"Babe, good morning."
"Morning, William," she whispered, forcing a smile. "I'm sorry… I was supposed to cook today."
"No, it doesn't matter. I love cooking for you," William said warmly.
"Hm… still, thank you," Olivia whispered.
William smiled, but his tone grew serious. "No problem. But when I woke up this morning, I found you sleeping on the cold floor in the living room. I carried you back to bed. What happened?"
Olivia froze, her body stiffening at his words. For a brief second, panic flickered in her eyes before she forced a calm smile. "I must have fallen asleep while talking about work with James," she lied. The truth—that Vincent had called her in the dead of night—was something she didn't dare share. William would only think she was delusional, maybe even push her to visit her therapist again.
She gently slipped her arms from William's waist and took the dishes from him, setting them on the dining table. "Well, I need to wash my face and brush my teeth first. I'll be out in a moment," Olivia said softly without waiting for a reply, Olivia turned and walked toward the bathroom, her steps steady, though her heart felt anything but.
When Olivia returned, William was already eating. She quietly joined him at the table, forcing herself to focus on her food.
Meanwhile, far from the warmth of their kitchen, Fifth Avenue's Upper East Side buzzed with activity. Lorenzo's mansion loomed like a fortress, its driveway crowded with sleek black cars. One by one, men in tailored suits and women in sharp attire stepped out, their footsteps echoing across the marble entrance as they moved inside.
The grand living room soon filled with voices, the air thick with tension and anticipation.
A young Italian man spoke up. "Underboss Russo, what's going on? Why did the boss suddenly call for a meeting?" he asked.
"Pietro, you're too impatient." A young woman in tight black leather trousers and a cropped jacket blew a bubble with her gum before smirking. "We'll find out soon enough. Stop bothering the underboss."
Pietro shot her a glare. "I don't remember asking you, Paola."
Before the argument could escalate, a commanding voice cut through the room. "Enough. The two of you can't be in the same room without fighting."
It was Dominic, the underboss. Both Pietro and Paola immediately lowered their heads. "Yes, Underboss," they replied in unison.
The heavy tension broke as footsteps descended from the grand staircase.
Lorenzo appeared, dressed in a sharp black suit that highlighted his tall, imposing frame. His striking green eyes swept across the room—cold, mesmerizing, and dangerous. The crowd fell silent, as if spellbound, until Enzo appeared at his side, whispering something discreetly into his ear.
In perfect unison, the gathered men and women rose to their feet, their voices echoing in respect.
"Boss."
"All right, sit down," Lorenzo commanded, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade.
"Yes, Boss," the men echoed in unison before taking their seats. Enzo, the consigliere, moved with deliberate calm and settled into the chair opposite Dominic. Though Dominic was the underboss and second-in-command, his authority outweighed Enzo's advisory role—and everyone in the room knew it.
Lorenzo leaned back, his sharp green eyes sweeping over the room. His presence alone was enough to silence everyone.
"I called this meeting to address a threat," he began coldly. No one dared interrupt. "The Obsidian Brotherhood has joined hands with the Shadow Wolves. My Sources suggests they're planning to intercept our shipment arriving in New York next week."
A ripple of unease stirred across the table, but Lorenzo's icy gaze froze every whisper.
"That shipment," he continued, his tone laced with menace, "must land safely. It cannot fall into their hands—or into the hands of the police. And since they dare to cast their eyes on what is ours, they must pay. If we don't respond, every gang in this city will think we're weak. And weakness…" He let the word hang in the air like a curse. "…is something I will never tolerate."
His gaze shifted to Dominic. No words were needed.
Dominic leaned forward, picking up where Lorenzo left off. "The Silent Vipers will join us in this move. Together, we'll crush the Obsidian Brotherhood and drive the Shadow Wolves out of Brooklyn."
The announcement dropped like a bomb. Several men exchanged tense glances. The Obsidian Brotherhood wasn't as wealthy or connected as Lorenzo's syndicate, but they were still one of the top seven Mafia families in New York.
