Antonio
Draco Moretti summoned me to his home. Why? I have no idea, but unease coils in my gut. I pace inside the suffocating confines of his office. Exhaustion pulls at me—I’ve been putting out nonstop fires, trying to right the ship since Valentino’s death. The last thing I need is trouble with the Moretti family.
The door creaks open, and Draco steps in. “,” he says, a serpent’s smile playing on his lips and his voice smooth as silk yet edged with a sinister undertone. “I trust you’ve been keeping busy.”
“What can I do for you, Draco?” I reply, forcing calm as I sink into the chair opposite him.
He drums his fingers lightly on his desk—a steady, almost maddening rhythm, like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable. “I’m concerned, ,” he begins, his tone deceptively casual. “I haven’t heard from my daughter in over a week. You told me she’s staying with your mother?”
“She is,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “She’s safe.”
Draco’s expression remains unreadable, but his eyes are sharp—razor-like, dissecting every word. “Then why hasn’t she returned my calls?” His voice drops, a threat lurking beneath it. “Alessia knows better than to ignore me.”
I keep my gaze locked on his, unblinking. “I’ll look into it. But I assure you, she’s fine.”
He leans forward, his fingers no longer drumming but resting motionless on the desk. “I’m also concerned about our alliance now that Valentino’s dead.”
“Our alliance is solid,” I reply, feeling the tension coil tighter in my chest. “Valentino’s death changes nothing.”
Draco’s lips curl into a smile, but it’s hollow, lifeless. “I disagree,” he says, his voice a whisper of malice. “Actions, , speak louder than words. If you want to ensure our families remain united, there’s something you must do.” His voice drops further, a shadow of intent, “It would be unfortunate if anything were to disrupt the harmony we’ve worked so hard to maintain.”
A chill runs down my spine. “What are you suggesting?”
“You will marry Alessia,” he says, the words falling like a death sentence.
“Marry Alessia?” I repeat, my disbelief barely restrained.
“Yes,” he replies. “That will prove your desire to remain allied.”
My pulse hammers in my chest, but I keep my expression neutral, the storm of anger held tightly in check. “This isn’t necessary. Our families?—”
“It is necessary,” he interrupts, his tone colder than stone. “Alessia’s my daughter, and I want to ensure her future is secure. If you truly want to keep this alliance intact, you will marry her.”
I clench my hands in my lap, nails biting into my skin. He doesn’t care about Alessia. He never has. This is about power—his power. I force a nod, my voice calm though it feels like poison on my tongue. “I understand.”
“Good,” Draco says, his gaze piercing. “Make it happen, .”
The conversation with Draco ends abruptly, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as I walk out of the Moretti compound. The memory of when Alessia and I were teenagers floods my mind, unbidden. Back then, I wanted nothing more than to marry her. I remember standing in front of my mirror, rehearsing how I’d ask for his blessing. I thought I could make it happen—build a life with her. But Valentino stepped in, his ambition like poison, and everything between Alessia and me was ripped apart.
Now, Draco’s trying to force me into a marriage I once wanted, but I can't stand the thought of being forced into anything—especially this. I grip the steering wheel as I get into the car, my mind swirling. I’m tired, exhausted from the constant battles, and frankly, I don’t want more problems with the Moretti’s.
Marrying Alessia won’t be out of love or desire—only to keep the peace.
The drive to my mother’s house feels longer than usual, each mile stretching out as Draco’s demands echo in my head. I haven’t been home in weeks. I’ve been too consumed with managing the chaos that erupted after taking over as Capo. Most nights, exhaustion drags me down before I even reach my apartment—I end up crashing on the couch in my office at the restaurant.
But I don’t want to wait on this. I need to see Alessia and tell her that this time we’re both trapped.
The house glows softly in the evening light, the warmth of home almost mocking the storm inside me.
As I step through the door, Aunt Domenica greets me. “It’s been too long, Anton,” she says as she embraces me.
“I’ve been busy,” I reply, the guilt settling in alongside my exhaustion. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” she sighs, leading me to the living room. “It’s good that you came tonight. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“That sounds serious.”
Her smile is sad, the creases around her eyes deepening. “My brother in Italy sent me a ticket. He wants me to return home and live with him.”
“You don’t have to go,” I say quickly. “Your place will always be here.”
She shakes her head softly, her eyes searching mine. “It’s time, Anton. Now that you’re Capo, I want you to move into the house I shared with your Uncle Giovanni.”
