Something is off. I can feel it in my chest. My wife has been…different these past few days. After the gala, I noticed a shift in her behavior. She tells me she’s fine, but I know her better than most—and I can feel that she’s not. Something’s on her mind—and every instinct points to Giacomo. The thorn that never stops digging deeper.
“I’m sure you’re overthinking it.” Valerio sits on the opposite side of my desk sipping a coffee. “Maybe she is just shaken up by what happened and then seeing Giacomo. Her head is probably all the way fucked.”
I shake my head and lean further into my chair. “No, it’s not that. She would tell me if it was. There is something else.”
“Maybe—but until she does, there’s no use worrying yourself over it. Just be there for her. Focus on what’s in front of you.” He sets his mug down and throws me the file he walked in with. “We know when the next shipment is for his trafficking ring. They are coming in from Western Africa, about fifty women—ten of them underage.”
My lips curl up in disgust. “That ass has no moral code.”
The men in this industry are far from saints, but we live by a code. We stand by the rules set out in order to keep all of us in check and from turning into absolute devils. The first and most important rule is that we don’t touch women or children.
“He will be gone soon enough.” Valerio adds, “We should have it intercepted by midnight before the ship officially docks. Dario lent us some of his men to make the bust.”
I nod. “Never in my years did I think that I would ever align myself with Dario, of all people.”
“Life has a crazy way of bringing the most unlikely people together. But we need to stay on high alert. I added three more guards to the penthouse, as you requested. We don’t need another person slipping through the cracks.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the shouting from outside stops me.
“You can’t go in there, he’s in a meeting!” I hear my receptionist call. “Please, just wait—”
Then the door swings open without warning. Valerio looks over his shoulder, and we both look to the only one who could make it into this building without issue.
Daniele.
“I am so sorry, sir,” my secretary says. “I tried to stop him, but he—”
I raise my hand in the air to stop her. “It’s all right. You can leave us.”
She bites down on her lip, looking like a scared pup. She nods and closes the door as she steps out, leaving me with my son and Valerio. The tension in the air is thick and fills the gap that sits between us.
“Daniele,” I say. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Daniele doesn’t speak, he looks between Valerio and me. “Can’t a son come and spend time with his own father?”
“Oh, I’m your father again?”
“No.” His fists curl tightly at his sides, shoulders twitching like he’s barely holding it together. His shirt is half-untucked, wrinkled like he slept in it, and there’s a faint tremor in his hands—whether from anger or lack of sleep, I can’t tell. Dark shadows bruise the skin beneath his bloodshot eyes, and a faint sheen of sweat clings to his brow despite the cool air of the room. “Leave, Valerio. This is a family affair.”
“Nice to see you too, dear nephew. How have you been? Me? I have been fine.” Valerio picks up his mug again and tips in the direction of my son. “Where are your manners, child?”
“I am not a boy. And I need you out, I have much to discuss with Mr. Davacalli.” Daniele steps into the office. “I’m sure there is some errand you can go do. How about picking up my stepmom’s dry cleaning?”
“Why, you—”
“Valerio, it’s okay. Leave us. I need a word with my son.”
Valerio looks like he wants to argue, but he nods and gets up from his chair. “I will handle our issue. Call if you need me, boss.”
Valerio walks to the door but not before bumping shoulders with Daniele. The two make a show of sizing each other up before he walks out of the office.
Daniele stands in front of me, his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. His suit hangs off him like an afterthought, tie undone and collar askew, as if getting dressed was a battle he barely won. His expression is a storm I can’t name—rage, pain, maybe both—but whatever it is, it’s brewing fast.
We haven’t spoken to each other properly in weeks. It has been hatred-filled stares and almost-brawls every time we have come in contact. This time, I’m hoping we can be a little more productive.
“I fucking hate you,” he says. “I really fucking hate you, Matteo Davacalli.”
The words cut through me like a blade. I don’t react. I don’t let it show. Instead, I just hold my nerve, and I hold his stare.
