Page 105 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

“My husband’s death was ruled a heart attack,” she says, her tone unbothered. “There was no evidence of foul play.”

“Well, to be factually correct, there was evidence—lots of it. It was just... removed.”

I stand, grabbing my wineglass and walking slowly toward her end of the table, my eyes never leaving hers. Several of her guards shift nervously which makes Jax and Enzo shift.

Stella holds her hand out to her guards, quieting them down.

“Funny how that works,” I say, my voice calm but edged with something darker, as I take a sip.

Stella’s face falters for only a second, but I catch it. Just a flicker of panic behind that polished mask.

“Next time you hire a hacker to erase video footage of you committing—a murder,” I draw out the word deliberately, “ma-a-a-ybe make sure they actually, you know, delete it. Hackers like to keep insurance policies on their clients... especially the really shitty ones.”

I pause for a moment, standing just behind Johnny Boy, watching her squirm ever so slightly before I cut my eyes to him. “Get the fuck up,” I deadpan, and he all but teleports out of his chair to stand along the back wall. I lift myself onto the table, sitting with one leg crossed over the other as my dress cascades to either side. I rest my wrist over my knee, swirling my wineglass lazily.

“There’s this thing hackers do that’s really fun. It’s called a 'dead man’s chest.' Very old-school pirates, and I’m here for it.”

The words hang in the air like a warning. Stella knows exactly what I’m talking about, and I can see the growing unease in her eyes.

“If that hacker were to ever be betrayed by said shitty client,” I continue, “all their dirty little secrets would spill for everyone to see.”

I smile at her sweetly, watching the tension mount within her. “Or if a better hacker beats them to death and then breaks open–everything they ever touched.” She swallows hard, not sure if I’m bluffing.

“Oh, I get it. You think this is a bluff.” I nod, lacing every word with sarcasm and disdain. “I can understand that. Well, show of hands, everyone.” I hop off the table, looking to the guests. “Who wants to watch footage of my mother killing my father?”

I raise my hand, glancing around for others.

Francesca raises hers tentatively, looking around to see if anyone else joins her. They seem unsure whether I’m serious.

“Ah, Luca, see that. The Queen wants to see the footage, so… we’ve got to play it.”

“This is getting good,” Francesca whispers to the leader of the Russian Bratva, who looks at my mother’s guards behind him with malice. Maybe we should have served popcorn instead of wine.

“Luca, play the clip,” I say with a calmness that contrasts sharply with the heat running through my veins.

Jax snickers softly, and I narrow my eyes at him. That’s exactly what he said to Luca the morning we reunited over breakfast—you know, when they played that clip of me faking an orgasm with... Malachi? No, wait. Marvin?

Luca leans over with a smirk. “Mark,” he mouths, reminding me of the poor guy’s name.

With that, he presses a button on a remote control in his hand. I keep my eyes trained on Stella, the monster whose womb I had the misfortune of being born from.

Above us, recessed television screens slowly descend from the ceiling, and the lights dim. The room falls into a hushed silence as the screens flicker to life, and everyone holds their breath as the black-and-white video footage starts to play.

The room is silent as the video plays, the footage crystal clear. It’s my mother, walking through the front door of the Caputo estate. I watch her with a sense of detachment, almost as if I’m watching someone else.

“Pause here for me, babe?” I ask Luca, who halts the video on a close-up image of my mother’s face.

“See her expression here? Like she’s constantly smelling dog shit?” I point from the screen to my mother, wearing the same scowl then as she is now. “Yup, exactly like that. Same person.”

I nod to Luca, and he lets the footage continue as she strolls into the house without hesitation.

I turn to the room. “So, what happened just before this was an EMP,” I explain, pausing to glance at their wide-eyed faces. “An EMP is basically an electric bomb. It was set off, and it disabled the entire security system for about thirty seconds—just long enough for her hacker to take over the system without anyone knowing.”

The screen splits, showing a side-by-side view of my mother entering the house and the footage from the security room.Everything looks normal. The security team is watching a looped playback, completely unaware that a killer is walking through the door.

Tension builds in the room. Subtle gasps and whispers ripple among the guests, while others remain silent, their attention glued to the screen.

My mother walks through the estate, heading toward my father’s room. There is no hesitation, no remorse. She glances to the side, ensuring the coast is clear, then takes a deep breath and moves forward.

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