In the labyrinthine underbelly of the mafia, Romero Zaviero has been an enigma. As the only Made Man who seldom graces the high-profile gatherings of the Cosa Nostra's elite, his inscrutable presence looms in the darkest corners. His motives are con...
"You sons of bitches, I've got a family." - Johnny Dio.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I see the metal gates of the mansion swing open ahead, the house itself looming stark white against the cloudy, grey sky, a facade concealing the layers of darkness it held. Despite Aiyla's determined efforts to strip away the pain and trauma that had festered within these walls, the memories remained etched in every corner.
Regardless of the new color of the walls, the wallpaper she painstakingly handpicked, and the furniture she replaced, I remembered every single minute detail of the gruesome activities that went on for years in this hell hole.
This house had been a silent witness to the horrors of the past, passed down through generations like an insidious legacy.
The men at the black metal gates and those patrolling the Sabelli Mansion greet me with cautious yet intrigued glances, their curiosity evident. My return after five years has certainly piqued their interest.
Parking my car on the driveway, I stride toward the house, sensing their unspoken questions—a silent interest behind my reappearance. However, they knew better than to allow their curiosity to endanger their lives. Or I would start playing whack-a-mole with my Glock.
With my goon stationed by the door, he lets me in. I hang my jacket on the stand, place my keys in the bowl, and exchange my combat heels for flats.
Making a beeline for the kitchen, I retrieve the file from its hidden nook—an old secret spot where I used to stash snacks as a little girl, now tasked with holding weightier secrets.
The file, containing the marriage details, had seemed inconsequential just five days ago. My primary focus had been on the mountain of files pertaining to my business operations.
Amid my duties as the Dona, I wasted no time. I immediately convened meetings with my soldiers, informants, drug trade partners, and an extensive network of allies. My quick focus on business matters had been a deliberate display, intended to quell any doubts and reaffirm my unshakable leadership.
During these crucial meetings, I left no stone unturned, diving into the intricate details of our drug smuggling operations. I emphasized the need to optimize our routes, ensuring they were not only efficient but also fortified with heightened security measures.
I personally oversaw the reopening of the three of our New York Ports as a key entry point for shipping containers, making it clear that we were reclaiming our dominance in the illicit trade.
Moreover, I spared no expense in bolstering our manpower and security apparatus. I reinforced our ranks with skilled and loyal individuals, ensuring that every aspect of our operations was staffed by capable hands. This move aimed to eliminate any vulnerabilities and maintain an iron grip on our operations.
The message to all involved was crystal clear: the somewhat lenient atmosphere that Aiyla might have allowed was over. There was no room for error, and every member of our network understood the gravity of the situation or else their life would pay for it.
