Chapter 21
Vercetti Estate. Inner Chamber. 12:14 AM.
The air inside the estate had shifted.
Tension bled into silence.
Even the guards weren't breathing loud anymore.
Marco stared me down.
Still furious.
Still skeptical.
But now?
Now he was listening.
I took one step closer to his throne.
Didn't bow.
Didn't smile.
Just let my voice stay calm.
Even.
Orphan.
"I know you hate me. I know I'm not worth your time. I know I'm just a scholarship nerd in your daughter's shadow—"
Valentina made a high-pitched noise behind me.
She was going to combust.
I ignored her.
"But I also know how your empire works."
He didn't respond.
I took another step.
"You want power. Real power. Not just underground territory. Not just regional fear.
You want the title. The crown. The one word you've chased for two decades."
I looked him dead in the eye.
"Capo dei Capi."
His jaw clenched.
His eyes didn't blink.
"You want to rule all of them. But they won't let you.
Because you're too aggressive.
Too blunt.
Too predictable."
Silence.
Until—
"Go on."
I nodded.
"My offer is this: call the capo from Italy back here. The real one. The big one.
Let me speak to him. Let me act like I've been working for you from the beginning.
I can make you look like a strategist. Like a kingmaker. Like the future."
His mouth opened.
Closed.
He was thinking.
He didn't want to want it—
but he couldn't resist the words.
"You?" he said slowly. "You think you can convince him?"
"I have basic education," I said flatly.
"And enough knowledge to make you look like a genius."
I stared through him.
"You've been chasing the throne for years.
I can walk you to it in one call."
He stood.
Tension cracked across his shoulders.
"...Five minutes."
I nodded. "I'll go practice."
I turned.
Started walking toward the side hallway.
Valentina IMMEDIATELY spun and started trailing me like a puppy with a bazooka.
"JUST IN CASE," she shouted to her father.
Marco waved her off, already dialing numbers on his private line.
Vercetti Estate. Guest Wing Room. 12:17 AM.
I closed the door behind us.
The room was dim. Velvet curtains. Gold wallpaper. A fireplace that hadn't been lit in years.
I stood still for a second.
Thinking.
Running the angles. The expressions. The tone I'd need.
Convincing the capo I was a loyal soldier when I was planning to destroy his entire bloodline.
I was focused.
Until—
"I'm gonna climb you like a tree."
I turned.
Valentina stood behind me.
Arms crossed.
Eyes wide.
Voice shaking.
"I held it in for the last ten minutes. I was so strong. But now I'm in a room with you and you just offered to make my dad capo and I am unwell."
I blinked.
"Valentina—"
"You told him you have basic education and confidence.
Emily.
That's the sexiest thing I've ever heard."
I sighed. Sat on the edge of the couch.
She lunged.
Sat beside me like a disaster in progress.
"I watched you stare down my dad like he was your assistant.
I watched you say the words 'call the capo from Italy' like you were ordering takeout.
I need you to act one more thing."
I turned to her.
"What?"
She leaned closer.
"Act like you're not turning me into soup with every word that comes out of your mouth."
I smacked my forehead.
"Valentina. I have to practice a performance that convinces the literal Mafia Pope I'm his prodigy."
She grinned.
"And I have to practice not moaning when you say the word 'capo.' We all have our burdens."
I stood and walked to the mirror.
Breathed in.
Rolled my shoulders.
Valentina behind me?
Already texting Selene.
Valentina:
SHE SAID "CAPO DEI CAPI"
SHE SAID SHE'S GONNA MAKE MY DAD A KING
SHE'S IN FRONT OF A MIRROR
I AM ABOUT TO MELT INTO THE WALL
Selene:
I AM BARKING
I AM SCRATCHING AT DRYWALL
TELL HER TO SPIT IN MY MOUTH AGAIN
PLEASE
FOR ALL OF US
I stared at myself in the mirror.
My reflection?
Still Emily Stonebrook.
Still orphan.
Still nothing.
But five minutes from now?
I'd become the reason Marco Vercetti would finally believe he was untouchable.
And the reason he'd lose everything.
Vercetti Estate. East Chamber – Private Call Room. 12:28 AM.
[Secure Line Established | Encrypted Uplink Active]
The chandelier lights dimmed automatically.
The guards outside shut the door behind me.
Marco sat next to me, chest puffed, fake humility dripping from every molecule.
He believed this was his moment.
The call that would crown him.
The screen flickered to life.
A shadowed figure leaned into view—older man, sharp jaw, cruel smile, eyes like obsidian.
Il Capo dei Capi.
The man above all others.
He saw us.
His eyebrow twitched.
Il Capo (in Italian):
"E questa... chi è?"
[And this... who is she?]
Marco gestured toward me like I was a PowerPoint presentation.
Marco (in Italian):
"La mia risorsa segreta. Molto intelligente. Fidata. Una risorsa sottovalutata."
