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As the officer’s frustration reached its peak, it was clear that our exchange had come to an impasse. The tension in the room hung heavy like a suffocating fog, obscuring the path forward. But it was a path I would navigate with unwavering determination—for my family, for Liliana, and for the empire that rested on my shoulders.
“Very well,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. How he didn’t have migraines with all the tension he kept in his jaw, I’d never know. “This isn’t over, Romano. We’ll be watching your every move.”
“Good luck with that,” I replied, as I stood up from my chair, knowing that if he had no evidence now, he wouldn’t magically find any weeks from now.
As I left the interrogation room, my mind flickered back to other high-pressure situations I had faced in my relentless rise to power. There was the day I’d stared down the barrel of a gun, held by one of Bianchi’s thugs—only for the man to find himself taken out by my hidden sniper.
My thoughts drifted back to the night my father died and Bianchi didn’t even give us one day to mourn his passing before he attacked. I’d led our soldiers in repelling the attack, fighting off wave after wave of intruders. Blood and sweat mingled on my skin as I fought for every inch of territory, refusing to let him take what was rightfully ours.
I shook off the ghosts of my past. I knew all too well the weight of my family’s expectations; I had been groomed to take on this mantle since my birth. My duty was to protect my family, which included everyone who worked for me, and expand the Romano empire.
I stepped out of the police station, breathing in the cool air as I pulled my coat tighter around me. The interrogation had been weak, but I wasn’t worried. I’d call my lawyer when I got home and he’d make sure they didn’t come to me again without proof.
“Nicholas.” Detective Trefethen called from behind me. I turned to face him, keeping my expression as cold and unreadable as stone. “Don’t think we’re done with you yet.”
“Detective,” I replied, a hint of menace in my voice. “Do what you must; I’ve got nothing to hide.”
He shook his head, walking back into the station without another word. I watched him go, feeling the weight of his gaze on me even after he disappeared inside.
As I walked to my car, my thoughts drifted to Liliana. I thought I was marrying a woman like my mother - someone to be coddled and cherished, and above all to hide the truth from. How wrong I was! My Liliana was an incredible woman, destined to become a true partner. She’d found a pattern of theft in the files I’d given her a month ago that my best accountants hadn’t seen. And when it came to defending our home, she stood side by side with me, not afraid to do what was necessary.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Giovanni Ricci could have asked ten times as much for her.
I slid into the car, started the engine, and eased away from the curb, the purr of the car calming my nerves. It was time to plan the final battle in the war with the Bianchi family.
Chapter 2
Nicholas
Istood at the window of my office, watching the first snow of the year fall. A package lay on my desk, its contents unknown but deemed safe by my men. They had inspected it thoroughly for any threats before they brought it to me, but found nothing. As I walked over to the desk, an uneasy feeling made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Who would send me an anonymous package?” I wondered to myself as I carefully took it out of its protective brown paper wrapping. Inside was a file marked with the name of my mother-in-law Estelle Ricci that was full of photos. A CD was labeled with Estelle’s name as well. The fact that there was no return address only added to my suspicion. I knew that whoever sent this package wanted to remain anonymous, yet they wanted me to have this information. Or misinformation - I’d have to figure that out.
As I spread out the photographs on the desk, my breath caught. There, captured in vivid detail, was the progression of Estelle’s last day alive. My mind raced with questions, trying to piece together the puzzle before me. Was there something the official and unofficial investigations into her death had overlooked, some clue hidden in these images that would finally provide answers for Liliana?
One photograph caught my eye – Estelle sitting in a car with her husband, Giovanni. They seemed to be driving through the busy New York streets, unaware of the tragedy that would soon befall them. I picked up the photo, examining it closely. Estelle was looking out the window, smiling, while Giovanni’s face was stoic, unreadable. Each photo had a time written on the back of it, and I arranged them in chronological order before I turned my attention to the CD.
The CD was full of short video clips of varying quality, but each one showed the same scene – Estelle and Giovanni in their car, driving through the city. I knew that these were the final moments before her death. Some of the videos were from traffic cameras, some from bank cameras and some seemed to be tourist videos with the Ricci car driving past in the background.
The photographs and videos were like pieces of a sinister jigsaw puzzle, each one revealing a fraction of the truth about Estelle’s death. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Giovanni was involved – he had to have been involved, or else he’d have been killed with his wife.
I focused on the car, searching for any clues or potential witnesses. In one video, Estelle was laughing at something Giovanni had said – she did not appear upset or worried, which only fueled my curiosity. Estelle and Giovanni were being driven by a man I didn’t know, but I’m sure Liliana could tell me his name.
“Could it be,” I mused to myself, “that this was truly a random act of violence?” That was rare in our world. We all used bodyguards and random violence was put down quickly.
Giovanni’s stoic expression never seemed to waver in the videos. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, always looking forward. Was he hiding something from his wife? Some expression he didn’t want her to see? I tried to shake the thought from my mind, but it clung like a stubborn stain.
As I studied the videos again, more intently this time, the unease in my chest continued to grow. It was as if the universe was trying to tell me that the answers I sought were right before my eyes. The mafia leader in me knew that nothing was ever simple when it came to the underworld, and the loving husband in me wanted to shield Liliana from whatever pain these secrets might bring.
As I pieced together the timeline of events, my conviction grew stronger. There had to be more to Liliana’s mother’s death than met the eye. We lived in a world where every move had consequences, and someone as cunning as Giovanni wouldn’t make it easy for me to determine what actually happened on that fateful day.
“Ah, there it is,” I said under my breath as I noticed something peculiar in the video. From one video to the next, Giovanni’s expression changed. His face went from stoic to angry and by the end of the last video, he was furious.
Was this the key to finding out what happened? What had they been talking about? I didn’t know the driver, but Liliana could tell me his name. But I didn’t want to show her the videos, not until I knew everything and could give her a clear answer.
With a heavy sigh, I leaned back in my chair – the weight of my responsibility bearing down on me. I needed to dig deeper, unravel the intricate web of secrets surrounding Estelle’s death. But I also knew that I walked a tightrope, and below me lay the abyss that threatened to swallow everything I held dear.
Enzo would have to find who this man was for me. Then I’d question the driver about the conversation and anything else he could remember from that time.
