The Mafia's Mute Wife

CHAPTER 3

Riccardo’s POV

One Week Before

"You know we won't rest until the last one of them stops breathing." I clung to Aunt Fiona as our family slowly made their way to their cars, each saying their final farewell to Uncle Brody. Only the closest Byrne family members were left now, which was still around three dozen people. Hundreds had come to pay respects, including my grandparents, who'd traveled an hour from the city despite rarely leaving their house anymore.

Uncle Brody's widow shook with quiet sobs, and it stirred something fierce in me. I wanted to set the whole city ablaze.

The Albanians had put five bullets into Brody's chest outside one of our clubs. We had retaliated quickly, taking out several of their men, but they were like cockroaches—never-ending. We knew this wasn’t the last of it.

"Come on, Ma. Let’s get you home." Oran, the eldest of Brody and Fiona's kids wrapped an arm around his mom, nodded at me in gratitude, then led her to their car.

As they walked away, my Uncle Jimmy moved up beside me. While my dad and his two brothers had brought our family’s organization back from the shadows, Jimmy was the unspoken leader. He was my godfather and the man I looked up to most. Dad was important to me, no doubt, but Jimmy had a certain something that set him apart. His presence brought calm to any situation. Growing up, I’d studied him, trying to learn from every little thing he did. Now, as an adult, I strive each day to make him proud.

“This never would’ve happened fifty years ago.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. "Back when the Irish ruled Hell’s Kitchen, no one dared cross us.”

“I wasn’t around then, but I’ve seen what you’ve built in the past ten years. We're almost as powerful as Paddy and the others were back then—all thanks to you."

“We’re making progress, but others still see us as weak. That’s why they targeted us. They wouldn’t dare pull something like this on the Italians or Russians.” Jimmy began walking toward the street, and I fell into step beside him. "What does that tell you about us? It says they think we’re easy prey. A target." He stopped, his voice dropping to a rumble like distant thunder. "This has to change."

I met his steely gaze with steady resolve. "Just tell me what you need, and I'll make it happen."

With a slight nod of approval, he continued. "So, how did your dinner go with the Italians? I didn’t get the chance to ask with everything that’s been happening."

The night my uncle was shot, I’d been at a dinner Jimmy had insisted on. I was meeting my birth mother for the first time. She was Italian, and not just any Italian—she was a Genovese, married to Edoardo Genovese, consigliere to the Lucciano family. While Brody was lying in the street, I was stuck at a dinner like some family reunion. It tore me up that I hadn’t been there for Brody, but Jimmy had been adamant about me attending. He believed this meeting was meant to be—a step toward uniting the Irish and Italians in a powerful alliance.

I wasn’t convinced.

But I trusted Jimmy and was ready to do whatever he needed.

"It went better than I expected. Edoardo Genovese recognized the place I chose was tied to our family, yet he still came." The dinner wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d feared. Still, I had no desire to build any close connection with my Italian relatives, though my half-sisters were surprisingly entertaining.

“That sounds like a good start.”

“Good start to what?” I asked, a sense of unease creeping in.

Jimmy stopped, fixing me with an intense stare. “I know your past isn’t easy, Riccardo. That’s natural. But you’re Byrne now, through and through. The Italians can’t change that.”

I knew he was right logically, but the reality felt different. Aside from being adopted, I wasn’t even a Byrne by name. My mom was the only sister in the Byrne family, and her married name was Reid. In my mind, that small detail set me apart from my cousins. Bringing up my Italian heritage just made things more complicated.

“I get what you’re saying. Doesn’t mean I’m eager to hang out with them.”

Jimmy’s expression hardened. “Might be time to rethink that, son. We’ve got an opportunity here—a way to ally ourselves with some of the most powerful families in the city. Imagine what that could mean for us.”

I stopped, staring at him. “What exactly are you hinting at?”

He straightened, taking a deep breath, then spoke words that would change my life forever.

“A marriage. The Irish and Italians united through holy matrimony.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. His words knocked the air out of me, turning my world on its head.

“You want … me … to marry … an Italian?” I struggled even to say it.

“I know it’s not what you’d choose, Riccardo, but this is an opportunity like no other. An alliance like this could solidify our standing in this city and ensure our survival. Think about it. What if other groups see what the Albanians did and decide they want to come for us too? We can’t fight them all off alone but with the Italians at our side...” He let the idea hang, but I knew what he was getting at. With the Italians’ five ruling families backing us, we'd be a force no one could easily challenge.

An alliance like this would be monumental, and I was the key to making it happen. I should’ve felt proud to be so important to my family, yet a small voice in my mind kept suggesting that my Irish family was just looking for a way to get rid of me. Not quite Irish, not quite Italian—I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere.

Enough whining. Grow up. Who cares if you don’t like the idea?

