THE DON'S FORGOTTEN HEIR

The Devil's Deal

The safe house was silent when Dante walked in.

Enzo was behind him, hands tied, eyes down. The old man had said nothing during the long walk through the tunnels. He just followed, defeated, a king without a kingdom.

Blair was already there. She sat in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, her face bruised but her eyes alert. She looked at Dante, then at Enzo, and her expression hardened.

"You brought him here," she said.

"I had no choice."

"He killed your mother. He killed your father. He killed—"

"I know." Dante's voice was sharp. "I know what he did. But he's more useful alive than dead."

Troy stepped forward. His hand was on his gun.

"Let me kill him," he said. "Right now. One bullet. It's what he deserves."

"No."

"He tortured Sloan. He burned your family alive. He—"

"I said no." Dante turned to face Troy. "He has information we need. About O'Malley. About the Irish. About everything."

"I don't care about information. I care about justice."

"This is justice." Dante walked to Enzo and pulled the list from his pocket. "He's going to help us take down O'Malley. Then he's going to stand trial. Then he's going to rot in a cell for the rest of his life."

Troy stared at him. "That's not justice. That's politics."

"It's strategy." Dante met his eyes. "We can't win this war without him. O'Malley is too powerful. He has people everywhere—cops, judges, politicians. We need someone who knows how he operates."

"And you trust him?"

"No. But I trust his self-interest. He wants to survive. He wants to avoid prison. So he'll talk."

Troy was silent for a long moment. Then he shook his head.

"This is a mistake. You're making a deal with the devil."

"Maybe. But I'm not the one holding the gun."

Troy looked at Enzo. The old man was watching them, his eyes cold and calculating.

"If he betrays us," Troy said, "I'll kill him myself."

"Fair enough."

Dante led Enzo to a chair and sat him down. Nyla was already at the table, her laptop open, ready to record.

"Start talking," Dante said. "Tell us everything you know about O'Malley."

Enzo laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound.

"You think I know everything? O'Malley doesn't tell anyone everything. He's a ghost. Even I only know pieces."

"Then tell us the pieces."

Enzo leaned back. His eyes flickered to Nyla—his daughter—and something passed between them. Something cold.

"O'Malley has been planning this for thirty years," Enzo said. "He started with my father—your grandfather. He wanted control of the docks. He wanted the shipping routes. He wanted the city."

"And he used you to get it."

"He used everyone. He used me. He used your father. He used the Gallos. He used the Commission." Enzo's voice was bitter. "He's a spider. And we're all flies in his web."

"How do we kill a spider?"

"You don't. You burn the web."

Dante leaned forward. "What web?"

"People. Assets. Safe houses. Money trails." Enzo looked at him. "O'Malley has a list too. A list of everyone who works for him. But it's not written down. It's in his head."

"So we can't find it."

"No. But there's one person who can."

"Who?"

Enzo was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke.

"His daughter."

Dante frowned. "O'Malley has a daughter?"

"Her name is Sable. She's his only child. She runs his operations in Europe—arms dealing, money laundering, human trafficking. She's more dangerous than he is."

"And she would know about the list?"

"She would know everything." Enzo's eyes gleamed. "But she'll never betray her father. She's loyal. Fanatically loyal."

"Then how do we get to her?"

Enzo smiled. It was a cold, calculating smile.

"She has one weakness."

"What?"

"Her brother."

Dante stared at him. "O'Malley has a son too?"

"Had. He died ten years ago. A car bomb meant for O'Malley. Sable witnessed it. She's been hunting the people responsible ever since."

"Who was responsible?"

Enzo's smile widened. "The Commission. Your father voted for the hit. Sable knows it. She's been waiting for the right moment to strike."

Dante's blood ran cold. "You're saying she'll want revenge on my family."

"I'm saying she'll want revenge on anyone who carries the Rosetti name." Enzo leaned forward. "But if you can convince her that O'Malley orchestrated the hit—that her father killed her brother—she'll turn on him."

"And you think she'll believe me?"

"I think she'll believe the evidence." Enzo looked at the list. "Your father's list. It has O'Malley's name on it. And a note. A note that proves he ordered the hit on his own son."

---

Dante read the note three times.

It was written in his father's handwriting—elegant, precise, careful. It described a meeting between O'Malley and two Commission members. It described a deal: the Rosettis would vote for the hit on O'Malley's son, and in exchange, O'Malley would withdraw his support for the Gallo family.

"It's proof," Dante said. "O'Malley killed his own son to secure an alliance."

"Bait," Nyla said. "It's bait for Sable."

"Exactly." Dante looked at Enzo. "Where can we find her?"

"She has a penthouse in Uptown. But she's not there now. She's in the city—she arrived two days ago. She's staying at the Imperial Hotel."

"She's here?" Dante's heart raced. "Why?"

"Because O'Malley called her." Enzo's voice was grim. "He knows you're coming. He's been planning for this. Sable is his insurance."

"Insurance for what?"

"For his life." Enzo met Dante's eyes. "If you kill him, she'll burn the city to the ground. She's already put plans in motion. Explosives. Hit teams. A network of sleeper agents that will activate the moment he dies."

