"Phew. Such a coward. What? I just saved you some time."
She tossed the gun aside and walked toward the Don with a seductive grace. Hans stepped in front of her, but Vittorio raised a hand.
"Let her come."
Liz approached him, her steps slow. She took his hand and stroked it gently as if coaxing life back into a wilted flower.
"You see, Don, you're getting old. We all need someone strong, someone reliable. We placed our bets on Angelo, but this idiot ruined everything. The Mexico cartel wants a foothold in Brooklyn. What do you say?"
Angelo shot up from his chair. "What are you talking about, Liz? What cartel?"
Patrick sighed. "Mr. Angelo, surely you did not believe we could duplicate ledger books and go unnoticed. If I am correct, we have been mere pawns in a larger game."
Liz's eyes gleamed. "The ledger's been sent to the Cartel already. My dear Don, why don't we strike a deal?"
Vittorio's gaze hardened. "Have you forgotten? You attempted to kill my daughter."
Liz laughed softly, brushing her hair back. "Oh no. That was simply a test to see if our precious princess could stand on her own. And she passed beautifully. What the Cartel wants is a competent partner, not some delicate little doll. And clearly not a war."
Vittorio stared at her for a long moment. The room felt like it stopped breathing.
"Very well. Tell me what you want."
......
Rose Belladonna stepped out of the car before it even stopped fully. The mansion loomed in front of her.
Hans stood waiting on the steps, back straight, hands clasped, face typical deadpan expression.
"Where is that rat?" Rose asked. "He is not dead, right? I need to kill that fucker myself."
Her fingers brushed the tender split on her lower lip, the exact place where Angelo had bitten hard enough to bleed. The memory made her fume again.
Hans bowed slightly. "Things are complicated, Lady Rose. Please follow me to the dining hall."
Complicated? Rose scoffed and walked past him.
The dining room was warm and peaceful. That alone set her mind on edge. What is going on?
At the head of the table sat her father, Vittorio Belladonna, fingers lightly tapping the armrest. On the left side of the long table sat Angelo, Patrick, and a woman. Before them were plates piled with thick steaks, roasted vegetables, and wine that cost more than just money.
Rose blinked. This was wrong.
Her father should have skinned Angelo alive by now. Should have hung him from the ceiling like a pig in the butcher room. Angelo had humiliated her, tricked her, made a plan to kill her and nearly succeeded.
Rose had expected a scene of begging, tears, desperate apologies.
Instead, she found them being served expensive wine?
Vittorio's calm voice cut through her confusion. "Rose. Come sit here."
She obeyed, still scanning the table, trying to read the room.
"Are you well?" Vittorio asked.
"Yes." Her answer was clipped. Her gaze slid toward Angelo. Contempt flickered her eyes.
Her father noticed the bloodied lip, the scratches on her cheek. His fingers curled once on the table's edge.
"I will allow you to attack Angelo one time. Non fatal. Go ahead."
Angelo went pale. Rose felt a grin rising. Oh here it comes, let's enjoy.
She stood, circled the table, and stopped beside Angelo. He looked up at her with stiff shoulders and tight breathing. She grabbed his face with one hand, raising her right fist for a clean punch.
Then she saw the knife.
Without hesitation, she snatched it from his plate and drove the blade straight through his hand into the table.
The wood cracked. Angelo's breath left in a forced, strangled rush. He bit down on his lip hard enough to bleed but refused to scream.
Rose clicked her tongue. She expected retaliation, anything that might earn her another chance to hit him. But no. Just quiet endurance.
Coward.
She turned to Patrick next. Usually pristine, always polished, but now drenched in sweat. She slapped him hard enough to spin his head sideways. He did not dare react.
Tsk. Do I have to spit on you to get a reaction? Rose thought.
Next was the beautiful woman. Thirty-ish, elegant, scared but not trembling enough for Rose's liking.
"And who are you?" Rose asked. "Not afraid of me? Hmm? Just because you're a woman doesn't mean I won't beat you up."
"I… I am Elizabeth… Lady Rose. I did not know what Mr. A was planning."
"Oh really? Then what are you to our Mr. Rat? His girlfriend?"
"Yes… Lady Rose. I also helped..managed,,,,some of his accounts"
"Ohh." Rose gently caressed Liz's cheek. "Why don't you stay with me tonight? I'm sure Mr. Rat won't mind, right?"
Rose waited for Angelo to react. Nothing. Not even a twitch.
Coward squared. Maybe she should claim this girl for herself.
