Chapter 44 STEPHANO
The next day…
The conference room at Zanello Tower feels different.
Not because of a change in furnishings—Raf kept everything exactly as it was, like he wanted Edoardo’s ghost to sit here and watch what real leadership looks like—but because the air itself is charged.
Sharper. Cleaner. More dangerous, yes, but in a purposeful way.
For the first time in a long time, La Famiglia feels… aligned. Not perfect. But pointed in the right direction.
Raf sits at the head of the table, unapologetically comfortable in the seat Edoardo abused for years. The weight suits him. He looks like a man born for the throne, even if he never intended to take it.
Enrico sits to his right, next to Fabrizio. Marcello to his left. Toni across. And me, with Oksana beside me.
A first.
A woman at this table.
And not a single man has objected.
Not after what she did.
Not after she saved their wives.
No one even blinks when she pulls out her laptop and starts connecting to Raf’s encrypted network, legs crossed, unbothered, sharp as a blade.
Good.
She belongs here more than half the men who ever sat at this table before her. And yet… I know what this means. Grigori will test her loyalty. He’d be a fool not to, and he’s the furthest thing from a fool. He’ll want to know if his sister serves him or me first.
And Oksana?
She’ll meet that test head-on. She’ll carve her own answer out of whoever he sends. But I’d be lying if I said the thought doesn’t sit in my chest like a cold stone.
The wedding will come soon, Russians and Italians under one roof. Vodka and wine. Tradition and chaos. Old grudges and new alliances.
God help us. God help them even more.
Raf clears his throat, and the room falls silent. "Gentlemen. And Oksana," he adds, with a faint smile he doesn’t bother hiding. "Welcome to the first official council meeting of the new regime."
Marcello chuckles. "Regime. Sounds dramatic."
"You have met me, sì?" Raf deadpans.
The room relaxes a fraction.
He looks around the table. "Before we get into restructuring, a note. Fabrizio has formally retired and put Enrico in charge of the Sartori interests."
There’s no shock. Everyone nods. Enrico squeezes his father’s shoulder, pride and sadness mixing on his face.
"And," Raf continues, "Oksana Arsenyev-Conti joins us officially as head of cyber operations and covert intelligence."
No murmurs.
No side-eyes.
Nothing.
Just agreement.
Toni lifts his glass. "To the woman who stopped my house from becoming a battlefield."
Enrico elbows him. "Your house was a battlefield."
Toni winces. "Exactly."
Oksana only smirks. "It was fun."
Fun! Christ. Only she would describe a home invasion like that.
Raf taps the table. "Onto business. We all agree La Famiglia needs a new direction. The old ways have served their time."
He looks at Marcello, who leans forward. "I’ll continue running pharma. But it’s time we expand. I’m starting a legitimate pharmaceutical company. Research, patents, contracts. Clean money. Big money."
"And the other side?" I ask.
A cold smile curls his lips. "Extortion stays. It's tradition."
Enrico snorts. "Of course it does."
Raf gestures toward Toni. "Toni remains head of his helicopter company and money laundering. He’ll add real estate expansion. Violet will support the development side."
Marcello mutters, "God help the contractors."
Toni flicks him off.
"Now arms," Raf continues.
Enrico sits straighter. "I keep it. Gambling stays with me, too. We’ll expand into the suburbs. Bored housewives spend big."
"Just don’t sell them any guns," I chuckle.
"Loan sharking?" Marcello asks.
"Gone," Raf says flatly. "We don’t need nickel-and-dime bullshit."
"And the brothels," Toni adds.
"Gone," Raf confirms. "The Russians can have prostitution and the last of the drug corridors. Consider it a diplomatic offering to Grigori."
I can feel the tension ripple at that name. Grigori Arsenyev. My brother-in-law. My uneasy ally.
A man who smiles like a shark and carries grudges like saints carry crosses. We’re giving him full control of entire markets to keep him appeased. And to soften the blow of losing Oksana.
He’ll take it.
But the fact remains: As long as Alexei Voronin is alive, nothing between our families is fully stable.
The map of power between us lies on shifting sand until the heir is dealt with.
Grigori needs to find and eliminate him, one way or another.
The ball is in Nico's court. Whichever path he chooses, Alexei or Nico. We'll be ready.
Raf continues, "We keep cooperation open through the security firm he and Toni are developing."
Oksana nods approvingly. "He’ll accept that."
The men exchange looks. We're literally negotiating a Bratva king down from going full medieval because he lost his sister to an Italian.
And somehow… this is normal.
Raf turns his gaze to me. "Stephano. Cybercrime?"
"Mine," I say. "Fraud dies. The Russians get the scraps. Oksana and I handle security, intel, digital infiltration… everything your Umbra Arcana started."
That earns me the smallest smirk from him. He inclines his head. "Perfect."
The table absorbs the words. The weight. The shift. For the first time in decades, we’re not fighting the future. We’re designing it.
From Oksana’s screen, I catch a glimpse of something familiar, the login architecture from Cappella del Corvo. The hymn system we killed. The Cells we eradicated. All of them gone. At least from La Famiglia.
Grigori has his own purge ahead.
And Camilla is still digging through Donna Margarita’s things. God only knows what else she’ll uncover. That woman was a black hole of secrets, lies, and vendettas. If Camilla finds anything else tied to Venezuela… or Viktor… or Alexei…
We’re not done.
Not even close.
And the wives… I hide my smile when I think of their committee.
Their investigation board, their secret meetings, but most of all: their terrifying efficiency.
I don’t envy the men whose wives blindsided them.
But I respect the hell out of the women for what they did. Oksana is part of that circle now, too.
Which means they’re going to be even more dangerous. They've even invited Grigori's and Massimo's wives to join them.
Raf steeples his hands. "Then it’s settled. La Famiglia becomes smarter, more powerful. We trade vice for leverage. Blood for influence. Chaos for strategy."
Marcello raises a brow. "And violence?"
"Oh," Raf says mildly, "violence stays."
Toni laughs. Enrico shakes his head. Marcello grins. Oksana looks proud.
And me?
I sit back, watching them—this new table, this new era—and something unfamiliar settles in my chest.
Hope.
Raf lifts his glass. "To the future of La Famiglia."
We echo him.
Glasses clink.
Old shadows fade.
And a new empire begins. Until I notice Oksana blanching. Nobody but me would have seen it. But it's there. Her mouth forms the words: We need to talk. And cold dread runs through me.