Jimmy was right. This was big, and I owed it to my family to do whatever they needed.

_________________________

Three days later, we found ourselves at a long, cozy lunch table with the Genovese brothers, Edoardo and Enzo. Enzo was a big deal—head of the Lucciano family and the main guy in charge of the Italian Commission. Jimmy had talked to them after the funeral, and to my utter surprise, they’d actually agreed to listen to our plan. I’d never thought they’d go for it. What could they possibly gain from teaming up with us? But, the next day, they reached out, asking for a sit-down, and I was still trying to wrap my head around it all.

"Gentlemen," Jimmy greeted warmly when they arrived at the table. "It’s truly a pleasure to have you both here with us. I wasn’t quite sure how our little proposal would go over, so having you here is a real honor. Edoardo, you already know my nephew, Riccardo. But I’m not sure if Enzo’s had the pleasure yet."

I stood up, shaking hands with both men. "It’s a real pleasure to meet you."

Enzo gave a nod. "You’ve brought my sister-in-law some peace by agreeing to this meeting. I know it couldn’t have been easy. We won’t forget it. As for lunch, well, it’s always nice to sit down with respectable men like yourselves."

"So, you’re willing to meet with us," Jimmy said, his eyes twinkling a bit. "But does that mean you’re actually open to what I proposed?"

Enzo held his answer until the server had taken our orders. We’d picked a little spot on neutral ground, so nobody felt out of place, but it also meant we had to be extra careful about our words with strangers around.

“Yes, we’re intrigued,” Enzo finally replied, leaning in a little. "We’ve tried to keep it under wraps, so you might not have heard, but the Sonora Cartel has been stirring up trouble on our turf."

Jimmy and I exchanged a look. Cartels moving in on the East Coast? That was good news and bad news, at that.

"We handled the worst of the problems," Enzo went on. "But there’s no telling if the next guy who steps up will keep pushing into our territory. Edoardo and I figured that strengthening our alliances might be in everyone’s best interests. Plus"—his gaze zeroed in on me—"we want Riccardo to know he’s got family at this table."

I blinked, taken aback. I hadn’t seen that coming. Italians had a reputation for sticking strictly to their own. And me? I was an outsider through and through—raised by the Irish, not even knowing who my father was. The idea of the Genoveses welcoming me in was nothing short of wild.

“You honor me,” I managed, trying to sound less surprised than I felt.

Enzo gave a small, approving smile. "Good. Now, if we’re all on the same page, let’s get down to business." He gestured to Edoardo, who pulled out a leather folder and handed me a neat stack of papers.

And just like that, reality hit me square in the gut. A part of me had assumed this meeting would be all talk, with nothing really coming out of it. But as I held the papers and glanced at the pages, the gravity of it settled. My stomach did a little twist as I started flipping through blurry photos on standard paper. Each photo had a blurb beside it—family background, and some basic details. It felt like shopping for a car, not finding a partner.

Could I seriously do this? Could I tie myself to some Italian Mafia princess I’d never even met?

Good grief.

I tried to focus as I skimmed the faces, keeping myself calm until I reached the very last page. I paused, eyes catching on a striking young woman glancing over her shoulder at the camera. Sure, all the women were good-looking, but something about her stood out. It was like she could see straight through the lens, almost.

"You’ll want to take her out of the pile," Edoardo chimed in, breaking my thoughts. "She shouldn’t have been included in the first place."

"Is she seeing someone?" I asked, half-curious.

"No, she was in a bad car crash about six months back. Her mother didn’t survive, and Aria’s vocal cords got pretty damaged. She can’t speak now, and from what I hear, she’s been holed up at home since it happened. Her father shouldn’t have added her to the list."

Mute? That was... unexpected. Her age was listed as twenty—eight years younger than me. Quite a gap, sure, but not a deal-breaker.

"Any other injuries? Scars?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"None that I know of," Edoardo replied thoughtfully.

Just how traumatized was she? Sure, I didn’t want a mess of drama, but a quiet wife, now that sounded appealing. I could go about my business, and she’d have her peace too. For the first time since Jimmy had mentioned an alliance, a glimmer of hope sparked.

"I’d like to know more," I murmured, still looking at her photo.

"Are you sure that’s what you want?" Enzo asked, his tone a bit wary.

I set the papers down and met his gaze, steady. "I won’t know until I meet her, but she’s beautiful. If her father agrees, and she’s open to it, I’d be happy to move forward."

"Understood," Enzo nodded, a subtle bow of acknowledgment. "I’ll have more details for you by the end of today."

I lifted my wine glass, smiling as I raised it. "To a strong alliance, gentlemen, and a future of new possibilities."

And to Aria Mancini—wherever you are, get ready. Life is about to change.