Page 21 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

Her shoulders sag, the fight slowly bleeding out of her. The mask slips, and for the first time, I see the reality of it all crushing her. Eventually, after she's done yelling, and the silence becomes awkward, she looks away from me.

"Yes," she whispers, barely audible. "Leo is your son. But you don't deserve him."

The room tilts; the ground shifts beneath me. It's like an earthquake that only I can feel.

I can't move. Can't breathe. The confession I've been chasing now strangles me. My son.

I stagger back a step. Images of Leo flash through my mind—his dark hair, his stubborn chin, his eyes… my eyes. The way he hurtles through my house—completely innocent of the life I live between these same walls. Maybe she's right.

But I can't let Marco take him. That boy is mine, and I will kill anyone who threatens him.

My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I struggle to accept it. Every instinct in me wants more answers,but all I can see is that boy's face—my face. He deserves to keep his innocence; to have the life she fought to give him.

Serafina watches me cautiously, bracing for the fight she expects to come.

But there is no enormous explosion. Only cold, hard clarity.

"Marco knows," I say, my voice barely above a whisper but carrying the gravity of that threat.

She nods slowly. "That's why we're here isn't it?"

I move without thinking,crossing the room in two strides. My hands grip her shoulders, firm but not harsh, I shake her.

"He will never get him."

Her eyes widen, searching mine for something—fear, rage, anything.

"Alessandro—" she starts, her voice soft, almost pleading.

"No." My grip tightens. "I failed you. But I won't fail him."

The walls I built around my heart crumble as I think of Leo—my son—in Marco's crosshairs. I've burned men for less. I will burn Marco alive if he touches him.

Her breath shudders. I see the genuine fear in her eyes—but not of me.

"What are you going to do?" she whispers.

I release her, turning toward the door. My mind is already racing—strategy, security, destruction. Marco made this personal. We've been locked in a cold war—a silent standoff, but I am about to shatter the illusion of peace.

"Whatever it takes."

ALESSANDRO

Days have passed since Serafina finally told the truth—Leo is my son. The revelation should have brought clarity, but instead, it's like standing on the edge of a blade, teetering between fury and fierce protectiveness. I have never been afraid, but the fear that someone wants to hurt him has shaken me.

Serafina has been distant, and I can't blame her. Trust won't come easy after everything I've done—after how I left her. I doubt she will ever forgive me, even if I could explain the truth of the past to her.

We're learning how to exist in the same space, forced together by the need to keep Leo safe and protect his innocence. Every interaction I have with Serafina is a delicate dance—one wrong step and the fragile peace between us shatters, and she shuts me out again. But every time I see her with Leo, my resolve hardens. I have to protect them, no matter what.

The rain started early this morning, a cold and relentless downpour that only makes the tension I'm feeling worse. The city is cloaked in gray, and yet the actual storm is brewing beneath the surface. It's not the thunderclouds or lightning I worry about—it's Marco.

Earlier, I had Enzo deliver a car to Serafina—a sleek, black sedan with reinforced armor. It wasn't just a gift; it was a necessity. Her old car was left at the crash site, and I couldn't risk her being without transportation. I glance at my phone—no new messages from Enzo. He's been running security checks all morning, and I trust him to keep our perimeter tight. But Marco isn't someone who plays by rules. He's cunning. Unpredictable. Dangerous. I'm afraid to trust even my best men; anyone could be a rat.

Serafina hasn't spoken much today. She's been quiet, keeping Leo busy with games and cartoons. Distracting him from the palpable tension in the house. When I gave her the car, I told her it was strictly for emergencies. I had no idea she'd decide to leave the estate this morning without telling me.

I caught a glimpse of them earlier in the library—Leo perched on her lap as she read to him. For a moment, it was easy to imagine this was our life—simple, safe. But safety is a luxury we don't have. And the moment we do, I know she will want to leave me.

The rain buckets down, blurring the city lights as they flicker through the windshield wipers. My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I weave through heavy traffic, the hum of the engine barely masking the pounding in my chest.

---