Chapter 9 - The Bloodline
I stumbled backward, bumping into the dusty wooden table.
"How do you know my real last name?" I asked, my voice trembling.
I had changed my last name to Smith when I ran away from my abusive foster home fifteen years ago.
The old man leaned heavily on his silver-tipped cane, tears welling in his harsh eyes.
"Because your mother was my only daughter," he said softly.
The room spun around me.
The head of the entire mafia Commission was my biological grandfather.
"My daughter ran away from this life because she hated the violence," he explained.
"We searched for you for decades after she died, but you vanished into the foster system."
He looked at the face of Elena, Ricardo's dead wife, framed in his memory.
"That is why you look exactly like Elena," he realized aloud.
"Elena was your older cousin."
The puzzle pieces violently clicked into place in my mind.
I was not just a random waitress who looked like a ghost.
I was mafia royalty, born directly into the most powerful family in the country.
My grandfather turned to his heavily armed men.
"Wipe Vincent's faction off the map," he ordered coldly.
"And execute every corrupt police officer on his payroll tonight."
The men nodded and left the garage to unleash absolute hell on the city.
My grandfather's personal medical team rushed into the room to save Ricardo.
They stabilized his blood loss and prepared him for immediate transport to a private hospital.
I sat on the floor, holding Leo tightly in my arms as the chaos settled.
Ricardo opened his eyes weakly as the paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher.
He reached out and grabbed my hand, his grip surprisingly strong.
"You stayed," Ricardo whispered, a tired smile crossing his face.
May you like
"I told you," I smiled back with tears in my eyes.
"He just needed someone who was willing to stay."
