I Gave a Mafia Boss’s Mother Her Medication—Then He Walked In and Asked, “What Mistake Did You Stop Her From Making?”

The library felt like a vacuum. All the air had been sucked out of the room.

“That’s impossible,” I said, my voice trembling. “My grandmother raised my father. She lived in Ohio her whole life.”

“No, she didn’t,” Maria said softly, wiping her eyes. “Eleanor was my nanny. Forty years ago. She took care of Antonio when he was an infant.”

Antonio stared at me, his hard exterior cracking for a fraction of a second. “Your grandmother was Elly? The woman who used to sing me to sleep?”

“She left us suddenly,” Maria continued, her voice thick with old sorrow. “Right after my husband started having... troubles with Vincenzo. We thought she ran because she was scared.”

“She didn’t run from fear,” I said, my mind racing, piecing together the timeline. “She left because she was pregnant. With my father.”

The room went dead silent.

If my grandmother had been working for the Russo family when she got pregnant, and she fled without a word, hiding in Ohio for the rest of her life…

“Who was my grandfather?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Nobody answered. Antonio looked away. Dante closed his eyes.

“We don’t have time for the past,” Antonio said suddenly, his voice hardening back into the boss of the family. He pointed to the address on the back of the photo. “You said you recognize this handwriting?”

“It’s Sal. The kitchen manager at Bellarosa,” I said, eager to shift the focus away from my family’s secrets. “He writes his fours exactly like that.”

“Then we go to Bellarosa,” Antonio said, grabbing his coat. “Dante, stay here and protect Mother. Sophie, you’re with me. You know the restaurant layout better than my men.”

“I’m not a soldier!” I protested.

“You’re family now,” Antonio said grimly. “Whether you want to be or not.”

We drove back into the city in the dead of night. The restaurant was dark, closed off with police tape from the earlier incident, though Antonio’s men had already cleared the local cops away.

We slipped in through the alley loading dock. The smell of stale garlic and old wine hung in the air.

“Stay behind me,” Antonio whispered, drawing a sleek black handgun from his holster.

We crept through the stainless-steel kitchen. The walk-in freezer hummed loudly. As we passed the manager's tiny office, a floorboard creaked above us.

Someone was upstairs in the private dining loft.

Antonio gestured for me to stay put by the stairs. He moved up the steps like a ghost. I heard a scuffle, a heavy thud, and a sharp cry of pain.

“Get down here!” Antonio barked.

I ran up the stairs. Antonio had Marco pinned to the floor, a gun pressed to the waiter's temple. Marco’s face was bruised, likely from his fight with Dante.

“Where is Sal?” Antonio demanded.

“He’s dead,” Marco spat, blood on his teeth. “Vincenzo had him killed an hour ago. Tying up loose ends.”

“Why did you try to kill my mother?”

Marco laughed, a wet, horrible sound. “Because she knows where the ledger is! Vincenzo needs it destroyed before the Commission meeting tomorrow.”

“What ledger?” Antonio pressed the gun harder.

Marco reached into his pocket with trembling fingers. Antonio tensed, ready to shoot, but Marco slowly pulled out a small, velvet pouch. He tossed it at my feet.

“Open it, nurse,” Marco sneered.

I picked it up. Inside was a heavy, ornate baptism rosary made of black onyx.

“That’s my father’s rosary,” Antonio said, his face paling.

“Look at the clasp,” Marco coughed.

I turned the silver clasp over. Engraved in tiny letters were three words.