Sophia’s been everything. My compass. My voice of reason. My partner in every goddamn way. I’ve got the tools, the tech, the brute force to hack through digital firewalls and lock down networks, but she’s the one with finesse. With connections. With intuition. She knows how to move through La Famiglia’s hierarchy like it’s second nature.
She’s not just a queen.
She’smyqueen. And whether that crown is worn beside a capo or a Don?
That’s still up for the world to decide. I’m not worried. I’ll let the dice fall where they may… I’m the one who loads them.
Tonight will tip the scale.
I've invited all of them here, Enrico, Marcello, Toni, and Stephano. The last we heard, Stephano was halfway to Mexico with his wife. His wife. The last time I saw the bastard, he was too married to his computers to even look at a woman. Guess we all change.
The door swings open.
First comes Enrico, slapping Marcello on the back, both of them laughing at some inside joke. Toni’s trailing behind, eyes sharp, hands in the pockets of his custom jacket like he’s already counting plays.
I stand, glass in hand—Blue Label for us all.
"Gentlemen," I greet. I offer them each a glass. I don’t waste time. "I’m not here to drag this out with pissing contests or sideways glances. You don’t have to trust me. Not yet. I know I’m the new name in the room. So let me go first."
They take their seats, falling onto the leather couches like kings surveying their territory. I stay on my feet, lean against the wall.
"We all know who the problem is. Who’s poisoning the foundation of La Famiglia."
I don’t say the name.
I don’t need to.
Eyes flick. Marcello’s turn to steel. Enrico raises an eyebrow. And Toni sits back like he’s waiting for a show. Good.
I meet each of their gazes without flinching. My tone stays even, but every word is carefully measured. "I’m putting everything on the table—no more secrets. You already know most of it, like the fact that I’m the bastard son of Donna Margarita and Leonardo Zanello. Their dirty little secret, born behind closed doors."
I swirl the glass in my hand once, let the ice clink. By their reaction, it's clear they already knew that part.
"You probably already know the rest of the gory story then. Carlos kept me down and hidden, but I clawed my way up anyway. And now I’m here. Not to beg for scraps. Not to ask for favors. I built my own empire, off the grid, outside your games. But the more I’ve learned, the clearer the rot becomes."
That gets their attention. "This isn’t about me staking a claim." I pause to make that clear. "This is about cutting out the cancer before it spreads. And if that means burning Edoardo to the fucking ground, I’ll light the first match."
Heavy silence follows my words. I look each of them in the eye. They don’t trust me. Not yet. And I don't blame them. "I get it. I’m not naive about how things work in La Famiglia. No one in this room is clean. You’ve all bled, and you’ve all buried bodies together. Loyalty comes in layers: blood, debt, history, fear. But I also know one thing: every one of you has a score to settle with him."
A flicker passes across Toni’s face. Enrico’s jaw twitches. Marcello doesn’t blink, but I see it in the way his fingers tap against the armrest; he’s listening.
"You don’t have to say it out loud, but I know." I lift my glass again, not to toast, but to drive the point home. "Toni, your father’s blood was spilled on Edoardo’swatch. Carlos never paid for it. That alone should be enough reason for you to want the man in the ground."
Toni’s expression darkens.
"Enrico, your family is losing a fortune to Edoardo just because you married someone he didn't approve of."
A raised eyebrow from Enrico confirms I’ve hit a nerve.
"And Marcello. You see Edoardo's weakness as what led to you being shot at. You and Violet."
Marcello’s eyes flicker. Sharp. Controlled. But yeah—he remembers.
"This isn’t about morality. I’m not here to sell you on some noble crusade." I take a step forward, voice quieter, heavier. "And yeah, I blackmailed my way into becoming a capo. Let’s not pretend it was a clean deal. I gave Edoardo two options—he could name me capo... or I’d challenge him for the throne, openly and legally, as Leonardo Zanello’s firstborn. He chose the option that let him save face."
I let that sit. They’d probably already figured as much. "But I’m not naive enough to think he did it out of the goodness of his heart. Or fear. He’s playing something with the Venezuelans, something big. If we don’t stop him soon, he’ll sell out La Famiglia completely."
Toni shifts, his jaw tightens. Enrico’s mouth presses into a hard line. Good. They've already connected the dots.