Ticking bomb… ticking bomb…
I need to handle this with care. I need to choose my words carefully and try to bridge this gap between us.
Instead, I exhale slowly, placing my pen down with precision. “Son, I want you to know how deeply sorry I am that I had to lie to you. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
Daniele lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Hurt me? You didn’t hurt me, Matteo. You awakened me to who I truly am. You showed me my true birthright—my true bloodline.”
My stomach turns.
I rise slowly, rounding the desk to stand in front of him. “Daniele, whatever Giacomo is feeding you, he is lying. He cannot be trusted. The man is a fraud and a psychopath.”
His nostrils flare. “No, he’s not. He told me everything. Everything!”
His neck flushes crimson, the veins in his temple bulging as rage blazes through his eyes.
“You killed my mother. That poison story? A lie. She wanted to go back to him—and you stopped her. Because you needed to control her.”
The air leaves my lungs. The world tilts for a split second, like the floor’s been yanked from beneath me.
My breath catches.
I take a step forward, my voice low, disbelieving. “What did you just say?”
Daniele stalks forward. “I know what you did. He showed me the true toxicology report. She died of an overdose—it was never poison.”
Damn you, Giacomo.
He’s been poisoning the boy’s mind—feeding him lies like scripture.
No wonder he looks cracked at the seams—like he’s barely holding himself together.
He truly believes I killed his mother.
The woman I once loved.
I grit my teeth. “I would never hurt Beatrice, and you know that. I loved your mother.”
“Liar!” he roars.
“Daniele, calm yourself.” I watch his movements carefully. I can’t see a weapon on him, and that gives me some relief. “I am telling you the truth, I would never have hurt your mother. How could I? She gave me one of the greatest gifts in my life—you.”
Daniele steps closer, his eyes burning into mine. “You took her away from him. You took her—and when she finally wanted out, she died. And you think I’m just supposed to believe that was a coincidence?”
His voice shakes now, fury laced with something more fragile. “She was trying to tell me something. I could see it in her eyes that night—like the truth was clawing at her throat. But she was scared. Of what, I don’t know. Of you? Of him? Of both of you?”
He presses a trembling hand to his chest. “And then the next morning… she was gone. Just like that.”
His jaw clenches, but his eyes are wild, haunted. “I’ve played that night over and over in my head, trying to figure out what I missed. What I didn’t see. And now I know—she was silenced.”
I stare at him, my pulse hammering beneath the surface. “That’s not what happened.”
“Then tell me, what happened?” His voice cracks slightly, the pain beneath his fury bleeding through. “Because I spent my whole life wondering why I never felt like I belonged. Why I always felt… out of step with you.”
I clench my fists at my sides. “I raised you as my own. I watched you take your first breath, first steps. I am the one who taught you how to hold a gun. Yes, we may not be blood. But you are my son. My. Son.”
“You lied to me—pretending I was your own.” His chest rises and falls with ragged breaths. “All my life, I was the shadow of something you didn’t want to claim. The son you tolerated because you had to.”
My stomach twists violently. “That’s not true. I love you, Daniele.”
Daniele lets out another sharp laugh, but it’s hollow. Empty. His voice lowers into something more venomous. “Isn’t it? You never looked at me the way a father looks at his son. I saw it in your eyes—pity, obligation. And now I know why.”
I take a step forward, holding my hands out to show him I’m not a threat. “That’s not true, and you know that. He’s been feeding you poison and trying to fully turn you. I am your dad, Daniele. I gave you your name. I love you, and I loved your mother with everything I had inside of me.”
Something inside me fractures. The silence between us stretches, heavy with words neither of us can take back. Then, Daniele exhales, his expression hardening into something distant. Something unreadable.
“For the rest of my life,” he says, voice like stone, “I will hate you.”
I inhale sharply, my chest tightening. “If you hate me so much as you claim to, Daniele, why are you here? Why are you standing in this office with no weapon on you, only your anger?” No gun. No backup. Just fury and grief. That tells me everything.
