Her Ruthless Grand-Father: A Mafia Boss

Chapter 3

The soup felt heavier than it should have, the porcelain bowl weighing me down as I made my way to the garden. The air was thick with the heat of the afternoon, the sun blazing down on me as I stepped out into the courtyard, the stone path cool beneath my feet. I could feel the tension in my chest, like I was walking toward something that would change everything. But what? I didn’t know yet. Maybe I was being reported?

Olivia said something? God, I was getting so anxious.

Grandpa was already sitting at the stone table, his gold rings on each of his large fingers gleaming in the sun, the newspaper folded across his broad chest. His eyes were hidden behind the paper, but I knew he saw me.

I stood there for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge me, but he didn’t. His fingers tapped the edge of the paper, as though he was in his own world, as though I wasn’t even there.

“Good afternoon, Grandpa,” I said, my voice steady despite the knot in my stomach. It was almost a ritual now—me greeting him, him ignoring me.

“Put it down, sit.” His voice was gruff, uninterested, like he had more important things to do than acknowledge me.

I placed the soup down gently, the clink of the bowl against the stone table sharp in the silence. I didn’t sit immediately. I stood there, awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. Grandpa wasn’t the type to make small talk, especially not with me. He didn’t care to know how I was doing, what I thought, how I felt. I was just there—his granddaughter, his responsibility. Nothing more.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he glanced up at me, the edges of his paper folding down just slightly so that I could see his eyes, cold and calculating. “Sit.”

I took a seat at the opposite end of the table, my back straight, hands folded neatly in my lap. I waited for him to speak, waited for him to say something that might make this feel less suffocating. But he didn’t. The seconds stretched into minutes, and all I could hear was the sound of the breeze rustling through the trees and the occasional turning of his newspaper.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally set the paper aside and looked at me, his face unreadable. “How was your morning?”

That was…odd. I wasn’t sure if he genuinely cared or if he was just making conversation to fill the silence, but I answered anyway. “It was fine, thank you.” My voice sounded too loud in the quiet garden.

He nodded once, then picked up his spoon and began eating. There was no follow-up, no interest in what I had to say.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his tone dull and detached. “Clothes? Shoes?”

I shook my head, trying not to show how uncomfortable the question made me. “No, thank you, Grandpa.”

Another thing about him was he never asked about money. If I or any of my cousins needed money. Maybe he didn't want us to have that independence.

The silence stretched again, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t just the absence of conversation—it felt deliberate, like he was waiting for something. I couldn’t tell what.

He set his spoon down with a soft clink, wiping his mouth with a napkin before finally speaking again. “You’ll need more clothes.”

I blinked, not sure I’d heard him right. “What?” I asked, my voice betraying the confusion I felt.

“More clothes,” he repeated, not bothering to elaborate. “For a party.”

A party? I was confused. Grandpa didn’t throw parties….or are we going to one? That's even more strange, he didn’t even let me go out. This was... strange, completely out of the blue. “A party?” I repeated, trying to make sense of it.

He didn’t seem to care about my surprise. “Yes, a party. You’ll need something proper. I’ll have it arranged and ready by evening.”

I couldn’t hide the shock on my face. Grandpa had never mentioned anything about a party, never hinted at anything that would pull me out of this house, away from the routine, the lessons, the confinement. He was always so strict about everything, about keeping me here, under his watchful eye.

“But... why?” I asked, my voice small. Did something happen?

Grandpa leaned back in his chair, his wrinkled eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was trying to figure me out. “You don’t need to ask questions, Leah,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Just do as you’re told.”

I wanted to argue, wanted to ask why all of a sudden he was allowing this, why I had to go to a party of all things, but I didn’t. I knew better than to question him, especially when his mind was made up.

I sat there, trying to process the words, but they didn’t make sense. I had no idea what to expect anymore. This wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever known. I feel like something was wrong.

“You’ll be ready,” he said, his gaze flicking over to me once more, his tone colder now. “Take this and go now.”

The finality of his words crushed any hope of questioning him further.

I nodded once, not trusting myself to speak, and then began to stand. I picked up the bowl of soup, feeling the weight of it in my hands as I turned to leave.

“Oh, and Leah?”

I turned around, half hoping he was going to explain whatever this was.

“Do your hair pretty, wear an accessory or something.” Then he practically waved me away and went back to his newspaper.