful not to let my fingers tremble, I raise my glass. “To Salvatore Caputo.”

The guests lift their glasses with solemn nods, some murmuring my father’s name before taking a sip. I set my glass down, my deep-red lipstick staining the rim.

My new best friend Giuseppe begins the reading of the will. Gathering his papers, he steps to a podium. Clearing his throat, he begins to read the words that will change the rest of my life.

“This is the last will and testament of Salvatore Caputo,” he announces, each word heavy with significance. “This document shall serve as the official transfer of power, effective immediately upon my client’s death.”

The tension in the room is palpable as his words echo.

Giuseppe clears his throat, turning the page as the weight of his words settles over the room. “I, Giuseppe Thomas, prepared this will with Mr. Caputo, drafted during a pivotal time in his life when he and Mrs. Caputo were expecting their first child—a daughter named Delaney Caputo. Salvatore, ever the protector and visionary, ensured this document would secure the succession of the Caputo name in the event of his passing.”

His gaze flickers to me briefly before he continues, his voice steady. “Everything in this will was prepared with his greatest treasure in mind: the future of the Caputo family.”

My chest tightens at his phrasing.Il mio tesoro.The words echo in my memory. To my father, the future of the Caputo family was his treasure—me.

“Salvatore Caputo, in his final wishes, bequeaths his entire estate and all assets, both personal and business-related, to his beloved wife, Stella Caputo. In the event of her passing, all estate responsibilities and assets are to transfer to his only child, Delaney Caputo. As his next of kin, Delaney will assume all responsibilities associated with the Caputo family, including its assets, operations, and the family business itself.”

A murmur ripples through the room, but it quickly dies out. The gathered family heads exchange glances, their expressionsranging from wary to intrigued. I keep my face neutral, even as my heart races. This isn’t just about inheriting a fortune; it’s about stepping into a legacy of power, violence, and betrayal. The enormity of it presses down on me.

Giuseppe’s voice cuts through the tension. “Is there anyone present who disputes the passing of Salvatore Caputo’s assets or wishes to present a claim?”

Silence.

It’s a silence that feels heavy, expectant, like the calm before a storm. My grip on the chair tightens, and I scan the faces around the table. No one speaks, but their eyes are on me—calculating, assessing. It’s clear that my every move is being scrutinized.

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