Chapter One Hundred and Forty-One

Gen’s hand hovered over the door handle, frozen for a moment as hesitation gripped her. She withdrew her hand slowly, closing her eyes to steady herself. Lifting her chin toward the overcast sky, she drew in a deep, calming breath. When she opened her eyes again, she yanked the door open, immediately hit by a sharp, cold gust mingled with the unmistakable smell of polluted river water drifting in from the Hudson. Why did fate have to tie her heart to a man who lived amidst the chaos of New York? The city reeked of grime at every turn. It was relentless, brimming with danger and ruthless souls. Maybe, in some twisted way, she belonged here after all. Slipping Leo’s bat over her shoulder, she stepped inside the cavernous warehouse.

Her footsteps were muffled against the concrete floor, the soft soles of her running shoes chosen deliberately for stealth. She tugged the hoodie tighter around her head, wrapping herself in the fading scent of honey and tobacco — Matteo’s scent, so familiar and comforting. She could have dressed up for this—worn heels, put on makeup, played the part. But it felt like a pointless effort. Nothing was guaranteed in this life, a mantra Matteo had repeated so often it had begun to echo in her own mind. If today was the day things went wrong, if she was to meet her end, then dammit, she wanted to be comfortable.

“Any word?” she murmured softly as Leo strolled in behind her, casually snapping peanut shells between his fingers as if this were just another routine evening. His usual six p.m. mafia boss showdown.

“No, Mrs. Accardi. Nothing yet,” Leo replied.

“One of these days, you’re going to call me by my first name,” Gen said with a raised eyebrow, a playful challenge in her voice.

Leo smirked, probably thinking she was trying to lighten the heavy mood. But if she let her gaze linger on the group of lethal men at the far end of the warehouse, her legs might give out.

“I’ve called you by your first name,” Leo argued.

Gen snorted. “Yeah, only when you thought you were about to die.”

“Exactly. Only if I’m certain I’ll lose my job will I call you anything but your married name,” Leo explained with a grin.

Gen stopped, turning fully to face him. “Leo, you’re fired.”

Leo lifted her chin with a mockingly pitiful look. “You’re adorable.”

“Well, well, well. I’m actually surprised you showed up after all,” Michele’s voice cut through the tense air as he and his crew strode confidently toward them.

“I’m no coward,” Gen shot back, her eyes scanning the group flanking Michele.

Alessio stepped forward, positioning himself between the two sides. His suit was perfectly pressed, his posture rigid, his face unreadable. She recognized Michele’s second-in-command, Stefano, and the other two men were familiar faces she’d seen before at Carmela’s.

“I thought we were only allowed one?” Gen asked, flicking her eyes between the three men standing beside Michele.

Michele rubbed his hands together slowly. “I’m still waiting on my reinforcements.”

“Not good enough?” Gen asked, pointing her bat toward them.

Michele’s lips curled into a sinister smile, his chin dipping down to elongate his face like a mask from a horror film. “Not compared to what’s coming.”

Gen rested the bat’s end on the concrete and leaned against it casually. “They’ve got five minutes before I crack this bat against your skull.”

“So confident,” Michele taunted.

“I have everything to lose,” Gen said firmly.

“Do you? Maybe the world would be better off if you lost it all,” Michele sneered.

Gen’s stomach twisted in revulsion, but it was Leo who took a threatening step forward. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growled.

Michele’s eyes lazily shifted to Leo. “Are you her protector now? Accardi’s doing quite well in prison.”

Suddenly, the door behind them creaked open, and all eyes turned. Gen’s breath caught. Conor had warned her, told her what to expect—but seeing it with her own eyes? Watching Maisy O’Brien stride in with a bright smile, an aluminum bat casually resting on her shoulder, made Gen want to take a few practice swings herself.

“Oh, there she is. Genevieve, have you met Maisy O’Brien? My daughter,” Michele said, raising his arm for Maisy to slip under. He gripped her shoulder tightly, causing her eyes to roll. In any other setting, Gen might have found the display endearing—like a teenage daughter embarrassed by her father’s overbearing affection.

“Hello, Maisy,” Gen said with a tight, guarded smile.

Maisy’s brow furrowed, her green eyes darkening, as if she had shed all pretense and was revealing her true self. “You don’t seem surprised to see me,” she said, lips pouting. She let the bat drop from her shoulder with a loud ping that echoed through the warehouse. Suddenly, Gen was flooded with memories of that very sound—the crack of the bat hitting her skull.

Gen shrugged. “We found out yesterday.”

“Bummer,” Maisy said, shaking her head. She glanced at her father. “I was really hoping to see those wide-eyed doe looks of yours. That’s my favorite part.”

“Later,” Michele promised, pulling her close.