[My secret weapon. Very smart. Loyal. An underrated asset.]
The Capo tilted his head.
Il Capo (in Italian):
"Parla."
[Speak.]
I stood.
Heart calm.
Voice even.
ME (in Italian):
"Marco Vercetti ha costruito un impero silenzioso.
Invisibile ma potente. I suoi metodi non sono delicati, ma sono efficaci.
Ha paura della debolezza, e questa paura lo rende pericoloso.
"
[Marco Vercetti has built a quiet empire.
Invisible but powerful. His methods are not delicate, but they are effective.
He fears weakness, and that fear makes him dangerous. ]
I met the Capo's gaze through the screen.
Then, with the subtlest breath—
I blinked.
Twice. Slowly.
The signal.
He stared.
Then leaned forward, voice low.
Il Capo (in Italian):
"Scrivi le tue ragioni. Una lista. Mostramela."
[Write your reasons. A list. Show me.]
Il Capo (in Italian):
"E tu... Marco. Tutti fuori. Questa parte è solo per lei."
[And you... Marco. Everyone out. This part is for her alone.]
Marco blinked.
"Capo, con rispetto—"
Il Capo (in Italian):
"FUORI!"
[OUT!]
Marco jumped.
So did the guards.
Everyone cleared the room.
The moment the door clicked, I reached into my sleeve.
Pulled out my Anna Maricella Secure Burner—the one with anti-tracking encryption.
Opened the notes app.
I wrote:
Reasons Marco Vercetti Would Make A Good Capo:
Brutal.
Ambitious.
Loud enough to attract attention.
Stupid enough to be used.
Too egotistical to notice a noose being tightened around his neck.
Below that—
I angled the phone toward the screen.
Il Capo read it.
His face didn't change.
But his finger lifted.
And he nodded once.
I tore off the phone number section.
Folded it.
Slipped it into my hoodie pocket.
Then highlighted the top half.
Took a deep breath.
I showed the list—just the top portion.
Just enough for him to feel powerful.
The Capo stared at Marco for a long moment.
Then finally spoke.
Il Capo (in Italian):
"Le sue ragioni sono... interessanti. Vedrò."
[Her reasons are... interesting. I will see.]
Il Capo (in Italian):
"Aspettati una chiamata domani mattina. Presto."
[Expect a call tomorrow morning. Early.]
The screen cut.
Just like that.
I closed the burner. Calm.
Looked at Marco.
"Are you happy?"
He smirked.
More than he should have.
"You did well," he said. "Very well."
I nodded once.
And inside?
The plan had begun.
Vercetti Estate. Front Courtyard. 12:55 AM.
The gates opened again.
The same ones I walked through as the orphan.
Now?
I walked out as a storm in disguise.
Valentina trailed behind me, pretending to look unbothered while visibly clenching her thighs.
The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.
Which made sense—because every maid, guard, and distant cousin in the estate was probably in a mop closet replaying my Italian words and going feral.
Marco stood on the steps. Hands behind his back. Face unreadable.
"Stonebrook," he called.
I turned.
"I assume you're headed home."
I shook my head. "Nowhere to go, sir."
He blinked.
I shrugged.
"Scholarship student. My parents are gone.
I was planning to sleep on a bench outside the train station."
His eyes narrowed. Valentina looked like she was about to cry and jump me at the same time.
Marco exhaled through his nose.
"Rest well then. We'll speak in the morning."
I nodded.
He turned away, muttering something in Italian about "useful rats and unexpected weapons."
Valentina?
Didn't say a word.
Just smiled innocently.
Which should've been a red flag.
Maricella Penthouse. Emily's Bedroom. 1:32 AM.
The lights were dim.
Laptop screen was off.
I opened the door quietly, hoodie still up.
Then stopped.
Tiny arms.
Crossed.
Tiny face.
Unblinking.
Tiny 4'10 hacker.
Standing in the middle of my room like she was the CIA, the IRS, and the God of Ferality combined.
"...Selene?"
She didn't say anything.
Just hit play on her phone.
My voice. Speaking Italian. Echoing through the room like sin.
Selene's eyes didn't blink.
"I haven't eaten anything in 8 hours," I tried, holding my hands up like peace was possible.
"Eat now, cuddle later?"
Wrong answer.
She stormed toward me—fists balled.
"You haven't eaten in 8 HOURS?!"
I froze.
"I was infiltrating the Vercetti empire—"
"EIGHT HOURS?? WITHOUT FOOD?? WHILE SPEAKING ITALIAN AND MAKING HALF THE CONTINENT PREGNANT??"
I blinked. "Selene—"
"YOU MADE MY SCREEN SWEAT.
YOU MADE THE MAIDS WET.
YOU MADE ME DOWNLOAD DUOLINGO."
She smacked my stomach.
I flinched.
"That's not going to help digestion—"
She pointed at my bed.
"Sit. Now."
