Chapter 3
“ O kay, what the hell is going on here?” I demand, looking at all three of them.
Jax, as usual, tries to calm me down like I’m some kind of child throwing a tantrum. “Hey, hey. Take a seat, Dels,” he says, his voice all too composed. But it’s the solemn look on Enzo’s face that catches my attention.
Luca is holding an envelope, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to end with me getting a fat stack of cash and a “Sorry for your awkward morning” note. Nope, this looks way too formal.
“Sit down, baby,” Jax presses again, his tenor a little softer now, and I know this is serious.
But something in that tone, those gentle words, pulls at the pain in my heart that I’ve worked so hard to wall off. “Don’t call me that,” I say quietly, barely above a whisper and a flinch registers across his face.
I glance from Luca to Enzo, the two of them silent as they exchange some unspoken conversation that tells me everyone in the room knows what’s in the envelope except me. Fine. I’ll bite.
Taking the envelope from Enzo makes my stomach churn with anxiety.
Luca slouches in the chair, eyes locked on the paper, while Jax watches me like I’m an animal about to spook and run off.
I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.
Looking at the thick paper, the first thing I see is the large, audacious “C” for Caputo, and I know it’s from my father. My estranged father.
I’m just about to crumple it and tell them I’m not interested in anything that man has to say when I catch the first line of the letter:
If you are reading this, I’m dead, and you are now a very wealthy woman.
What the fuck?
My heart thuds painfully in my chest, and for a split second, I want to throw this damn letter in the trash and pretend I never saw it.
But I can’t.
Instead, my fingers curl around the edge of the envelope as I read the rest.
A very wealthy woman who is in very grave danger.
The letter continues, but all I can focus on is the fact that my father is dead—and that he wrote a pre-planned letter to cover the scenario. Who lives a life like that? I wonder as I look around the kitchen like the answer is here somewhere.
“Keep reading,” Luca mutters. His voice is almost too calm, like he’s already expecting me to freak out.
He can’t know me that well. We spent a few months together in college before I gave him my virginity. The next night, my father introduced me to stepmom #5 and my new stepbrother: Luca. The man who spent the night before fucking me into oblivion. He looked horrified, like I’d just grown a second head made entirely out of dicks.
Until today, I hadn’t seen him since. Not a picture, not a mention.
Not that I looked.
You are now the heir to the Caputo family. Your life will change dramatically, and there is no going back. This empire is yours.
I sit there, dumbfounded. The words blur as my brain tries to wrap itself around what I’m reading, and I realize my hands are trembling.
The next line hits me like a freight train:
I have kept you in the dark about this life for a reason. You will soon learn why. Be careful. There are people, very close to you, who would do anything to see this empire fall.
Trust no one.
“Trust no one?” I blink, feeling like the floor has just dropped out from under me. “This is some sick joke, right?” My mind spins as my eyes rush over the letter, skipping words and going back to reread the same sentence three times. It still doesn’t make sense.
“What empire?” I demand, my voice pitched high as reality begins to sink in.
I look to each of my exes, desperate for an answer, but all I see is sympathy on their faces. Every one of them is staring at me like I’m some poor, lost kitten about to get eaten alive.
Except Luca. He’s staring down at the table like he’s made of stone.
“The Caputo Family Mafia,” Enzo says, completely unfazed by my growing panic, as if he’s explaining tomorrow’s weather forecast.
I almost laugh, but it comes out more like a sob. “Oh, thanks for explaining that perfectly,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “My father was a crime lord? And I’m... what? Expected to drop everything and go run it?”
I laugh again, but it’s shaky and forced. The weight of what I’m hearing crushes me like lead on my chest. “Well, I have no plans to take the throne as some sort of mafia queen, so you three can fuck off.” My tone is surprisingly even, but the words feel hollow, like I’m drowning under the weight of this new reality.
The worst part? I have no idea what to do with any of it.
My father was a business mogul who was never around. He shoved me off to be cared for by our staff, never coming to anything important in my life—birthdays, graduations—nothing. As soon as I could get away, I did.
He left me nothing but a legacy of silence and absence long before he died—and now he’s left me this. A criminal empire. One I didn’t even know existed. One I’m now supposed to lead.
“You’re going to have to,” Enzo says flatly, his serious tone snapping me out of my spiral. “You have six days to get to Chicago for the presentation of the will. It’s imperative you attend, Delaney. This isn’t just a formality—it’s a matter of life or death.”
I’m still in shock. “I don’t want any part of this. I’m not going.” I stand abruptly, ready to storm off. “This is insane, and you… you guys… why are you even here? You can’t make me do this.”