And the Shadow Wolves? They ranked among the top five cartels in New York and France alike. Challenging both at once was no small feat.
Paola leaned back in her chair, excitement flashing in her dark eyes as she twirled a butterfly knife between her fingers. "Underboss, are we only taking their Brooklyn territory?"
Dominic smirked. Before he could answer, Lorenzo spoke first, his tone a chilling promise.
"No. We're not just taking their territory." His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "We're taking their goods as well."
Dominic's eyes flashed with anticipation."I heard the new shipment meant for the Obsidian Brotherhood is fifty million worth of coke before it even hits the streets."
The room fell silent. Every man at the table stiffened, eyes widening in disbelief. Fifty million—for just one shipment. The thought of how much they could pocket if they intercepted it was enough to set blood racing through their veins.
"But underboss…" Pietro leaned forward, lowering his tone, "what about the Silent Viper family? Won't they interfere?"
Dominic's lips curled into a cold smirk. "While we take from the Obsidian Brotherhood, they'll be busy raiding the Shadow Wolves cartel in Bronx City. Timing is everything."
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Now, we'll divide the groups—some will secure our shipment, the rest will strike the Obsidian Brotherhood's convoy."
"Underboss," Enzo interrupted, his face calm yet sharp, "why not take it further? If we move recklessly, the Obsidian Brotherhood will suspect us. Instead, let's make them believe it was the Shadow Wolves who did it."
Lorenzo raised a brow. "How do you plan to do that?"
Enzo's indifferent gaze swept across the table. "Simple. The Shadow Wolves are known for their style—black jackets, motorcycles, and the insignia they always flaunt. We disguise ourselves as them, leave their mark behind, and vanish.
The Obsidian Brotherhood will blame the Shadow Wolves, while the Shadow Wolves will assume it was the Obsidian Brotherhood setting them up. They'll clash, and while they bleed each other dry, we profit."
The table erupted with murmurs of approval, the tension turning into excitement.
"We'll go with Enzo's idea. Dom, I'll leave it to you to decide who goes on the mission. Enzo will join you, so the two of you make sure the group stays in line and doesn't mess this up," Lorenzo said as he rose from his chair.
"You know how to handle it. Report the rest to me later—I need to head to the office."
Lorenzo's voice was cold and commanding, leaving no room for questions. He rose from his chair and strode toward the door. "Paola, step out with me. I have a mission for you."
At once, the men in the living room stood and bowed. "Goodbye, boss."
Paola smiled sweetly as she followed Lorenzo, though her eyes briefly flicked toward Enzo before falling back on Lorenzo. Outside, they approached the polished black car waiting at the entrance. Lorenzo stopped suddenly, turning his sharp gaze on Enzo. Without a word, Enzo stepped back, giving them space.
Paola stepped forward, her heart pounding.
"I want you to plant CCTV cameras and listening devices in someone's home," Lorenzo ordered, his voice cold. "Hide them where they cannot be noticed. If she discovers them, you will be punished. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Boss," Paola replies quickly. On the surface, her tone is obedient, but inside, hatred burns hotter than fire. Who the hell is that bitch who dares to try and steal her man? She better pray she never finds out her true identity—because once she does, she's as good as dead.
She dares not reveal her true thoughts to Lorenzo. She gives him her cutest smile. "Yes, Boss. But which apartment is the person staying in, and how do I get in?" Paola asks.
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed, his stare cutting through her false charm. Paola's smile faltered as fear coiled in her chest.
"If you don't even know how to break into an apartment…" Lorenzo's voice dropped, laced with disdain, "…then you need more training from Carlo."
The moment the name left his lips, Paola's blood ran cold. A shiver coursed through her body, and she quickly lowered her gaze to her feet. She dared not look him in the eyes again.
"I—I'm sorry, boss. I can do it. I swear," Paola stammered, her face pale.
Everyone in their mafia family feared Carlo. He was the man who trained every new recruit, and his methods were merciless. Some failed to survive his training, while those who did carried scars that never faded. Except for the boss and underboss, even Enzo, the family's advisor, could not inspire the same dread Carlo commanded.