THE MAID’S FOUR-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER TOLD A MAFIA BOSS TO LOOK UNDER THE TABLE—WHAT HE SAW MADE HIM DESTROY THE WOMAN HE LOVED

Aleandro’s mind raced. "Sister? Sophia doesn't have a sister. Her files..."

"Her files were altered!" Clara insisted, tears brimming in her eyes. "Three years ago, before she met you, her younger sister, Maya, was taken by a human trafficking network tied to the Chicago syndicate. Sophia spent every penny she had trying to buy her back. That seventy thousand dollars wasn't a bribe to betray you—it was ransom payments to keep Maya alive!"

Aleandro stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. "Why didn't she tell me? I have armies! I could have razed Chicago to the ground!"

"Because," Clara hesitated, panic seizing her face, "because the man running the extortion ring inside your territory... is someone you trust with your life. She was warned that if she told you, Maya would die instantly, and you would be assassinated from behind."

"Who?" Aleandro’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble.

Before Clara could answer, the study door swung open.

Victor stood in the doorway, his eyes sharp, taking in the scene—the maid standing too close, the Don’s pale face, the tense silence.

"Is everything alright here, boss?" Victor asked, his hand casually drifting near the inside of his jacket. "Clara, shouldn't you be downstairs preparing the breakfast line?"

Clara paled, bowing her head immediately. "Yes, Mr. Romano. Apologies." She quickly retreated, squeezing past Victor without meeting his eye.

Aleandro masked his emotions instantly, slipping into the cold, unreadable persona that had made him feared across the country. "Everything is fine, Victor. Clara was just leaving. What news do you have?"

Victor walked in, resting his hands on the desk. "We tracked the gray-haired man's sedan to a warehouse down near the docks. It belongs to an independent crew. I can take a strike team tonight and clear them out."

Aleandro stared at Victor's hands. He noticed the slight twitch in Victor's left index finger—a nervous tic Victor only displayed when he was orchestrating a trap.

"No," Aleandro said calmly. "We wait. I want to question Sophia again myself. Alone."