My five-year-old daughter gave her last bottle of water to an old woman everyone else ignored on a Manhattan sidewalk. The next morning, a Moretti crest appeared on our apartment door, and I realized the stranger Mia had helped was the mother of a Mafia boss.

I froze completely, terrified to even breathe as the cold steel pressed harder against my skin.

"Your son is bleeding to death in the bunker, and Isabella is working with the Falcones to kill him," I rushed the words out in a single breath.

The pressure of the shotgun barrel instantly vanished from my neck.

I turned slowly to see Rosa Moretti, the fragile old woman from the sidewalk, standing tall and furious.

She wasn't trembling anymore, and her eyes burned with a terrifying, absolute authority.

"I knew that wretched girl was poisoning my tea, but I didn't think she had the stomach for a full coup," Rosa growled.

She walked briskly to her massive walk-in closet and kicked aside a false floorboard, revealing a heavily stocked medical bag.

"Grab the bag, Elena, we have a family business to clean up," she ordered, racking the shotgun with a terrifyingly loud clack.

I grabbed the heavy red trauma bag and followed the mafia matriarch out into the darkened hallway.

We could hear heavy combat boots stomping aggressively up the grand marble staircase toward us.

"Hide in that alcove," Rosa commanded, stepping boldly out into the open corridor.

Three Falcone hitmen reached the landing, raising their automatic weapons when they saw the old woman.

"Where is your son, you old witch?" the lead assassin demanded mockingly.

Rosa didn't say a single word in response.

She simply raised the massive twelve-gauge shotgun and pulled the trigger, blasting the lead man entirely off his feet.

The other two men completely panicked, scrambling backward down the stairs as Rosa pumped another shell into the chamber.

"Go to Adrian now!" she yelled over the deafening echo of the gunshot.

I sprinted down the back servant stairs, clutching the heavy medical bag tightly to my chest.

I burst out into the gardens and scrambled toward the hidden bunker hatch as fast as my tired legs could carry me.

Just as I reached out to open the hidden panel, a cold hand clamped down brutally on my shoulder.

The Mafia Boss Asked a Disabled Widow If She Was Okay

“Who taught you those words?”

“SIR... MY MOMMY NEEDS A BOYFRIEND.”

Isabella spun me around, pressing the barrel of a pistol directly between my eyes.

"Did you really think you could outsmart me, you pathetic cleaning lady?" she hissed triumphantly.

Chapter 8 - The Matriarch's Wrath