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𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐲

𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕

"I want it."

My voice is loud and clear, casting an air of authority in the empty hall where my men were seated, listening to my words as if I were broadcasting above them from a podium.

"But Capo-"

One heavy look towards Enzo, my oldest cousin and my underboss, silences him.

My men knew exactly how this business was run. I command respect in every definition of the word.

With respect comes loyalty was a rule and a lesson my father had drilled into me since I was a child. When I took the reigns of our family business from him, his only son and his sole successor, I instilled that same lesson into my men.

My men were inevitably loyal to me. Their allegiance was to me and only me; any doubt in their dedication to serving me would render them dead. That was an unsigned deal of being part of the Cosa Nostra.

They also knew that when I want something, I get it.

Being head of the most powerful crime syndicate in New York left very little in the city out of my grasp.

I had ties in every company and in every organization, the illicit affairs of my syndicate hidden under the guise of businesses, clubs and casinos; and backed by justice systems that were too afraid to go against me.

I had everything any man could ever want, and everybody knew it - money, power and glory all under my belt by the time I was 27. And yet, I want more.

Out of everything in this city, the one big buck business I had not dug my claws into was Ayoub Falahi's corporation. It had started more recently than others in the city, just a decade and a half ago and had already flourished into a multibillion-dollar industry. He made profits off international partnerships and marketing. I wanted it. 

I had already tried to have his company in my hands through easy routes - aka, sending one of my men to give him a truckload of money in exchange for being a shareholder of the company. He had refused, saying it was something important to him.

The door opens and my gaze lifts to see Carlo, one of the men in the Famiglia carrying a set of files that I had instructed him to bring.

He keeps his head down and lays the documents on the table, scrambling to the side in fear so I could get a better look.

Fear was good. It kept men in line and if they were in line, my business was running well. That's all that mattered. Money, power and glory.

I scan the words on the page, taking in all of the details about Falahi; his business models, his alliances, and his personal life. He had immigrated here from Morocco a long time ago and built his empire single-handedly with no family or loved ones by his side.

He reminded me of my father - a selfish and cruel motherfucker focused on a single goal. That's the only way to succeed in this world.

My eyes fall onto his personal details, seeing an interesting detail of a secret love child, a daughter, born in Morocco that he had kept hidden from the press. How inconsequential.

My men sit in silence, with bated breaths as I get through the final documents, his legal ones that Carlo had somehow (most likely illegally), dug up.

I look through his will and his confidential statements about the company before I see something useful to me. My eyes flash back to the secret love child. Maybe not so inconsequential.

"Everyone out," I speak, loudly. "Vito stay," I gesture to my Consigliere.

Trust was a fickle thing built for weak men. Although I relied on the men who worked for me and trusted their allegiance to me, I could never trust them. They were just pawns for me to get what I want.

The only man I trusted in the Famiglia was Vito. He had worked as my father's advisor before mine and he never denies me what I want.

Within five seconds, the room had cleared. I point my finger to the name written in the documents, Falahi's daughter. The person he had written in his will to take over his company once she turns 23.

Dalia Alami.

"Her," I say. "That's my way in."

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HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS IS JUST A PROLOGUE