Silence. He stands there with tension riddled all over his body.
“Because you don’t actually hate me, do you?” I move closer toward him, but only by a step. “You’re angry. Your mind is confused, and your heart hurts, and you are trying to make sense of the truth.
“You want the truth? Fine. Here it is. Your mother was never supposed to be with Giacomo. She was sold to him—given away by her father like property to pay off a debt. He was cruel from the beginning, but over the years, he became something worse. A monster. He beat her, broke her spirit, and treated her like she was nothing. I saw the bruises, Daniele. I saw the terror in her eyes. I was the one who found her unconscious—bleeding on the cold tiles of a bathroom floor after he’d nearly killed her.
“That was the night everything changed. She was pregnant with you. And she knew… she knew if she didn’t escape, he would destroy both of you. So she ran. To me. For safety. For salvation. And I took her in. I gave her my name. My home. I married her not because I had to, but because I loved her. And we raised you together, as our son. We were a family, Daniele. A real one. And we were happy—until now.”
He takes a sharp step back, shaking his head. “Stop. Just stop. I’ve heard enough of your fucking lies, Matteo. You think you can rewrite the past to make yourself the hero? Save it. I’m done listening to your bullshit.
“They aren’t lies. And you know they aren’t.” I step closer, but he takes two steps back again. “I am sorry if I ever made you feel like you were never good enough for me, Danny boy. You are my world, and you always will be.”
The silence that stretches between us is loud. I want to reach for him and hold him to my chest the same way I did when he was just a boy. But I hold myself.
The ball is in his court now.
“Fuck you and fuck your stupid empire that meant more to you than me.” He turns on his heels sharply and walks out, leaving nothing behind but the wreckage of everything I tried to hold onto.
For the first time in a long time, I feel something I cannot control.
Loss.
And worse than that—
Defeat.
The door slams shut behind him. The silence that follows is unbearable. I stand there, unmoving, staring at the space Daniele just occupied, his words still ringing in my ears like gunfire.
“For the rest of my life, I will hate you.”
I press my fingertips against my temple. Control. Breathe. But it’s useless. The tension in my chest is unbearable, pressing down like a vice, suffocating me in ways I refuse to name.
Daniele is my son. My son.
Not by blood. But by something far greater.
And yet, he looks at me as if I’m nothing to him. As if the years I spent raising him, protecting him, guiding him, none of it ever mattered. I should be furious. I should get up, go after him, shake him by the shoulders until he sees the truth. Until he sees me.
Giacomo.
He’s poisoned my son’s mind, twisted his grief into something sharp enough to drive straight into my chest. And Daniele—angry, lost Daniele—has swallowed every lie whole.
You never looked at me the way a father looks at his son.
I am reminded of how Beatrice never wanted him to know the truth of his paternity. She wanted him to know only me as his father. I promised her that I would keep this secret, and now I’ve failed her, too.
How the fuck do I fix this?
Daniele isn’t a child anymore. He’s a grown man, one who has been made to believe that his entire life was built on a foundation of lies. And the worst part? He’s not entirely wrong.
I should have told him the truth—I should have gone against Beatrice’s wishes and jumped the gun. Maybe then Giacomo wouldn’t have had the ammunition to turn him against me.
“Fuck.” The curse is felt right down to the very depths of my soul.
A knock sounds at the door.
I already know who it is.
“Come in.”
Valerio steps inside, his usual smirk absent. His sharp blue eyes scan me. He exhales, shutting the door behind him.
“Well, that went about as well as we knew it would.” He sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, boss.”
Valerio comes to stand beside me. “I think if we kidnap him and lock him up and starve him a little, he will come out right. We could add in a good spanking or two.”
I let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. Almost.
“This isn’t a joke.”
Valerio shrugs. “Didn’t say it was. I’m entirely serious. What did he say?”
“He hates me.”