“I was also hoping you’d bring my brother along,” Maisy teased, a sly curl to her lip revealing the family resemblance.

“Emmett was busy, I’m afraid.”

“Not that brother,” Maisy whined.

“I know who you mean,” Gen hissed. “Conor has other business besides watching me kill his father,” she added, her eyes flicking back to Michele. “He really wanted to be here, though.”

Michele’s gaze narrowed. “Conor is still my son. He will still receive my inheritance. He remains my second.”

“How does that work?” Leo asked, the question hanging heavy in the air.

“What do you think this has all been about?” Michele replied, gesturing dramatically around them.

“He’s about to unveil his villainous plan,” Gen whispered to Leo, who chuckled. “Uh, power?” she ventured, raising a hand like a contestant on a game show. “Oh! Maybe a desperate need to prove his manhood?”

“To prove he has a dick?” Leo added with a grin.

Gen nudged him with her elbow. “That was a good one.”

“Thanks,” Leo said proudly.

Michele’s glare cut sharply between them. “The first answer was correct.”

“Ahhh,” Gen said, smiling at Leo, proud she’d guessed right.

“Lucky guess,” he replied.

“Maisy came to me about a year ago,” Michele began, pacing slowly. Gen caught Alessio’s eye, watching him roll his eyes in irritation. “I knew I had a child, but not much about them. Their mother was married. I was grieving then.” Gen stifled a laugh, feeling Michele’s glare burn the side of her face. “When Maisy told me how the O’Briens treated her, I knew I had to act.”

“How you were treated?” Gen asked Maisy.

“I’m the product of an affair. How do you think I was treated?” Maisy snapped.

“I’ve never seen Emmett treat you with anything but respect,” Gen responded.

“Emmett doesn’t know,” Maisy said quietly.

“Wow, that’s…”

“He was no better,” Maisy interrupted, taking a deep breath as if preparing to vent. “I was used as a fucking spy. Do you know how many men they sent me to? What I was forced to do to get information?” She stepped forward, knuckles white around the bat. “I was supposed to seduce Matteo. That’s why I was at the luncheon. Unfortunately, he brought you—and pissed all over you right in front of my brother.”

Alessio raised an eyebrow, and Gen rolled her eyes.

“That didn’t…” Gen started.

“I was glad, actually. One less guy to fall asleep on me,” Maisy continued. “Then at the track opening, I was supposed to try again. Fucking idiots. I knew Accardi was a lost cause. Men never see that. When he brought you again, I was sent to that Brooks character.”

“Paul?” Gen asked.

“Yeah,” Maisy flicked her red hair behind her shoulder. “Useless. No valuable information. Waste of lube and time.”

Gen wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“I was a whore for the last decade. James O’Brien—the man who raised me,” she said air-quoting the last part, “hated me. I reminded him of his wife’s betrayal and why he killed her.”

“Why keep you around?” Gen asked, still stunned by the mafia family’s twisted dynamics.

“Have you not been listening?” Maisy stepped closer. “Not only would people think James weak because his wife strayed, I was used as a whore, Genevieve. By more than just men outside my family.”

Gen’s stomach clenched, bile rising. “I’m sorry.”

Maisy’s deadly glare softened into a smile. “Don’t be. I’ll get what’s coming to me soon enough.”

“Exactly,” Michele resumed, reclaiming control. “She’ll inherit Accardi’s business, and Conor will take over mine. That way, both my children carry on the Galante name and make us legendary.”

Alessio sighed deeply. “You’re destroying centuries of peace, Michele. For nothing.”

Michele whipped his head toward Alessio. “Peace? There’s never been peace between our families, you naïve child. This split happened when our ancestor chose one child over the others. I won’t make that mistake.”

“Don’t pretend this is about love for your children. You could have let Conor go with Mira. You could have let him run things and handed your empire to that bitch. Instead, you’ve schemed for power all year. We both know that little twat won’t take over Accardi’s operations. You will. You’ll run it all—then run it into the ground,” Alessio said with cold certainty.

Michele stepped so close that their chests nearly touched. “You’re right. I’ll take over Accardi’s tracks, casinos, clubs—but I won’t ruin them. I already have the connections I need, especially with Maisy backing me. Her brother will fall in line at the tracks, then we’ll spread to the rest of the operations. I’ll push my drugs through Accardi’s spots and make a killing. Want to know what’s next?”

“Let me guess…”

“I’m coming for the Palladinos. I’m coming for you. I’ll reclaim what my ancestors left behind. I’ll be unstoppable.”

Alessio’s eyes flicked over Michele’s shoulder to Gen, whose breath was sharp and quick. He nodded. “I think we’ve heard enough. Gen?”

She glanced at Maisy, gripping her bat tighter. “Let’s do this.”