My Husband Betrayed Me — I Took His Empire Chapter 03

My Husband Betrayed Me — I Took His Empire Chapter 03

The next morning, Luca Russo sat in the dining room drinking his black coffee before leaving.

He put down the newspaper and said, “Keep an eye on the Feast of the Seven Fishes preparations next week. It’s my first year hosting it. Don’t let anything go wrong.”

He cleared his throat, then added, “There’s also an important guest. Arrange a seat for her at the main table.”

“Guest?”

I looked up.

“Who is it?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just save a seat.”

A cold smile touched my lips internally.

Who else could it be?

That woman.

As he reached the door, he turned back.

“Things have been unstable outside lately. The Irish have been making more moves.”

His tone was calm, as if he were discussing nothing more than the weather.

I nodded.

Then he left.

The car tracker showed that he had gone to Eastside Casino the day before.

But inside the pocket of his navy suit, I found a rental receipt.

The location was the building next to Warehouse 7.

The tenant’s name was a fake identity used by a Capo from The Irish Mob’s Westside branch.

The date was last Thursday.

Last Thursday, Luca had told me he was at Eastside Casino handling financial matters.

I took a picture of the receipt and placed it back exactly where it had been.

Then I sat on the edge of the bed, staring out at the courtyard.

Most of the maple leaves outside had already turned yellow.

Ten years ago, it had been the same season.

Back then, I had just returned from college.

Luca Russo was only an Enforcer on the outskirts of the Valentino family.

His superior was branch Capo Mario Caruso.

Caruso had been manipulating the books and secretly working with a Mexican organization.

Don Enzo discovered everything.

That night, Don Enzo called me into his study.

“Sofia, how do you think this should be handled?”

I looked at him and answered.

“Caruso is your old friend. If you personally take him down, people will lose faith.”

I paused.

“Find someone else to do it. Someone who isn’t a member of the Valentino family. That way, no one can question the decision.”

Don Enzo turned toward the corner of the room.

Luca Russo stood there, half-hidden in the shadows.

“You heard her.”

Luca didn’t say anything.

He only nodded.

Three days later, Mario Caruso died at Warehouse 7.

The security cameras happened to malfunction.

His men happened to all be off duty.

The scene was clean.

Two weeks later, during The Commission meeting, Don Enzo promoted Luca Russo into the family’s inner circle.

Someone asked:

“Who ordered him to do it?”

Don Enzo took a drag from his cigar and looked at me.

“My granddaughter did.”

From that moment on, Luca Russo rose quickly.

The second year, he managed Eastside Casino.

The third year, he took control of the dock routes.

The fifth year, he became Underboss.

When Don Enzo stepped down, he said:

“Luca handles things carefully.”

I sat beside him while Luca held my hand.

“Sofia helped me a lot.”

The year the old Consigliere passed away, he held Vivian Ferraro’s hand and told her:

“Stay close to Sofia.”

“The foundation of Valentino isn’t in Luca Russo.”

His voice had been weak, but his words were clear.

“It’s in her.”

My phone vibrated.

Vivian’s message appeared.

[Fiona O’Malley’s identity has been confirmed. She’s the niece of The Irish Mob’s Westside branch Capo. Three years ago, they placed her beside Luca Russo. It was a Blood bond, a marriage arrangement meant to hold leverage over him. The Irish used her as a hostage. Luca used her as proof of loyalty.]

I stared at the message.

Then typed one word.

[The child?]

Her reply came quickly.

[The biological father is Luca Russo. But the child is another guarantee in their hands. The child is with them. As long as they control the child, Luca Russo can’t turn against them.]

Fiona O’Malley wasn’t his mistress.

She was the chain The Irish Mob had wrapped around Luca Russo’s neck.

I walked to the vanity and opened the bottom drawer.

Inside was a small red velvet box.

I opened it.

A thousand-dollar chip from Eastside Casino sat inside.

Luca had tossed it onto my nightstand last month.

“Here. Good luck.”

A one-thousand-dollar casino chip.

The dock routes he gave The Irish Mob were worth hundreds of millions a year.

And my gift was a single chip.

I gripped it tightly.

My knuckles turned white.

Then I placed it back in the box and closed the drawer.

My phone lit up again.

Another message from Vivian.

