No Roses for the Mafia Wife

New York after midnight belongs to those who live in the cracks.

I took a cab to a warehouse marked with faded Conti tags. A man named Silvio met me inside. Formerly made with the Conti family, now independent. His network was called "The Whisper."

"Joanna Moretti," he said. "Heard about your situation. Rossi’s change of heart."

"Then you know what I’m holding."

I placed the encrypted drive between us.

He didn’t touch it. "Rossi heir messing with a Conti woman? Good gossip. Not explosive."

"It’s more than that."

I entered the passcode. The footage played—Alexander’s confession, the kiss, Isabella’s mocking commentary.

Silvio’s eyebrow lifted. "Okay. That’s family-meeting material. Choosing a Conti over a Moretti—that’s not just cheating. That’s betrayal."

"I want it broadcast," I said flatly. "Tomorrow. Noon sharp—when the ceremony’s supposed to start."

He whistled. "Dangerous. The Rossis will come for me."

"They’ll come for me first. By the time they look your way, I’ll be gone."

"Why not just disappear? Take the money and run quiet. Why burn it all down?"

I thought of my mother the day she left my father. The quiet dignity she wore like armor. I wasn’t like her.

Maybe I was my father’s daughter after all.

"I want them humiliated," I said, voice soft and cold. "I want every family, every associate to see Alexander Rossi for what he is—a man who betrays his own for a pretty lie. I want his name to become a punchline. I want his authority to crumble."

Silvio nodded slowly. He understood. This wasn’t just revenge. It was a hit. A political one.

"Price?"

"Half a mil. And safe passage to Palermo—papers, transport, protection until I’m on Sicilian soil."

He laughed, dry and raspy. "You think I’m a travel agency?"

"I think you know people who can make a woman disappear. Especially a woman carrying Rossi secrets that could start a war."

His smile faded.

"The money," he said slowly. "You got it?"

I slid Alexander’s black Centurion card across the table. "His personal account. He won’t notice the withdrawal until it’s too late."

"He’ll freeze the card."

"Not if it looks like a last-minute wedding expense," I said. "I’ve spent seven years learning how to move money in this world, Silvio. How to make a large withdrawal look like a vendor payment. Now I’m using that knowledge against him."

He stared at me, then nodded. "Noon tomorrow. Every screen in Little Italy. Every dark web forum the families watch. Every encrypted feed."

"Good."

I stood to leave, body aching from exhaustion and the fresh cut on my temple.

"Joanna."

I didn’t turn.

"He’ll hunt you," Silvio said quietly. "Not because he loves you. Because you made him look weak. And in our world, weakness is the only unforgivable sin."

I glanced back, meeting his eyes in the dim warehouse light.

"Let him."