All Chapters of The Mafia Protocol: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The morning after Mateo’s execution dawned quietly, as if the city itself was holding its breath. A thin veil of fog clung to the skyline, muffling sound and softening the harsh lines of steel and concrete. Inside Riccardo’s penthouse, the air was thick with something far more tangible than mist—relief, exhaustion, and the lingering weight of everything that had come before.Camilla stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her arms folded over her chest, watching the first rays of sunlight pierce through the haze. She hadn’t slept. Neither had Riccardo.Behind her, the bedroom was dim, the sheets untouched. Neither of them had made it that far.“I thought it would feel different,” she murmured, not turning around.Riccardo’s voice was low as he joined her at the window. “What did you expect?”“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Triumph? Peace?” She let out a breath. “Instead, it feels like… the beginning of something else.”Riccardo nodded. “Because it is.”She turned to look at him. His eye

The safehouse in Berlin was silent except for the soft hum of a decrypted server humming in the background. Camilla stood beside Marco and watched as lines of code scrolled across the screen, translating Crane’s backup drive into fragments of conversations, offshore account numbers, and—most notably—names. Her own included. “He was watching me,” Camilla muttered, her jaw clenched. “For months.” Marco tapped a few keys, isolating a surveillance log labeled: Subject: Camilla Knight-Falcone. Priority Level: Critical. “Crane wasn’t just selling information,” he said. “He was orchestrating leverage. Using you as bait.” “For what?” “To lure Riccardo out of his shell. Crane knew about the attempted coup against the Falcone family two years ago. Someone paid him to start pulling strings again. This wasn’t just about Lorenzo or the cartel—this was personal.” Riccardo entered the room, fresh from the rain, his coat damp and his eyes colder than steel. He scanned the screen, then Camilla.

The black sedan didn’t take the expected route. Instead of heading west toward the Czech-German border, it swerved south, vanishing into the mountain roads beyond Prague. Camilla and Riccardo, following at a safe distance in an unmarked vehicle, exchanged a silent glance. “This isn’t a delivery route,” Camilla murmured, fingers tight on the edge of her seat. “No,” Riccardo agreed. “This is a handoff.” From the back seat, Marco’s voice was clipped. “Coordinates place them near an abandoned chateau. Cold War relic. Intel says it’s been used for private auctions and… interrogations.” Riccardo’s expression darkened. “Then that’s where we find answers.” The chateau sat like a beast in the dark—massive, crumbling, half-swallowed by forest. It might have once been beautiful, but now it reeked of secrets and rot. Outside, armed guards patrolled the perimeter, faces hidden by night-vision goggles. Riccardo crouched beside Camilla behind the tree line, scanning the building with binocula

The first rays of dawn sliced through the blinds, cutting the room into sharp, jagged pieces of light. Camilla sat at the desk in her study, the flickering screen casting a pale glow over her features. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart beating in time with the rapid pulses of her thoughts. Behind her, Riccardo entered quietly, as if he knew better than to interrupt the silence that surrounded her like a shroud. “What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice low but warm. She didn’t turn to face him, not yet. Not when the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place so fast it made her head spin. “Holloway,” she said, voice almost a whisper. “He’s not just a lawyer. He’s the gateway.” Riccardo stepped closer, his presence anchoring her, as it always did. “The gateway to what?” “To everything,” Camilla replied. “The connections. The money laundering. The shell companies. He’s been running interference for every operation. Every dirty deal, every trade… It all goes through

The stark, dimly lit underground chamber hummed with the quiet buzz of machinery and the weight of secrecy. Camilla stood beside Riccardo, her mind racing as she scanned the data flowing across the monitors. The enormity of the situation was suffocating. What they had uncovered in the Sovereign’s hidden lair—what they had learned about her father, her connection to this shadowy world—was a revelation that threatened to upend everything she had once known. But it wasn’t just the discovery of her father’s role in the conspiracy that had rattled her. It was the knowledge that they were standing on the precipice of something far larger. The Sovereign, an enigmatic and ruthless force, was more than just an underground organization—it was a network of power that stretched across continents, influencing governments, corporations, and criminal empires alike. And at the center of it all, Camilla now knew, lay a tangled web of betrayal. “How do we even begin?” Camilla asked quietly, her voice