Chapter 7 - THE WEDDING RING
We didn't take my jet. It was too easy to track.
We took a stolen minivan across state lines, driving through the pitch-black night toward New York.
Sofia sat in the passenger seat. The four boys—Mateo, Leo, Luca, and Enzo—were asleep in the back, exhausted from the trauma. Elena sat with them, gently stroking their hair.
The silence between Sofia and me was heavy, filled with five years of unsaid words.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into the dark, watching the highway lines blur past. "I should have trusted you. I should have asked you about that night."
"You did what a mother had to do," I said, keeping my eyes on the road. "You protected them."
"I stole them from you."
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. "We both lost five years, Sofia. But I swear on my life, I will not lose another day. When this is over, when Massimo is dealt with, we are going to be a family."
She looked at me, a glimmer of hope breaking through her exhaustion.
"Can you really stop him? Massimo controls the entire East Coast."
"I don't need to control the coast," I said. "I just need to cut off the head."
We arrived in Staten Island just before dawn.
I left Sofia, Elena, and the boys at a secure, off-the-books motel owned by an old friend who owed me his life.
"Lock the door," I told Sofia, handing her a spare pistol. "If anyone but me knocks, shoot through the wood."
I drove to Massimo’s compound.
I knew the security layout. I had helped design it when I was twenty-two, eager to please the uncle who had taken me in after my father died.
I didn't sneak in. I drove the minivan straight through the wrought-iron front gates, the crash triggering alarms across the sprawling estate.
I stepped out into the crisp morning air, holding a customized AR-15.
Guards poured out of the mansion.
But they didn't shoot.
They recognized me. I was a Boss. Under the rules of the Commission, killing a Boss without a sanctioned vote was a death sentence for everyone involved.
They parted like the Red Sea as I walked up the marble steps and kicked open the mahogany front doors.
Massimo was sitting in his dining room, sipping espresso.
He was a man in his seventies, with stark white hair and a sharp, cruel face.
He didn't look surprised to see me.
"Alejandro," he said, calmly setting his cup down. "I heard there was a disturbance in Chicago last night. Dante is dead, I assume?"
"Dante ran like a coward," I said, keeping my rifle leveled at his chest. "But I know everything, Massimo. I have the ledgers. I know you ordered the hit on my family. I know you wanted my sons."
Massimo sighed, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin.
"You were always too soft, Alejandro. Your father was the same. A Boss cannot have a heart. It makes you weak. Those boys need to be raised by someone who understands power. Not a man who buys his wife flowers and worries about her feelings."
"You are a monster," I growled, stepping closer.
Massimo smiled thinly. "Perhaps. But I am a monster who values tradition."
He reached into his tailored vest pocket.
My finger tightened on the trigger, but he moved slowly, pulling out a small object and tossing it onto the table.
It rolled and caught the morning light.
A gold band.
Sofia’s wedding ring.
The one she was wearing the day she 'died'.
"Marcus gave you a good story, didn't he?" Massimo chuckled. "Told you he faked the crash to save her from me?"
Answer one: Marcus gave the ring to Massimo to prove Sofia was dead.
But Open Two: Why did Massimo look so smug?
"It doesn't matter," I said. "Sofia is alive. The boys are safe. You lose."
Massimo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
"Oh, Alejandro. You poor, blind fool. Did you ever ask yourself why Sofia's car crashed in the first place? Did you ever ask how I knew she was pregnant before you did?"
May you like
The room seemed to tilt.
"Ask Elena," Massimo whispered, his eyes gleaming with pure malice. "Ask the loyal housekeeper who was driving the car that night. Ask her who cut the brake lines."