“Delaney,” Jax says softly, his voice unusually gentle. “You don’t have a choice.”
I turn on him, ready to argue, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “What the hell do you want from me? You’ve all been out of my life for years, and now you’re telling me I’m some damn mafia queen? And how are you all involved in this? Why are you the ones telling me?” I point between them. “Explain that. I deserve that much at least.”
Jax hesitates, clearly weighing his words. Luca remains silent, stone-like, but Enzo speaks with calm authority.
“We’re here because we’re all connected to mafia families,” he says simply. “You know my enterprise. It’s a legitimate business, but it hides my family’s other work .” He stresses the word. “Luca’s family has been mafia associates for years. Jax, too. We work together now.”
I glare at the chair Jax pulls out for me, but I sit anyway, my legs too shaky to stand.
“Your father was the most powerful man in the country,” Enzo continues. “The Capo dei Capi—boss of all bosses. Now that he’s gone, a war has begun.”
“The most powerful man in the country.” The words feel foreign as I repeat them, like I’m speaking someone else’s language. “What do you mean… a war?”
Luca finally speaks, his voice low but intense. “Every family in the country is after the power your father left behind. But they can’t take it unless you’re out of the picture. And that’s why you have to claim it—or someone else will. By force, if necessary.”
I’m about to start laying into them—yell, demand answers, anything—when the sound of a floral delivery van pulling into my driveway derails me.
Seriously? Flowers? Now?
The white van creeps up the U-shaped drive, parking in the middle. A man in an all-brown uniform steps out, retrieving a large bouquet of flowers from the back. The sudden tension in the room feels like a punch to the chest. All three of them stiffen. Their eyes snap to the delivery guy like he’s holding a ticking bomb instead of a bouquet.
“What the hell is wrong with you guys?” I roll my eyes, exhausted by the absurdity of the morning. “It’s just flowers. People get them all the time. Not that any of you ever got me flowers,” I add, giving Jax a pointed look. “Mike did, though.”
“Mark,” Luca corrects, as if it matters.
I glare at him. “Don’t you have a Walmart to raid or something? I hear there’s a sale in the keyboard aisle. You should go.”
He shrugs, completely unbothered.
I scoff. “Ridiculous. No one has ever died from a floral delivery before.”
“Delaney, stop,” Enzo whisper-yells like a total psychopath as I open the door before the guy can even ring the bell.
It’s just flowers. Right? How bad could it be?
I mean, they just said my father died so don’t people get flowers during mourning. The fact that no one here knows my real name dawns on me and cold dread creeps down my neck.
I only use my pen name…always. No one from my past knows where I am so… who would know to send me flowers?
The delivery guy looks up from the bouquet, smiling politely as delivery people often do. Then, like some twisted magician, he pulls a gun from the middle of the arrangement.
For a split second, my brain freezes. Is he really holding a gun? In the flowers?
Before I can fully process the situation, Enzo barrels into me like a freight train. He shoves me out of the way so hard I stumble back into the wall, pain shooting through my shoulder.
“Enzo!” I start to snap, but he pins me to the wall with his body, shielding me.
Jax moves faster than I thought humanly possible. He pulls a gun—God knows where he was hiding it—and shoots the delivery guy square between the eyes just as I push Enzo off me.
I stand there, stunned, my mouth hanging open. The hole in the center of the man’s forehead smokes slightly, and I can’t take my eyes off it. Bright red blood trickles down his face as his body crumples to the ground like a rag doll. The bouquet scatters across the porch, mixing with the dark pool of blood spreading beneath him.
The world around me feels muffled, like I’m underwater. My ears are ringing, my heart is racing, and my legs feel like jelly.
Enzo, Jax, and Luca, on the other hand, are eerily calm. Enzo closes the door with a deliberate click, as if there isn’t a fresh corpse lying on my front stoop.
“What the fuck just happened?” I finally manage to whisper, my voice shaking.
Enzo grips my arm with more force than necessary, his expression grim. “We’re leaving. Now.” That commanding tone is what slaps me back.
“Like hell we are,” I snap, jerking out of his grasp and storming toward the stairs.
I make it halfway up the stairs before Jax’s voice cuts through. “Delaney.”
I pause, turning to glare at him. “What?”
His smile is gone. For once, there’s no humor in his tone. “You need to start taking this seriously. That wasn’t just a warning. That was an attempt on your life.”
“Oh, really? Thank you, Sherlock,” I snap, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me just pack a bag so I can move into your fortress of testosterone.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Luca’s voice cuts through like a blade, cold and sharp. “We’re leaving now.”
“Like hell we are,” I retort, continuing up the stairs. “I’m not going anywhere in my bathrobe, thank you very much.”