To Keep a Homeless Mafia Boss
He looked older, broken, the vibrant energy that had once characterized him extinguished, replaced by a hollow emptiness.
I approached him slowly, my movements deliberate, my expression carefully crafted to convey sympathy and concern. The news of Isabella’s death had been plastered across every news outlet, a spectacle of tragedy that I had orchestrated with cold precision. Now, I would play the role of the sympathetic friend, the comforting presence in his time of need. My heart, however, felt strangely devoid of emotion, a cold, calculating engine driving my actions.
“Arnaldo,” I said softly, my voice laced with a carefully modulated tone of sorrow. “I… I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Hot Chapters