Chapter 11 - THE BURDEN OF THE EMPIRE
Matteo stepped into the study, the heavy oak doors closing silently behind him with a soft click that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room.
He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket anymore. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up, revealing the dark ink of the syndicate tattoos wrapped around his forearms. He looked exhausted, dangerous, and completely entirely awake.
I scrambled backward on the floor, clutching the trust document to my chest.
“Mr. Russo,” I stammered, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard I felt dizzy. “I… I was just… the door was open, and I—”
“Stop apologizing, Anna,” Matteo said, his voice surprisingly gentle. He didn’t reach for his gun. He didn’t yell.
He walked slowly across the Persian rug, knelt on the floor beside me, and looked down at the open metal box.
“My father was a paranoid man,” Matteo said softly, staring at the stack of unmailed letters addressed to my mother. “He trusted the men who kissed his ring, but he knew loyalty in our world only lasts until the money runs out. He wanted to go legitimate. He wanted to wash the blood off our family name.”
He looked up, meeting my terrified gaze.
“But you can’t clean dirty money while you’re still holding the gun,” Matteo explained. “If the Commission found out my father was moving hundreds of millions into legal, traceable assets, they would have butchered our entire family. They view legitimacy as a weakness. So, he needed a ghost.”
“My mother,” I whispered, the pieces finally snapping into place.
“Margaret,” Matteo nodded. “She wasn’t just a maid, Anna. She was his ghost. Your father was the only accountant brilliant enough to build the legal shell companies, and your mother was the only person my father trusted implicitly to hold the keys. She was pure. Incorruptible.”
I looked down at the paper in my hands.
Eight hundred million dollars.
“Arthur found out, didn’t he?” I asked, tears of realization burning my eyes. “That’s why my father died. Arthur had him killed in the hit-and-run.”
“Yes,” Matteo said, his jaw tightening with absolute fury. “Arthur found a discrepancy in the books thirty years ago. He realized a massive amount of wealth was being funneled out of the syndicate. He killed your father to try and find the legal deeds.”
I pulled the train ticket from my pocket, my fingers trembling as I showed it to Matteo.
Run before he wakes.
“That’s why this was in the coat,” I sobbed, the image of my hardworking, exhausted mother flashing in my mind. “Your father warned her. He told her to run before Arthur could get to her and me.”
“And she did,” Matteo said, reaching out to gently wipe a tear from my cheek. “She vanished. She took you, changed her last name to Mitchell, and lived in poverty for twenty-six years, scrubbing floors and working double shifts. Not because she had to, Anna. But because if she had spent a single dime of this money, Arthur would have found you.”
The gravity of my mother’s sacrifice crushed me.
She hadn’t been trapped by poverty. She had chosen it. She had sacrificed her comfort, her health, and her entire life to protect me from the mafia.
And then, ironically, to pay for her medical care after the stroke, I had walked right into the lion’s den and taken a job in the Russo mansion.
“Does Evelyn know?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“My mother knows everything,” Matteo said. “When you applied for the job last year, Mom recognized your mother’s maiden name on your background check. She knew who you were. That’s why she insisted on hiring you, despite Scarlett’s objections. She wanted to keep you close. She wanted to protect you until your birthday, when the trust legally transfers to you.”
I looked at Matteo, panic rising in my chest again.
“Matteo… if this document transfers the legitimate empire to me… that means you own nothing. The syndicate is crumbling. Arthur almost bankrupted the illegal side. This eight hundred million is all your family has left.”
I held the paper out to him.
“Take it. Burn it. I don’t want it. It’s Russo money. I just want my mom to be safe.”
Matteo didn’t take the paper.
Instead, he reached out and gently closed my hands over the document, holding my fists against my chest.
“It’s not my money, Anna,” Matteo said fiercely, his dark eyes burning with absolute conviction. “It is the blood price your family paid to save mine. Your father died for this. Your mother suffered for this. I wouldn’t take it from you if the Commission held a gun to my head.”
He stood up, offering me his hand.
“My father wanted this family to go legitimate. But he knew Dominic was weak, and he knew I was too deeply entrenched in the violence to ever be clean.”
I took his hand. He pulled me to my feet, his grip strong and steadying.
“He left the empire to you, Anna,” Matteo said, his voice echoing in the quiet study. “Because you are the only one who can save us. I can protect the streets. But you… you are going to run the boardrooms.”
Before I could even process the magnitude of what he was asking, the heavy oak doors of the study flew open.
Luca, Matteo’s massive, blood-splattered bodyguard, stood in the doorway, chest heaving.
“Boss,” Luca gasped, his eyes wide with panic. “It’s Dominic. The transport van they used to kidnap Evelyn… it wasn’t empty when they ditched it.”
Matteo’s protective stance instantly shifted back into the lethal mafia boss. “What are you talking about, Luca? Dominic is locked in the cellar.”
“He is,” Luca swallowed hard. “But the driver of the van… it was one of Arthur’s hitmen. And he didn’t go to the warehouse with them.”
My blood ran cold as ice.
“Where is he?” Matteo demanded, pulling his pistol.
May you like
Luca looked directly at me, pure terror in his eyes.
“He bypassed the perimeter security, Boss. He’s in the east wing. He’s in Margaret Mitchell’s room.”
