Page 20 of The Mafia King's Lost Son
I start walking with no real destination in mind. Just moving because standing still means thinking and thinking means acknowledging the magnitude of what I just did.
Hours pass.
Marco calls with updates that lead nowhere. She’s vanished, just like that. No credit card usage. No phone activity. No sightings. It’s like she disappeared into thin air the moment she hit that alley.
“Boss, I’m telling you, she’s a ghost. Either she’s dead in a ditch somewhere or she ran. Left the city entirely.”
“Keep looking.”
But hours turn into days, and there’s still nothing. No trace. No trail. No evidence she even existed except for the memory of green eyes and the taste of her still lingering on my tongue.
I throw resources at the search that should be going elsewhere. Pull in favors. Lean on contacts. Check every lead, every rumor, every possible sighting that comes through while still remaining discreet because my father can’t find out.
But still nothing.
She’s gone. Truly gone. She must have been really scared that night.
And she didn’t even know that the movement I let her touch me, I knew I wasn’t going to kill her.
The meeting happens a week after the hit on Antonio’s mansion. My father sits behind his desk in the study that smells like cigars and old money, his eyes cold as he listens to my report.
“So Antonio Marchetti is dead.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the mansion?”
“Burned to the ground. My men torched it after we cleared out. Nothing left but ashes.”
“Good.” He leans back in his chair, satisfaction crossing his features. “And witnesses?”
The lie comes easily. “None. We eliminated everyone in the building. Anyone who saw anything is dead.”
He nods slowly. “The other families will know we did this. Antonio did not have so many enemies for them not to suspect us.”
“Let them suspect. They can’t prove shit.”
“And the ledger? Did you find Antonio’s famous insurance policy?”
“If it existed, it burned with everything else. We tore that place apart before we torched it. There was nothing.”
Another lie. But this one is easier because my men did torch the building. Whatever Antonio hid in that mansion is ash now, including any evidence that might have led to the ledger.
“Pity.” My father’s expression doesn’t change. “That ledger would have been useful. But Antonio’s death sends a message to the other families regardless. We’re not to be messed with.”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral even though relief floods through me.
“You did well, Dante. This was a clean operation. No witnesses. No evidence. No loose ends.”
If only he knew.
“However.” He crosses his fingers. “I’m hearing rumors that you’re planning something. Building your own operation separate from the family business.”
I meet his gaze steadily. “I am.”
The admission hangs in the air between us. Most men would be terrified to tell their father they’re breaking away. Especially a father like mine. But I’m not most men, and we both know it.
“I’ve served the family for sixteen years. Done every job you’ve asked without question. But I’m done being your enforcer. I’m building my own empire.”