I blink, surprised by her words. “Into your house?”
“Giovanni and I made many happy memories in that home,” she says, her voice catching as she blinks back tears. “You remind me so much of him, Anton. I know you’ll find someone to love, someone to share your life and home with.”
She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small, worn box. Her hands tremble slightly as she opens it. “This was your grandmother’s wedding ring. Giovanni gave it to me when we married, and now I want you to have it.”
Silence falls between us as I take the ring from the box, its weight far heavier than the gold it’s made of. This isn’t just a ring—it’s a legacy, a promise carried through generations. For a brief moment, I picture it on Alessia’s finger, the life we could’ve had if everything hadn’t been shattered. But now, it feels more like a chain, binding us both to a future we don’t want.
I swallow hard, my throat tight. “I’ll miss you, Aunt Domenica
“And I’ll miss you, Anton,” she replies, cupping my face with hands full of love and loss. “But you have your own path to walk now. Make your uncle proud.”
I nod, barely keeping the flood of emotions at bay as she hugs me one last time. “Now, go see your mother. She’s been waiting.”
I find my mom in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she prepares dinner. When she sees me, her face lights up. “Anton. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, kissing her cheek.
She studies me, her eyes full of concern. “You look exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just a lot going on.”
“You won’t be any good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground,” she says, her voice full of motherly reprimand. “Can you stay for dinner?”
“That would be great,” I reply, glancing around the room, my mind still weighed down by Draco’s demands. “Where’s Alessia? I need to talk to her.”
My mother’s smile fades slowly, confusion clouding her face. “Alessia?” she asks, her voice uncertain. “I thought you arranged for her to leave.”
Her words catch me off guard. “What? No. I didn’t arrange anything.”
“Cecilia told me you and Alessia decided it was best for her to leave Philadelphia. She said Alessia was too emotional to say goodbye.” Mom sets the spoon down carefully, turning fully toward me. “The poor girl’s been through so much, I didn’t think anything of it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Cecilia slipping quietly out of the room. “Excuse me,” I mutter as I follow her upstairs.
“Cecilia,” I say sharply, pushing the door open. “What do you know about this?”
“I’m sorry, ,” she whispers.
“What have you done?”
Tears well up in her eyes. “I helped her get away.”
“Why?”
Her voice trembles. “She felt trapped. Alessia told me how awful her life was, how Valentino abused her.” Her voice cracks. “She was desperate and I just wanted to help her.”
My anger surges, but I force it down, my mind replaying Draco’s demand. I grab the back of my neck, trying to rein it in. “Do you know the amount of problems you created for me?”
Cecilia flinches. “I just wanted to help,” she whispers.
“How long has she been gone?”
She hesitates. “Almost three weeks.”
I curse under my breath. Three weeks. The words hit me like a punch to the gut, a wave of anger rising fast, threatening to spill over. I exhale sharply, trying to get a grip as my mind races. Draco’s already closing in, and now this—everything’s unraveling faster than I can contain.
“Where did she go?” I ask, my voice tight, barely keeping the frustration in check.
“I don’t know,” Cecilia admits, shaking her head, her eyes pleading. “I dropped her off at the bus stop. She promised she’d call when she figured out where she was going, but she never did.”
“Why didn’t you come to me first?”
Cecilia’s eyes fill with tears. “She felt trapped, . She told me how awful her life was growing up. How her father’s demands crushed her. And then when she told me about Valentino and what he did to her.” Her voice cracks, and she wipes her cheeks. “I couldn’t stand to see her like that. Desperate and scared. I just wanted to help her, to give her the freedom she always dreamed of.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I say and take a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me, Cecilia,” I say, my voice softer.
Cecilia nods, though her expression remains troubled. “I’m sorry, . I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“I know,” I reply and place a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll handle it.”
But as I head back downstairs, I can’t shake the feeling that everything is about to get much more complicated. Alessia’s out there alone and if I don’t find her soon, someone else will. And if they do—they won’t. I can’t let that happen.
“I thought you were staying for dinner?” my mother calls as I reach the front door.
“There’s been a change of plans,” I say, already opening the door. “Raincheck?”
“Please be safe, Anton.”
“I will.”
I’m barely out the door before I pull out my phone and dial Dante. He picks up on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“We have a problem,” I grit out, the frustration boiling over. “A huge fucking problem.”