"Tell me beautiful Elizabeth," Rose came closer to Elizabesth and put one hand on her thigh,"Do you want to experience something new?"
Elizabeth's face turned red, she glanced towards Angelo, who was busy studying the plate in front of him with all his focus.
"Tsk..spineless." Rose wanted to humiliate Angelo more…
Before she could push further, Vittorio said, "Cough….Enough playing. Come here, Rose. I have something to discuss with you."
She clicked her tongue again and returned to his side, sitting down.
Vittorio's gaze sharpened. "You can see Angelo has changed his heart and decided to dedicate his life to the family. He only tried to ki….eliminate you because he believed you would bring the family down with your…strange ways."
Rose stilled. No retort came. She knew it was true. She had enjoyed, indulged, drifted on privilege while others built the Empire. Most people are loyal to her surname, not "her".
Vittorio continued. "So I have decided to give both of you a fair chance. You will each take control of parts of the business. In one year, whoever brings in more money, influence, and power will become the leader of the family."
Rose shot up halfway from her seat. "What? You are giving this rat more control? What guarantees he won't collude with other families or the government?"
Vittorio waved away her anger. "His precious family will go on a vacation to the Hawaii Islands. His sister's health is not good. I will send my men as guards. Right, Angelo?"
Angelo nodded, lifeless and pale.
Vittorio stood up from his chair. "Everything is decided. Hans will tell you which businesses you will manage. Choose trustworthy subordinates this time."
Rose also decided to leave. She glanced one last time at Angelo and his two trembling allies, then left the room to find Hans.
Behind her, silence lingered until Elizabeth finally broke.
She giggled. "Get your hand fixed, darling, and let's go. You still have work to do." She stretched her arms lazily. "Phew. Don Vittorio still has his edge. It almost made me wet myself, purrrr. Come now. Stop looking at me like some lost five-year-olds. I am not your mother."
Angelo clenched his fist and followed behind.
....
Ethan inspected his wounds as Baruch held up a handheld mirror behind him so he could see over his shoulder. The bullet holes that had torn through him hours ago were now nothing more than pale, shrinking scars. Even those were fading away.
"How much time did it take this time?" Mallick asked as he wandered in, chewing on something greyish and wobbling on a plate. He had cooked it himself and looked disturbingly proud of the achievement. He jabbed the fork toward Baruch in a generous offer. Baruch stepped back with a polite refusal and a faint grimace.
"Almost half a day," Ethan muttered. "Your silver formula is losing its effect. My body's adapting."
"Well, I was only following what those books suggested. Maybe silver is not enough to kill you anymore. What about lead? Or mercury?"
"I am not suicidal," Ethan shot back. "Silver is fine for now. We can increase the amount. Let's just hope we get a proper sponsor this time. We cannot keep doing this on scraps."
He began wrapping the fresh bandages around himself.
"Well, boss," Baruch began carefully, "Shmuel asked you to come by. Are you going?"
Ethan froze mid-wrap and exhaled sharply. "Hmm." He really did not want to face that old man today.
"We also have not checked on subject number twenty-three," Mallick added, as if the pile on Ethan's shoulders needed another brick.
Ethan rubbed his forehead. Leadership had never come naturally to him.
Work seemed to multiply around him like they were drawn to his existence. It was one of the reasons he had taken the insane risk of getting involved with a mafia family. He needed an organization to push resources, time, manpower. He needed structure without being the one to build it. Managing all of this alone was exhausting.
He gestured for Baruch to support him.
Ethan rose from the cot and limped toward the exit. Keeping up the injured fiasco.
Outside, a few men noticed them coming and hurried over. One of them offered to drive them back. Ethan accepted immediately. When they asked why he was leaving so soon, he answered with an easy shrug, "Doc says I am fine. I just need sleep and food. I sleep better in my own bed."
Mallick followed them out, still carrying his plate, and immediately began offering samples to the men standing around. Some brave souls accepted a bite.
A beat later, the distinct look of spiritual regret crossed their faces. One even muttered a prayer under his breath as if preparing for the afterlife.
Meanwhile, Ethan and Baruch climbed into a waiting car. The driver was a young boy who looked far too enthusiastic for a man in the mafia. The moment he saw Mallick approaching with the plate, he slammed the door shut and practically sped off before the doctor could offer him a taste.
Baruch chuckled under his breath. Ethan leaned back against the seat, exhausted but relieved to be moving away from the smell of Mallick's culinary experiments.