Mafia Don’s Little Silent Wife Chapter 05

Mafia Don’s Little Silent Wife Chapter 05

By the fifth month, the Costa family made their move.

The one leading the charge was a second-generation Costa from the East District.

They had been fighting with the Moretti family over docks and warehouse routes for three years.

Before this, it was just small-time friction.

One day you smash one of my warehouses; the next day I cut off one of your routes.

But recently, his moves grew much bolder.

Two consecutive batches of protected shipments were hijacked by his men.

Three of my enforcers were knocked unconscious and dumped outside a private clinic.

A note was left beside them.

[Make way. Or next time, it won’t just be a few broken bones.]

I tore the note up and told Vincent to investigate.

“Costa recently connected with the Ricci family up north,” Vincent reported. “Ricci gave him new guns and legal cover. He’s got a backbone again.”

“Then we break his spine.”

I was incredibly busy during that period.

Leaving early and returning late.

Sometimes I didn’t return to the estate for days at a time.

Bianca remained the same.

She stayed quietly at home, watering flowers, folding origami, and reading.

Occasionally, she went to the Moretti charity home.

That orphanage was funded by her mother before she passed away, and Bianca went there every week to help the kids draw.

Whenever I returned late at night, she always left a lamp on and a glass of water on the table.

One night at three in the morning, I came back after handling business, smelling heavily of smoke.

The moment I pushed the door open, I saw someone curled up on the living room couch.

Bianca was tucked under a blanket, still clutching a half-read book, fast asleep.

A glass of water sat on the coffee table.

She was waiting for me.

I stood at the doorway and watched her for a moment.

When she slept, her face looked even smaller than when she was awake.

Her eyelashes were long, and her breathing was light.

I walked over, pulled the book from her hand, and bent down.

I lifted her up into my arms.

She was light. So light it actually annoyed me a little.

How could she be that thin and still wait up for me every night?

I carried her to the bed in her room.

Half-asleep, she stirred and muttered something I couldn’t catch.

I pulled the blanket over her, turned off the light, and walked out.

The next morning, the moment I opened my eyes, my phone rang. It was Vincent.

“Don, we have a problem. Donna went to the charity home this morning, and the Costa family’s men intercepted her at the entrance. They didn’t lay a hand on her, but they intimidated her.”

I sat up straight.

“What did they say?”

“They told her to keep Rocco’s life safe for him. They even took photos and sent them to our men.”

I hung up, changed my clothes, and headed out.

Passing through the living room, I saw Bianca sitting on the couch, hugging her knees.

She looked up when she saw me.

Her expression had not changed much, but I noticed her fingers were trembling.

I walked over and knelt down in front of her.

She looked at me.

I raised my hands and used the little sign language I had learned to make two motions.

[Don’t be afraid.]

Then I made another one.

[I’m here.]

She stared at my hands, the rims of her eyes turning red.

But she didn’t cry.

She just nodded.

That afternoon, I cornered the Costa guy at the private club he frequented.

This wasn’t personal venting. This was family retaliation.

He moved against a Moretti-protected shipment and reached his hands toward my Donna.

He had to pay the price.

To put it simply, out of the six men who went to the charity home, not a single one walked out on his own two feet.

I pinned Costa himself down against a pool table.

I leaned down to look at him.

“If I ever see your men within ten yards of her again,” I whispered close to his ear, “the Costa family name disappears from the East District.”

His face was drenched in sweat. He tried to speak tough, but his lips trembled for a long time without a single word coming out.

Vincent handed me a cigarette from the side.

I bit down on the cigarette, stood up, and brushed imaginary dust off my hands.

Before leaving, I glanced back at him.

“If you don’t believe me, feel free to test it out.”