He Killed My Mentor, I Reveal My Mafia Power

Chapter 2

For three days, Lucian didn’t come home once.

Not even for Gianni’s funeral.

No flowers. No message. Nothing.

I buried the man who had been like a father to me alone in a quiet cemetery in Queens.

It rained that day.

I stood there for a long time.

I didn’t cry.

I had already cried everything out the moment I saw that video.

What was left was something colder.

Clarity.

Like ice water slowly sinking into my spine.

Before leaving, I placed Gianni’s old silver lighter into my coat pocket.

Cold metal. Familiar weight.

After a while, it warmed against my palm—as if he were still there.

"Wait for me," I whispered at his grave. "I’ll make them pay. Every last one of them."

He was the first person who ever held my hand when I was a frightened child dropped into the Castellano world.

He was the one who protected me when I tried to run away and build a new life.

And for five years, he was the only reason my hidden orders reached the right hands safely.

Lucian didn’t care who he cut off.

He just wanted the line gone.

Never bothering to ask who was on the other end.

On the fourth day, Camille came.

She walked in wearing the heels I had given her last year, sat across from me like she owned the place, and crossed her legs.

On her finger was my mother’s emerald ring.

My breath stopped.

That ring had belonged to the Castellano family for three generations.

And I had taken it with me when I left home.

Lucian thought it was just an “old piece of jewelry.”

Camille noticed my stare and smiled, slowly lifting her hand.

"Pretty, isn’t it? Lucian said you don’t need it anymore."

"I won’t blame you," she sighed dramatically. "Love is complicated."

"If you’re smart, you’ll just wish us well. Don’t make this ugly."

I looked at the ring on her finger.

Then I smiled.

"Camille," I said softly, "do you know what that ring is worth?"

She hesitated.

"It doesn’t matter if you don’t," I stood up slowly. "One day, you’ll give it back to me yourself. With interest."

"And I hope," I added, "you’re still smiling when that happens."

The door opened.

Lucian walked in.

He immediately stepped between us.

"What the hell are you doing now?" he snapped at me. "Camille came to see you out of kindness."

I looked at him shielding her.

And something inside me went completely still.

Five years ago, he promised I was the only one he would ever protect.

Now he was defending the woman wearing my mother’s ring.

"Fine," I said. "You want a divorce? You’ve got it."

"But I’m taking everything back."

"Everything—including that ring."

Lucian laughed.

"You? Take anything back?"

I didn’t answer.

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, my old phone vibrated.

A message.

"Welcome back, Principessa. You don’t have to fight this war alone. — R.M."

I stared at the initials.

In all of New York, only a handful of people even knew who I really was.

And I did not know this one.

Not even a guess.