His Mafia Rose

Present Day…

Caspian

The man I'd been waiting for signaled his presence with three firm knocks on my car window.

I turned down the classical music I had cranked up to generate background noise in a rush. I turned slowly, eyes squinting as I surveyed the dark form outside the tinted glass. My driver, knowing my commands already, opened the door and exchanged places with the guest of honor. And then Valentine slid in, folding his body into the leather seat beside me.

Valentine was my best man and closest confidant. I had dispatched him 6 months prior to uncover some dirt on mine and Genesis' families. I wanted to know what my father might be hiding, and what he was not even aware of.

"Did you find out anything?" My tone was quiet, biting. Smooth, with a blade concealed beneath every word.

Valentine did not reply immediately. He breathed softly, the air thick. Then, with deliberate tranquility, he reached into his coat and produced a glistening tablet. He flipped it on and extended it silently to me, his eyes holding mine.

The glow from the screen lit up my face with cold flame as I set it down. I didn't blink as the files advanced, page by page. Data scrolled on the glass in cold, condemning letters. Message extraction. Call logs. Hidden attachments. Confidential reports. The names hit like punches to the chest. Kia Moretti. Dominic Fernandez.

I sat to read, and with each stroke of my finger, the rage building inside me coiled tighter. The tryst was not a single error or momentary lapse of judgment; it had persisted. Spoiling under our noses all these years. Love letters in secret masquerading as professional notes, veiled conversations that had lasted months to unravel, money siphoned in hushed tones; hushed enough to almost be ignored, but not quite.

But not just the affair that choked me. It was the tone.

He had loved her. Cared for her. Looked out for her. Even in the possession of a soul capable of such monstrosities, Dominic had been tender.

My jaw locked, bones crunching as I read the exchange:

"I can't keep doing this, Dom".

"We don't have to stop, Kia. You know it"

"You don't realize what's at risk. If they discover…"

"I'll make it go away".

No, you can't. You don't know what my husband is capable of."

The words echoed in my head. All lines bled. Her fear was real, tangible; chiseled between the strokes of punctuation. I drew in through my nostrils, slowly, deliberately, as I fought to let go of my grip on the tablet. I had not been aware of what I waited for when I began to dig into them; some whispered impropriety, maybe. But this… this was betrayal wrapped in love, wrapped in fear.

"How long had this been going on for?" I finally spoke, my tone level and measured, almost insidiously calm.

Valentine nodded once. "Years," he concurred. "This was no lapse of weakness. He was dedicated. And she; Kia; she was scared."

Scared.

Scared of whom?

The answer seared itself into my brain like hot branding iron: Richard.

But I knew better than to believe it ended there. Her fear had not been born from violence; it had been fueled by the secrets she kept. There was more. I could feel it. It hummed in the silence that followed. I lifted my eyes to Valentine's and let the coldness in my look do the talking.

"What else?"

Valentine paused; but only for a moment. Then, slowly, he breathed in.

"Their letters stopped," he said to me. "A few days before your betrothal."

My own hands clenched harder around the edge of the tablet as I looked down at the most recent message timestamp. My Betrothal.

"And that's not all," Valentine spoke, his voice lowering.

I slowly raised my eyes, suspicion tensing every muscle in my frame.

"What?"

There was a silence; one that seemed to drag on and on. And then he gave me a second briefing.

"Surprisingly; utterly unrelated. But. Your father has an illegitimate child."

The words hadn't taken root. They'd spun around my head like fog, bending, whispering, and unwinding all that I thought I had known. My father. Holland Graves. The man who controlled the underworld of London in a stranglehold. The man who cultivated legacy on blood and violence.

He'd had an illegitimate child.

I sat bolt upright for a full second, the thought digging into my spine like a rusty nail.

I had always believed I was the sole one. The sole son. The sole heir to his kingdom. And now, the ground beneath that fantasy collapsed. Reality broke.

My hand on the tablet turned bone-white. "Tell me everything."

Valentine, to his credit, did not falter. He leaned back, his words measured and sure.

"The investigator followed money movements; silent money movements, all filtered through offshore accounts. The money does not go to any named member of the Graves family. It goes into a trust. An active trust for over two decades."

I did not answer, just nodded once for him to continue.

"It coincides with a series of trips Holland took to Italy; Moretti territory."

My breath was caught in my throat. Naturally.

Moretti.

It was more than a tryst. It was deliberate. Political. Land-based.

My father never did something without intent.

If this child was connected to that line… then this wasn't some common bastard child. This was a possible heir. Threat. Or asset. Depending on who had the control?

My voice turned cold. "Who is it?"

Valentine's head nodded, his lips drawn into a thin line. "We don't know yet. The paper trail dies before a name appears. But whoever they are, they've gone to great lengths to keep themselves hidden."

I leaned back slowly, the leather creaking underneath my movement. The coldness of realization gathered in my chest like ice water.

I'd spent my entire life preparing to take over an empire built on bloodshed. Learned every step Holland ever took. Withstood every test. Believed I was the sole one he'd chosen to continue his lineage.

And now, that seat teetered in uncertainty.

I wasn't afraid.

I was hungry.

A slow, cutting smile spread across my face. My hands tapped the tablet in a staccato rhythm.

"Find out who he is," I instructed him, my tone honeyed poison. "And bring me everything there is on Dominic. All the skeletons he believed he left behind. I want to dig them all up. I want to be the one to watch his name come crashing down, brick by brick."

Valentine nodded stiffly. No doubt. No hesitation.

Then, as if having arrived, he vanished into the shadows, swallowed by the city's pulse.

I remained seated in the dark brilliance, the tablet growing warm in my hand, my whiskey untouched. The city was aflame outside the glass. And in me, a spark was ignited anew.