I sat.
She stormed out.
She handed it to me.
"Eat."
I opened the sandwich, chewed slowly.
Her arms crossed again.
Watching.
Breathing heavy.
"You really liked the Italian?" I mumbled with my mouth full.
She walked over.
Crawled onto the bed.
Sat in my lap.
And whispered into my ear:
"If you don't marry me I'm gonna hack your face into every Vatican security camera and make them think you're the second coming."
I choked.
Swallowed. Barely.
"Cuddle now?"
She nodded.
"But next time you go eight hours without eating," she whispered, cuddling in,
"I'm stealing one of your hoodies and selling it to Bella's mom."
Fair.
I held her close.
And we fell asleep.
Full.
Feral.
Safe.
Maricella Penthouse. Emily's Bedroom. 6:47 AM.
Sunlight touched the edges of the curtains.
One arm was numb under the weight of a 4'10 chaos gremlin who'd glued herself to my ribs sometime during the night.
Her hair tickled my collarbone. Her breath was warm against my chest.
My hoodie was half unzipped.
My soul? Probably half-stolen by this tiny hacker.
Then—
Secure Line Incoming: "CLASSIFIED - ITA NODE"
Encryption Match: Capo dei Capi.
My eyes snapped open.
I tapped the burner.
Screen blinked once.
The Capo appeared.
Shadowed office. Gold-rimmed glasses.
No words at first.
Then—
His voice.
Il Capo (in Italian):
?Buongiorno. Pensavo che fosse il momento giusto per una conversazione più... onesta.?
[Good morning. I thought it was the right time for a more honest conversation.]
I sat up slightly.
Selene grunted in protest. Didn't move.
Her arm tightened around my waist.
Me (in Italian):
?Sto facendo credere a Marco che sta ottenendo il potere.
Nel frattempo...
il suo impero cade.
Pezzo per pezzo.?
[I'm letting Marco believe he's gaining power.
Meanwhile...
his empire is falling.
Piece by piece.]
The Capo didn't speak for a moment.
Then: a low, satisfied exhale.
Il Capo (in Italian):
?Già mi piaci.?
[I like you already.]
Suddenly—
Selene (fully asleep):
"Mmhmm—SHE'S MINE—"
I glanced down.
Selene was still dead asleep.
But growling softly.
Face squished into my chest like a kitten protecting its milk.
"I heard that," I whispered, petting her head.
She purred.
Didn't move.
Stayed wrapped around me like a blanket with abandonment issues.
I looked back up.
"I'm handling this alone."
The Capo tilted his head.
Il Capo (in Italian):
?No.
Non ora.
Ti aiuterò.
Personalmente.?
[No.
Not anymore.
I'll help you.
Personally.]
My jaw tightened.
I started to object.
He raised a hand.
Il Capo (in Italian):
?Ti prego. Solo questa volta. Per Marco.?
[Please. Just this once. For Marco.]
I paused.
"...Fine."
He nodded slowly.
Il Capo (in Italian):
?Quanti anni hai, bambina di ghiaccio??
[How old are you, ice child?]
I blinked.
"Sedici. Diciassette fra due giorni."
[Sixteen. Seventeen in two days.]
Selene's body jolted.
Like a tiny spirit hit with a lightning bolt.
She sat upright—hair in all directions.
Eyes wide.
Voice frantic:
"I FORGOT?!?"
I blinked.
"You okay?"
"NO I'M NOT OKAY I FORGOT YOUR BIRTHDAY. TWO DAYS?!"
"Selene—"
"I HAVEN'T WRAPPED A SINGLE THING.
I DIDN'T PLAN A GIFT.
I DIDN'T EVEN SET A REMINDER.
WHAT KIND OF CUDDLY ANGELIC PRINCESS AM I IF I—"
"Selene—"
"I HAVEN'T EVEN DRAWN YOU A PICTURE IN MS PAINT."
The Capo stared.
I muted the call.
Selene was full meltdown now. Standing on the bed like it was her stage.
"EVERYONE IS GOING TO THROW AMAZING PARTIES AND I'LL JUST BE THE FORGETFUL EMOTIONAL TABLE THAT DIDN'T EVEN MAKE PANCAKES."
I stood up. Grabbed her by the waist mid-rant.
Buried her against my chest like a human hug blanket.
"You didn't forget," I whispered.
"You just postponed the chaos."
"But—"
"You're still my princess."
She whimpered.
"And I'll let you panic after I finish toppling a mafia empire."
She nodded.
Still clinging.
"Okay... but when I'm done panicking, I'm gonna smother you in cake, affection, and soft things."
"Perfect."
I unmuted the call.
The Capo blinked once.
Then nodded again.
Il Capo (in Italian):
?Se sopravvivi a Marco,
farò il brindisi io stesso al tuo diciassettesimo.?
[If you survive Marco,
I'll toast your seventeenth myself.]
"Deal," I said.