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"Are we locked on the mercenaries' location?"I stood in Dante's office, eyes locked on the map of Chicago. Red pins stabbed through it like warning signs."Confirmed," Rico said. "Dozens flew in last night on a private jet. Isabella burned through her last stash to hire them.""The target?""Salvatore's funeral. Tomorrow. Alessandro's showing up. Marco wants to take everyone out in one shot."Figures. Exile had snapped him clean. With Isabella egging him on, he was going all in."Get our people ready," Dante said, already unlocking the weapons cabinet. "If he wants war, we finish it."***By morning, Saint Mary's Cathedral was packed.Salvatore had betrayed us, yeah—but old blood still got a proper send-off.Alessandro sat front row. Dante and I were right beside him.Something felt off. A few "mourners" had weird placements—one near every exit."It's starting," Dante murmured.Right on cue, just as the priest began to pray, the back doors banged open.Marco barged in wi
The second I stepped in, all eyes locked on me.Marco and his crew looked like they wanted me gone yesterday. Dante gave a small nod—calm face, but his eyes flickered with something close to worry.But Alessandro caught me off guard. No rage, no doubt—just this calm, unreadable satisfaction."Giulia, my dear." He stood, pulled out a chair beside him. "Sit."Marco's jaw clenched. The Capos traded nervous glances."Papa, what are you doing?" Marco hissed.Alessandro sat down, eyes sweeping the room. Then locked on Marco, full of disappointment."Do you even realize what you just said?""I accused betrayal!" Marco snapped. "Dante betrayed us. He betrayed Chicago!""No." Alessandro's voice dropped cold. "You falsely accused the woman who saved this family. Giulia De Luca is a gift from God. And you—" his stare burned through Marco—"you humiliated her over some damn stripper."Rocco jumped in. "Don, what about our independence—""Independence?" Alessandro scoffed, walking to the
"Salvatore, there's a three-million-dollar hole in the West Dock accounts."Dante's voice cut through the room like ice.The named Capo turned pale, his hands trembling. "Don, I can explai—""No need." Dante stood, moving like his leg had never been hurt. "Angelo, take him to meet God."Two guys in black closed in."Dante! Don't! I fought beside your father!" Salvatore thrashed, panicked."Which makes it worse." Dante sat back down. "Get him out."The doors shut. Silence dropped. No one dared look up.Since getting back on his feet, Dante had wiped out six traitors and cleaned up three branches. Fast, brutal, no second chances."East Side casino's next." Dante flipped a page. "Tommy, your numbers are up forty percent. Solid work."Tommy lit up. "All thanks to Don's leadership!"Alessandro, seated at the head, watched quietly. In three months, Dante had flipped the family upside down—and earned his respect.After the meeting, Alessandro stayed behind."You handled that well
"This will hurt. You'll need to bear it."The lab doc held up a long needle, eyes on Dante."We need to hit the damaged nerve root. It'll take about six hours."I sat next to Dante, watching him stay calm.Getting him this treatment? I'd pulled every string the De Luca Family had.Three private jets flew in the gear. Five top neurosurgeons flew in under the radar."Let's do it," Dante said, lying back on the surgical table, steady as ever.I grabbed his hand. "I'm not going anywhere."They started. Machines worth more than some mansions buzzed around us. I just kept praying.Six hours later, the lead doc peeled off his mask, looking wiped but pleased."It worked. He should get full use of his leg back in three weeks."I finally breathed.Dante crashed hard after—slept three days straight. I barely left his side.Morning of day four, his eyes opened."How do you feel?"He tested his leg, a flicker of shock crossing his face. "Feels... good. Pain's down. I can feel the str
"Let go of me!"Marco's voice bounced off the clinic walls, but Dante didn't move an inch."Giulia's about to be my wife. The Lady of the Falcone Family," Dante said, voice low and lethal. "You better learn respect."The staff froze, caught in the silent pressure of the moment.Marco struggled but couldn't break free. His face flushed."You think marrying her changes anything? You're still a cripple!""Is that so?"Dante let go. Marco stumbled back, rubbing his wrist."You can't even protect yourself," Marco sneered. "And you think you can protect her? That bullet made you dead weight. Papa was just too polite to say it."The room went still.I saw it—the way Dante's whole body tensed. Coiled tight. But his face? Ice."You'll never lead this family," Marco spat. "A cripple can't be Don."Dante looked ready to answer, but I stepped in, sliding naturally to his side."You're right, Marco," I said coolly. "Dante was injured."Marco smirked, thinking I'd folded."But," I sna
The next morning, a soft knock woke me."Signorina, breakfast is ready," a maid called through the door.I stared at the ceiling for a second, letting last night hit me all over again.I was engaged. And in a month, I'd be married to Dante Falcone.After freshening up, I made my way to the dining room.Dante was already there, papers spread in front of him."Morning," he said, standing to pull out my chair."Morning." I sat, eyeing the fancy breakfast. "You're up early.""Old habit." He slid a document toward me. "Property agreement. All your assets stay yours—I won't touch a cent."I flipped through it. Way more generous than I expected.It basically gave me full freedom."Also," Dante said, "I arranged a memorial Mass for your mother this afternoon. I know you were young when she passed."I looked up, caught off guard.That loss was buried deep—and he remembered."Thank you," I said, voice catching."We're getting married," he said softly. "It's the least I could do."







