The Mafia Boss Secretly Followed His Maid’s Little Girl and What He Saw in His Dead Daughter’s Garden Brought Him to His Knees

Silence descended upon the dining room, heavy and suffocating.

Matteo sat frozen in his chair. The color slowly drained from his face, leaving him looking sickly and pale under the chandelier light.

"You're losing your mind, Alessandro," Matteo whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "You're listening to the crazy babblings of a servant's kid? You're letting a toddler ruin twenty years of family loyalty?!"

"You wanted the family, didn't you, Matteo?" Alessandro said, his tone shockingly calm, almost conversational. "My father chose me to lead the Moretti syndicate instead of you. You hated it. But as long as I had Isabella and Arya, I was unbreakable."

Alessandro slowly stood up from his chair.

"You knew that if you killed me, my soldiers would hunt you to the ends of the earth," Alessandro continued, stepping around the long oak table, his heavy shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. "But if you destroyed my heart... if you killed my wife and child... I would destroy myself. I would retreat into this mansion, lock the doors, and leave the entire empire in your hands."

Matteo's breathing grew fast and shallow. Sweat glistened on his forehead.

"You're insane!" Matteo yelled, scrambling backward out of his chair, his hand moving reflexively toward his inner coat pocket where his private pistol was hidden. "Victor, grab him! The boss has lost his head!"

Victor Hale didn't move an inch. He simply reached beneath his jacket, pulled out a heavy suppressor-fitted pistol, and aimed it directly at Matteo's chest.

"Don't move, Matteo," Victor warned coldly.

Matteo froze, his hand pinned inside his coat.

Alessandro stopped three feet away from his cousin. He reached out, grabbed Matteo by his lapels, and dragged him toward the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened onto the back terrace overlooking the sunflower garden.

"Let's go for a walk, cousin," Alessandro growled.

He threw the glass doors open, shoving Matteo out into the cold, pouring rain.

Matteo stumbled across the stone terrace, falling onto his hands and knees in the wet garden soil—the very same soil where three-year-old Emma had sat hours earlier pouring water for her dead father.

Alessandro walked out into the storm, unaffected by the rain soaking his suit. He stood over Matteo like an avenging deity.

"Why, Matteo?" Alessandro demanded, his voice finally breaking into a roar that echoed across the estate. "TELL ME WHY!"

Matteo looked up from the mud, his polished facade completely shattered, replaced by a ugly, twisted mask of bitter hatred.

"BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T DESERVE IT!" Matteo screamed back, wiping mud and rain from his eyes. "You were soft, Alessandro! You spent more time playing piano for your little brat and planting damn flowers with your wife than running the docks! The Caruso family was stepping on our territory, and you did NOTHING!"

Matteo laughed hysterically, a sound filled with pure malice.

"I made a deal with the Carusos!" Matteo confessed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "They gave me fifty percent of the drug trade at Port Newark in exchange for your removal! But I knew you'd fight back if I attacked you directly. So I took your life away piece by piece! I watched you suffer for three years! I watched you crawl into a dark room and rot!"

Alessandro stared down at the man he had once called brother.