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My mother's response was measured, her voice a testament to the resilience that had sustained us through the years. She recounted a few close calls that had threatened to expose our carefully guarded sanctuary.

Yet, her resourcefulness and the relationships she had cultivated, even during her time with my father, had served as a shield.

My mind circled back to the unsettling memory of Mathias's visit, the underlying threat of his inquiries still lingering in the air. I turned to my mother, my brow furrowed with the weight of my questions.

"Why do you think he came, demanding to know about my father?" I asked, the unease evident in my voice.

My mother's response was tinged with uncertainty, mirroring the bewilderment that had shrouded her during the encounter.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of trepidation. "But the urgency in his tone, the way he spoke... It was as though he was facing problems, and he thought they were because of Riccardo.”

In that poignant moment, I enveloped my mother in a tight embrace, both of us seeking solace in the reassuring presence of the other.

"Thank you for everything," I murmured, my voice conveying my gratitude and a deep-seated appreciation for the sacrifices she had made. "I know it couldn't have been easy, running away with a child."

Her embrace tightened around me, a silent acknowledgment of the struggles and hurdles we had faced together.

"I'm just happy you're safe," she whispered.

My mind raced back to the troubling accounts Emilio had shared regarding the persistent conflicts between the Fiore and Mancini families. I retraced the details my mother had just disclosed, a web of connections and implications knitting themselves together in my mind.

The urgency that had underscored Mathias' inquiries seemed to mirror the very issues that Emilio had highlighted, the continuous onslaughts and hostilities between the two families.

A dawning realization settled over me, the pieces of the intricate puzzle aligning in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. Could it be possible that the persistent attack that Emilio had faced and the escalating tensions were the result of my father's calculated manipulations?

I thought about all the times my father's actions had put Emilio in danger. What if one of Crino's attempts on his life had succeeded? I shuddered at the idea.

How different would my life be right now if that had happened?

Chapter 36

Emilio

Mymindreeledwiththe weight of the revelation. Griselda's father, a Don in the mafia? And to make things more perplexing, the Esposito family was an unfamiliar name in our world. Mafia families were intimately aware of each other, making the existence of an unknown entity a cause for suspicion.

Why was her father at the helm of this obscure family?

Enzo's phone buzzed again, drawing my attention. He swiftly navigated through the message from Lucas, his expression registering yet another discovery.

"It's another finding from Lucas," Enzo announced, sounding intrigued.

"What does it say?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued by the intensity of Enzo's reaction. As he read through the text, a sudden lift of his eyebrows hinted at the staggering nature of the information. "What happened?" I pressed with my anticipation mounting.

Enzo's next words hit me like a thunderbolt. "You wouldn't believe what Lucas just found. Griselda's father's name is Riccardo Esposito, but he was previously known as Riccardo Mancini."

The ground beneath me seemed to shift as disbelief jolted through me.

"Maledetto! (Fucking hell!)” I cursed.

I couldn't believe it. Griselda's father, a member of the rival family? It was like a scene straight out of one of those intense mafia dramas we used to watch for kicks. The sudden switch in surnames raised a million questions in my mind, but before I could even form the words, Enzo was diving into the details on his phone.

"Listen to this," Enzo began, his voice loaded with astonishment. "Riccardo got the boot from the Mancini family, thanks to some supposed betrayal from back in the day."

His eyes flitted back and forth across the screen, deciphering each word as if he were reading a gripping novel.

Another name came into the picture, and it clicked almost instantly. Memories of the relentless clashes between the Fiore and Mancini families collided with faint recollections of conversations between my father and uncle, forming a vivid picture in my mind.

It was like the missing piece of the puzzle had suddenly fallen into place. I shook my head, trying to process the flood of information.

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