Valerio exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Matteo…”
I don’t need his sympathy. I don’t need anything. What I need is to fix this and get my son back.
“Giacomo fed him a story—one where I stole his mother away, ruined her life, and then had her killed.” I shake my head, jaw clenched tight. “And he fucking believes it.”
I pause, trying to breathe through the storm building in my chest. “She was everything to him, Valerio. His sun, his constant. He clung to her like a lifeline. When she died… he shattered. I watched it happen, piece by piece. And I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to reach him.”
My voice lowers, rough. “And now Giacomo’s dug his claws into that grief—twisted it until it’s poisoned him. Turned his love for her into hate for me, turning it into a weapon—and aiming it straight at me. And he’s not just angry, Valerio… he’s grieving all over again. Only this time, I’m the villain in his story.”
Valerio’s expression darkens. “That son of a bitch.”
I glance at him. “Daniele or Giacomo?”
Valerio snorts. “Both.”
I tilt my head to the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything come down on me. I run a hand down my face. What the fuck am I supposed to do?
Valerio watches me carefully. Then, in a quieter voice, he says, “Do you want my advice?”
I exhale through my nose. “Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.” He nudges his shoulder against mine. “Don’t fight him on this.”
I narrow my eyes. “You want me to just let him believe Giacomo’s lies?”
“No,” Valerio says smoothly. “I want you to give him space. Right now, he’s drowning in anger, confusion, and grief. His world just got turned upside down—and now he knows he’s not your blood. It’s a lot for any man to take. If you push back, it’ll only make him fight harder. Let him burn himself out.”
My stomach twists at the idea of doing nothing. But Valerio isn’t done with his advice.
“And when the time comes,” he continues, “when Giacomo finally shows his hand, when Daniele sees what kind of monster he really is—then you step in.”
I roll my shoulders, considering his words. It’s a risk. But maybe he’s right. Daniele has to see the truth for himself.
And if he doesn’t? If he stays loyal to the man who has orchestrated this entire war?
Then I will have to do what I’ve always done.
Win.
No matter the cost.
The weight of Daniele’s words lingers, pressing against my chest like a slow, suffocating vice. I sit on the edge of the desk, letting the silence stretch between Valerio and me, knowing that no matter how much I try to shove this feeling away, it refuses to be ignored.
I hate you. Three words I never thought I would hear from him.
I glance at Valerio, who is watching me with an unusual seriousness. He knows me too well—knows that I am at war with myself right now.
Finally, I exhale, forcing the tension in my shoulders to ease. “So what do I do in the meantime? Just let him run a rampage in the streets of Manhattan?”
Valerio smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You do what you do best.”
I arch a brow. “Which is?”
His grin turns sharper. “You destroy the bastard who put you in this position in the first place.”
A slow, dark chuckle escapes me. There it is, that familiar, ruthless focus settling back into place. The storm inside me shifts, redirecting itself toward the man who has orchestrated this entire disaster.
Giacomo.
“Then let’s make him bleed.”
Valerio nods approvingly. “Now that’s the Matteo I know.”
I look at the clock. I’ve been away from Maria for too long.
“Send word to Dario,” I say, already moving toward the door. “I want every lead on Giacomo and Emily verified within the next twenty-four hours. I want this issue done and over with within the next two weeks. Enough is enough.”
Valerio grins. “You got it, boss.”
I step out of the office, my thoughts already shifting to the next battle. I lost the last two, but the war isn’t over yet.
As I make my way down to my car, my mind begins to shift focus to something else—or rather someone else.
Maria.
She is my anchor in all of this. The one person whose loyalty is unwavering. The one person who doesn’t see me as a monster or a king of sorts—just as Matteo.
And yet, she’s hiding something from me.
She thinks I don’t notice but I do. The way she hesitated after the gala. The flicker of something in her eyes when I asked if she was okay.
She’s keeping something from me.
And I intend to find out what it is.
Whatever she’s hiding… I’ll tear the truth from the shadows myself.
