Page 33 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
Her eyes search mine for what feels like an eternity before she finally exhales, a resigned sigh that carries the weight of her decision. “I’ve already thought about that,” she says quietly.
My breath catches. “What do you mean?”
Sofia’s gaze flicks around the garden again before she leans in slightly. “There’s a way to create a diversion, something that could buy you enough time. But it’s risky. We’ll need to use their own systems against them.”
The idea is terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. “What kind of diversion?”
She hesitates, her fingers toying with the hem of her jacket. “It’s better if I don’t say too much right now. The less you know, the safer you are. But when the time comes, you’ll need to be ready. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Can you do that?”
I hesitate, the weight of her words pressing down on me. Could I really leave? Could I walk away from Luca, from this life, from the strange pull he has over me?
“I can,” I say finally.
You’re lying, a voice inside my head screams.
Sofia nods, but her expression doesn’t soften. “This isn’t a game, Valentina. If you want out, you have to be willing to risk everything. Once it starts, there’s no turning back.”
“I understand.”
She studies me for another moment, then reaches out to squeeze my hand. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like an anchor in the chaos. “You’re stronger than you think,” she says softly.
I can’t bring myself to tell her strength will only take me so far when my heart is stumbling, so I force a smile. “Let’s hope so.”
We stand there for a moment, the tension between us giving way to an uneasy silence. Somewhere in the distance, a door slams, the sound echoing faintly through the garden. “We should head back,” Sofia says, her voice pitched low.
I nod, my chest tightening as we begin the slow walk back toward the estate. The path feels longer now, the weight of what we’ve just discussed settling heavily on my shoulders.
As we near the entrance, Sofia glances at me, her expression unreadable. “When the time comes, you’ll know,” she says quietly. “The rest, Valentina, depends on what you choose.”
13
LUCA
The polished surface of the table gleams under the warm light of the office’s chandelier, but there’s nothing warm about the atmosphere in the room. Maps and documents are spread out like pieces of a fractured puzzle, each one a reminder of last night’s ambush. My jaw tightens as I lean forward, my hands splayed across the table. The tension in the room is suffocating, the men seated around me shifting uneasily under my gaze.
“Explain to me,” I begin, my voice sharp enough to cut through steel, “how we were made fools of?”
No one speaks.
Marco clears his throat, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room before he looks at me. “We’re still piecing it together. They’re careful—no obvious affiliations. But the timing?—”
“The timing is Rossi,” I finish for him, my tone dry and bitter.
A muscle in Marco’s jaw twitches, and he nods. Adriano, seated to my left, shifts in his chair. His dark eyes are fixed on me, and he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “We’ll interrogate every informant in the network,” he says. “No one gets a pass.”
I nod once in a sharp gesture of approval. “Good. I want names, alliances, and motives. If they so much as whisper Rossi’s name, I want them dragged in here.”
The room is silent again as my words sink in. I glance at Dante, who’s leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. His usual smugness is gone, replaced by a seriousness that tells me even he understands the stakes. “Dante,” I say, drawing his attention. “Financial records. Find out if anyone’s been shifting money in ways that don’t make sense. Follow every trail.”
Dante nods, his expression tight.
The meeting drags on, compelling me to finish three cups of coffee in quick succession. Reports begin to trickle in as the night wears on, each one more frustrating than the last. Every clue points to the same conclusion: a small but ruthless faction backed by the Rossi family carried out that night’s ambush.
The realization burns through me in a wave of anger that I keep tightly controlled. The Rossis have always been ambitious, but this? This is a direct challenge, a declaration of war on my family’s power. “Rossi thinks he can take what’s mine,” I say, my voice low but brimming with menace.
Marco leans forward, his gaze steady. “We’ll remind him why that’s a mistake.”
“We will,” I agree. “But first, I want to know who the traitor is. They couldn’t have known we’d be there without inside intel.”