[There’s something else. Luca Russo has a private account. Since four years ago, he’s been making regular overseas transfers. The recipient is a company in Panama. The registered owner is Fiona O’Malley.]

Four years ago.

The same year I told him:

“Maybe we should have a child.”

The same year he told the doctor:

“Let’s just let things happen naturally.”

Back then, he wasn’t building a family with me.

He was supporting another woman somewhere else.

That evening, Vivian arrived at Valentino Estate in a dark gray sedan.

She spread a stack of documents across the coffee table in the living room.

“Luca Russo has controlled family assets for the past four years. At least forty percent of the profits never entered Valentino’s main accounts.”

She placed the documents down one by one.

“They went through four shell companies.”

“One in the Cayman Islands, two in Delaware, and one in Panama.”

“The registered owner for all of them is Fiona O’Malley.”

She looked at me.

“At least two hundred million dollars has been moved over the past four years.”

The second stack of documents was a copy of the Territory division agreement.

A detailed plan dividing Valentino’s land and businesses.

“Westside Docks goes to The Irish Mob. Profits split fifty-fifty.”

“Eastside Casino stays half under Luca Russo’s control.”

“North Highway is handed over completely as a transportation route for The Irish Mob.”

“And Valentino Estate…”

Vivian tapped the page.

“Transferred into Luca Russo’s name.”

I stared at the document.

“When was this drafted?”

“The initial agreement was made at the end of last year.”

She pointed to handwritten notes on the page.

“The final transfer date was planned for one week after this year’s Feast of the Seven Fishes.”

I looked up.

“What about The Commission?”

“Three elders retired last year.”

Vivian’s expression hardened.

“All three were Don Enzo’s old allies.”

“The replacements were the Eastside Casino manager, the former Westside Docks security chief, and Fiona O’Malley’s cousin.”

She continued.

“Luca Russo added five votes of his own. That gives him six.”

“The remaining five elders have been too afraid to stand against him.”

She paused.

“And there’s one more vote.”

I already knew.

“Me.”

“The eleventh vote.”

Vivian nodded.

“He’s planning to announce his ‘heir’ at the dinner.”

She looked down at Fiona’s photo.

“A son with Irish blood.”

“After that, he’ll announce a restructuring of Territory management.”

Her voice turned cold.

“He’ll make it sound like he’s doing it for the next generation.”

Vivian pulled another photograph from the bottom of her briefcase.

Fiona O’Malley stood outside an obstetrics clinic.

Her stomach was clearly showing.

Seven months pregnant.

I stared at the picture.

The things three generations of Valentinos had fought and bled for were never meant to be handed away.

They were meant to stay with the Valentino family.

Luca Russo had forgotten that.

“Before the Feast of the Seven Fishes, two things need to happen.”

I looked at Vivian.

“First, find out everything about those five people on The Commission.”

“Whether they took money or whether Luca Russo has something on them.”

“Second, before he announces his heir, make sure everyone knows where that child was baptized.”

Vivian nodded.

“Five days.”

“Three.”

I looked at the calendar.

“The Feast of the Seven Fishes is next Saturday.”

She gathered the documents and walked toward the door.

Before leaving, she stopped and turned back.

“Sofia.”

“When your father filled out the Letter of Disposal, were you there?”

I looked toward the window.

“I was ten years old.”

“I was standing beside him.”

Vivian was silent for a moment.

Then she asked:

“Who are you planning to write on that letter?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

“That depends on whether he chooses to stop.”

She left.

I went upstairs and opened the locked drawer at the bottom of my closet.

Inside was a dark wooden box with brass clasps.

I opened it.

A key lay inside.

The spare key to Don Enzo’s study safe.

He had secretly given it to me the year he retired.

I had never used it.

Until now.

Tomorrow, I would.

Outside, the sky had already turned completely dark.

Beyond the lights of the eastern district were the casino, the docks, and the highways.

The Territory Luca Russo had marked as his “transfer date” map.

For years, I thought all of it belonged to Valentino.

Now I knew.

Forty percent had already been stolen.

But it didn’t matter.

At the Feast of the Seven Fishes, I would take everything back.

The ring.

The Letter of Disposal.

The ledger.

The recording.

The photographs.

Piece by piece.

Luca Russo had spent ten years writing his own map.

Now I would show him how the real Don of Valentino drew a new one.