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"Maybe not," Isabella agrees. "But shouldn't we find out for ourselves? If Felix truly is innocent, killing him will set the mafia families on a path of war for sure. What if we have it in our power to avoid that?”
Her words ring true, and I know she's right. We need to tread carefully, gather information, and make an informed decision before setting off a chain-reaction that cannot be halted.
"Alright," I concede. "We'll collect all the intel we can before making any moves."
"Thank you," she smiles, relief washing over her face.
Our plane touches down in Chicago, and we disembark into the bustling city. As we check into our hotel, I can't help but feel like danger lurks around every corner. I’m probably on high alert because I have Isabella with me. Keeping her safe is more important than any mission on hand and whatever happens, I can't allow her to be in danger. In our room, we freshen up and prepare for the night ahead.
A knock on the hotel room door interrupts our brief moment of respite. I glance at Isabella, who nods in agreement as I make my way to the door. My contact on the ground, a reliable man named Vincenzo, stands before me, clutching a small package wrapped in brown paper.
"Stefano," he says, his voice low and urgent. "I've got what you need."
"Thanks, Vincenzo," I reply, taking the package from him. He leans in closer, his eyes scanning the hallway for any potential eavesdroppers.
"Word on the street is that Felix Carlisi is having dinner at the Plaza Hotel, just a few blocks from here," Vincenzo whispers, his breath hot against my ear.
"Just be careful, Stefano."
With that, Vincenzo disappears down the hallway, leaving Isabella and me to digest this information and come up with a game plan. I unwrap the package, revealing a sleek pistol, fitted with a silencer – a necessity in a mission like this. Isabella watches me with concern as I check the weapon before slipping it into the waistband of my pants, hidden beneath my jacket.
"Let's go," I say, trying to project confidence despite the unease gnawing at my insides.
This is the first time I'm preparing to deliver a kiss of death to a man I can't call guilty for certain.
The streets of Chicago are alive with activity as Isabella and I make our way toward the Plaza Hotel. The city pulses with a vibrant energy that both invigorates and terrifies me. We blend into the crowd, just another couple out for an evening stroll, yet our purpose is far more sinister.
"Stefano," Isabella murmurs, her hand gripping my arm as we approach the hotel. "Remember what we talked about – listen to Felix first."
"I know," I reply, my gut twisting with anxiety. "I won't do anything rash."
As we round a corner, I spot them – Felix Carlisi and to my shock, Rosalie Battaglia, standing together on the sidewalk, their laughter filling the air. But it's the child between them, a young girl with a striking resemblance to both Felix and Rosalie, that truly catches me off guard.
"Look," I whisper to Isabella, gesturing toward the trio. Her eyes widen in shock, mirroring my own feelings.
"Is that...?" she begins, but I cut her off.
"Seems so."
We watch as the child tugs on Felix's sleeve, her voice full of excitement. "Daddy, can you lift me up?"
"Of course, princess," he replies, his voice warm and tender as he hoists the girl into the air, eliciting peals of laughter from her and a smile from Rosalie.
"Stefano," Isabella says softly, her face reflecting lingering pain. "What are we going to do now? He's with his daughter ... he has a daughter."
I stare at the scene before me, my heart heavy with the weight of our mission. How can I kill a man in front of his daughter? And with Rosalie by his side, there must be more to this story than we know.
"Let's wait," I decide, my voice barely audible above the noise of the city. "We need to find out more before we act."
"Agreed," Isabella whispers, squeezing my hand for support. Together, we stand in the shadows, watching and waiting for our chance to uncover the truth.
The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets of Chicago. I can't shake the image of Felix with his daughter, laughing in the fading light. It gnaws at me, urging me to dig deeper before pulling the trigger.
I never even knew he had a daughter.
"Stefano," Isabella murmurs, her breath warm against my ear. "There's that woman he was with. She's alone."
"Rosalie," I whisper.
