Chapter 45
I t’s not as odd, pulling up to my old childhood home, as I thought it would be. If you can even call this place a home. It’s a goddamn fortress—let’s not kid ourselves. I always remembered it as stark, cold, and empty. But it looks much different now, coming back after so many years away.
I didn’t sleep much last night, and when dreams finally came to me, they were restless—full of lightning and a little girl staring at her reflection in a large window. I woke up first and snuck out of the massive bed, fashioned so we could all sleep together.
Enzo found me sitting on the wide wooden deck overlooking the lake behind the lodge. He’s always been an early riser—a workaholic. But I suppose you have to be to run a multibillion-dollar empire.
He sat in the deck chair next to me, and I traded my cold chair for his warm lap. His massive frame swallowed me whole, and I felt like I could just nuzzle into his neck and disappear for the next twenty-four hours.
But the peace didn’t last long. We needed to get ready for the reading of my father’s will and still had an hour’s drive to the Chicago estate.
Jax said a quick hello, then checked the grounds to ensure they were clean after last night’s gunfight. Aside from the massive hole and damage inside Luca’s home, you wouldn’t be able to tell anything had happened. The house has been sealed off, and repairs will begin today.
Enzo brought his team to the lodge, equipped with a rack of clothes for me to pick from, a hair and makeup stylist, and fresh suits for themselves. Black on black on black seemed to be the color palette of choice, so I went with a fitted black gown. The draped front dipped low, hugging every curve perfectly. The long slit ran up to my upper thigh, and when I sat, crossing my legs, the dress fell open on either side of my knees, with the rest of the fabric pooling on the floor.
I touched up my deep-red nail polish, and Luca kissed my ankle as he helped me with my heels.
It was a ridiculous show of force as we pulled out of the long driveway from Luca’s farmhouse to the main road. The timing was perfect. An entourage of black SUVs was already racing down the road. Our limo pulled out behind them, and an equal number of SUVs followed us.
Everything about today needed to be a statement, and it started with my arrival at the Caputo estate. We went over the plans again and again last night, and while I felt ready, at the same time… I didn’t.
I grew up next to crime and mafia dealings my whole life and never knew it. My father was terrifying, and so was the company he kept. I was happy being separate from it.
Now, after running away for six years, I’m diving headfirst into a tank of bloodthirsty sharks. Wonderful .
I didn’t remember the entrance from the road being so large, but there’s no mistaking the Caputo “ C ” on the crest of the massive gates. The long driveway winds through a forest first, where the security gates are already open for us.
The trees clear, giving way to manicured lawns, and then I see it—the impressive home.
Tall cypress trees line the driveway and decorate the front of the opulent villa. The line of SUVs turns right, following the circular drive. The limo stops in the center, and the guards spring into action.
Some step out, taking positions on either side of the wide walkway leading up to the front door. Others remain by their vehicles, ever watchful. Several surround the limo, and one opens our door.
Enzo steps out first, adjusting his suit jacket. Luca and Jax exit from the other side while Enzo holds out his hand for me. I know he can feel the tremor in my fingers as he helps me from the car. He gives my hand an extra squeeze and a wink as I step in front of them, walking with my shoulders back and confidence in my stride.
The boys fall in step behind me, and while I want to look around, I know there must be no fewer than a dozen eyes on me as the long-lost Caputo heiress returns to claim her empire.
Luca had drones flying over the property all morning, so we watched from the limo as the heads of mafia families arrived. We practiced names as we watched the drone footage, then switched to the security feed in the house, watching them mingle.
Giovanni "Johnny Boy" Moretti was the first to arrive, and I chuckled, remembering my dance with Mr. Moretti and Eloise’s confessions in the bathroom. He looked absolutely nothing like Mr. Moretti, so anyone with eyes could tell his first wife stepped out on him and had the milkman’s baby.
Domenico "Dom" Ferrara, a strong enforcer of the Italians, and his men are often sent to collect debts from rival families. Raffaele "Ralphie" D'Angelo, a loan shark and extortionist, spent years working closely with my father. Now that my father’s gone, D'Angelo is eager to position himself and his family at the top of Chicago’s underworld.
Antonio "Tony" Vitale is Enzo’s cousin. The Vincenzi and Vitale boys have been long-running partners, known for their involvement in high-end real estate and money laundering operations. If there’s one family I know will be on my side today, it’s theirs. And they’re a force to be reckoned with.
I was especially excited to see Francesca "The Queen" Lazzarini arrive, and she did not disappoint. The first and only female boss, her icy demeanor and strategic brilliance were evident from a mile away. In black heels and a black pinstripe pantsuit jacket worn without a shirt, her buttoned blazer revealed just enough. Her ear-length black hair was styled in loose curls, with one side shaved. Her piercing green eyes scanned the property before she helped her wife out of their vehicle.
Lazzarini is a true story of rags to riches within the Italians, keeping her family under the radar while quietly expanding their influence. Now, she sits at the table with the other family heads—a formidable equal—and it’s impressive.
Other families haven’t survived the weeklong power struggle incited by my father’s death. Some are recovering, licking their wounds and laying low. So, there’s something to be said for those here today. These are the survivors.
After the Italians, the other mobs arrive, save the Sicilians who were wiped out in a mob war about four years before I was born. With the stature of the Caputo name, the heads of gangs attend in person. No representatives or dignitaries would be appropriate to meet the new leader of the Italians.
The Asian mobs and Irish arrive simultaneously. The Polish and Mexican mafias come next, with others filing in succession. The Russian Bratva arrives about five minutes before we do—definitely by design. They’re setting themselves up as rivals or equals. Either way, they’re someone to watch.
My heels click loudly against the concrete path as I pass the line of staff working full-time at the estate. I want to stop and say hello, maybe look for familiar faces, but there will be time for that later. These people work for the mafia—they know how these things go. All of them dip their heads in reverence as I pass, while I pretend this isn’t weird as hell.
Two guards wait just inside and walk ahead of me. Enzo, Jax, and Luca follow behind, with more guards bringing up the rear. I keep my eyes forward while trying to take in the details.
Touches of our Italian heritage are everywhere—in the home’s design and the art that hangs on the walls. It feels warmer now—not at all the drab, chilling place from my memories.
I had dreaded what it would feel like to be here again. I was certain I’d want to level this place and never step foot on these grounds again. But perhaps not.
The reading of the will is set in my father’s wine cellar. It’s vast—like an entirely separate estate underground. There’s an elevator, but descending the wide marble staircase that curves into the cellar is much more dramatic.
And today is all about putting on a show.
Enzo takes my hand as we descend the stairs. I hold my dress with the other hand and take a deep breath as we head into the belly of the beast.