Dante leaned back. His mind raced.

"So we can't kill him."

"No. But you can destroy him. Take away his power. Turn his own daughter against him. Make him watch as everything he built crumbles."

"How do we get to Sable?"

Enzo smiled. "You don't. I do."

---

The plan was simple.

Enzo would call Sable. He would tell her he had information about her brother's death. He would invite her to a meeting—alone. And then Dante would show her the proof.

"She won't come alone," Nyla said. "She's too careful."

"She'll come alone if I tell her it's about the hit." Enzo's voice was confident. "She's been waiting ten years for answers. She won't risk scaring off the source."

"And if she kills you?"

"Then I'm dead." Enzo shrugged. "I've been dead for twenty-five years. I just didn't know it."

Dante looked at him. The old man was calm—too calm. Like a man who had accepted his fate.

"Why are you helping me?" Dante asked. "You could just let O'Malley kill us. You could escape. You could—"

"I could." Enzo's voice was soft. "But I'm tired. I'm tired of running. I'm tired of lying. I'm tired of being a puppet."

He looked at Nyla.

"I know you hate me. I know you've hated me since you were twelve. And you're right. I deserve it. But I loved your mother. I loved you. In my own twisted way, I loved you both."

Nyla said nothing. Her face was a mask.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Enzo said. "I'm not asking for mercy. I'm just asking for the chance to do one good thing before I die."

Dante studied him. The old man was broken—beaten, tired, empty. He wasn't lying. For the first time in his life, he wasn't lying.

"Fine," Dante said. "Make the call."

Enzo picked up the phone.

---

The meeting was set for midnight at the old church on Harbor Street—the same place Dante had confronted Vance.

Sable arrived alone. She was tall, elegant, dressed in black. Her hair was silver-blonde, her eyes ice-blue. She looked like a ghost—beautiful and terrifying.

She walked into the church and stopped when she saw Dante.

"You," she said.

"Me."

"Enzo said this was about my brother."

"It is." Dante held up the note. "Your father killed him. Not the Commission. Not the Rosettis. Your father."

Sable stared at him. Her face was unreadable.

"You're lying."

"I'm not. This note was written by my father. It describes the deal—the hit on your brother in exchange for O'Malley's support."

Sable took the note. She read it. Her hands trembled.

"Where did you get this?"

"My father's safe deposit box. He kept records of everything. Including the truth."

Sable looked at Enzo. The old man was sitting on a pew, his hands tied, his eyes down.

"Is this true?"

Enzo looked up. "Yes."

"Your father ordered the hit. He told me it was the Commission. He told me—" Her voice cracked. "He told me he would avenge my brother. He told me he loved him."

"He lied." Enzo's voice was flat. "He loved power more than he loved his son. He killed my brother for the same reason. He killed everyone who stood in his way."

Sable closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her face.

"I've spent ten years hunting the wrong people," she whispered.

"I know." Dante stepped closer. "But you can make it right. Help us take him down."

"And why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to look at the evidence."

Sable opened her eyes. They were hard—cold.

"What do you want?"

"I want O'Malley. I want him exposed. I want him destroyed. And I want you to help me do it."

Sable was silent for a long moment. Then she spoke.

"He has a list. Everyone who works for him. Every asset. Every safe house. I know where it is."

"Where?"

"In his study. In a safe behind a painting of his wife."

"You can get it?"

"I can get anything." Sable smiled—a cold, dangerous smile. "But I want something in return."

"What?"

"When this is over—when my father is dead and his empire is ash—I want the Rosetti name destroyed too. I want every man who had a hand in my brother's death to pay."

Dante looked at her. He thought about his father. His mother. His family. Everything they had lost.

"I can't give you that," he said. "I'm trying to save my family's name, not destroy it."

"Then we have no deal."

Sable turned to leave.

"Wait." Dante stepped forward. "The men who voted for the hit—they're all dead. My father. The Commission members. Enzo. They're all gone."

"Not all of them." Sable turned back. "There's one left."

"Who?"

"Your uncle." She looked at Enzo. "He voted for the hit. He was there when the decision was made."

Enzo's face went pale.

"I was following orders," he said. "O'Malley threatened to kill me if I didn't—"

"You voted to kill my brother." Sable's voice was ice. "You watched him die. You knew he was innocent. And you did nothing."

Dante stepped between them.

"Enzo is mine," he said. "He's going to stand trial. He's going to rot in prison. That's his punishment."

"That's not enough."

"It's all you're going to get." Dante met her eyes. "If you want your father dead, you need me. And I need you. So let's make a deal."

Sable stared at him. The silence stretched.

Then she smiled.

"Fine," she said. "We'll do it your way. But when this is over, don't expect mercy."

"I don't expect anything."

Sable nodded. She looked at Enzo one last time, then turned and walked out of the church.

Dante watched her go. His heart was pounding.

"Can we trust her?" Nyla asked, stepping out of the shadows.

"No. But we can use her."

Dante looked at Enzo.

"One down," he said. "Two to go."