Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask

Rossi’s POV

"Mom, you cannot be serious about sabotaging everything I want in life!" Rossi’s voice echoed through the marble corridors of their family compound as she confronted her bedridden mother in the master suite.

Patricia pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, her silk nightgown wrinkled from days of confinement. "Darling, please keep your voice down. This migraine is absolutely killing me, and the last thing I need is you screaming like some street thug’s daughter."

"I don’t give a damn about your headache!" Rossi’s shout was even louder this time, her designer heels clicking aggressively against the imported Italian marble as she spun around and stormed toward the door.

Don Rossi looked up from his encrypted phone as his daughter burst into his private office, throwing herself onto the leather armchair across from his mahogany desk with theatrical flair. Her face was flushed with anger, her perfectly manicured hands clenched into fists.

"Princess, what has you so worked up?" he asked, setting aside the latest intelligence reports from their money laundering operations to focus on his obviously distressed daughter.

"It’s your wife, Daddy. She’s being completely unreasonable with me, and I’m sick of it."

The Don raised an eyebrow, his weathered face showing concern. In their world, family unity was everything, and internal discord could be exploited by rival families. "What did your mother refuse to approve now, sweetheart?"

"Yesterday I wanted to visit that exclusive bridal boutique in Manhattan, the one that designs gowns for all the other family daughters. But she suddenly developed this convenient illness and insisted we postpone until next week." Rossi’s voice dripped with accusation, as if her mother had orchestrated the sickness specifically to spite her upcoming marriage into the Thorne syndicate.

"Baby girl, why don’t you just take Monica with you instead? She has excellent taste, and the Thorne family would approve of her accompanying you."

"Because Mom is hoarding the family credit card like some paranoid miser! She keeps insisting it has to be a special mother-daughter bonding experience, like we’re some normal suburban family instead of one of the most powerful crime dynasties on the East Coast." Rossi’s tone turned whiny, the way it always did when she wanted something from her father.

"I transferred two hundred thousand into her account yesterday specifically for your wedding expenses, so she has no legitimate excuse to deny you access to those funds."

"Then you need to go talk some sense into her, daddyyy..." Rossi drew out the word in that particular way that had always gotten her what she wanted since childhood, even when she was asking for things that violated federal laws.

Don Rossi pushed himself up from his chair with a resigned sigh, his joints creaking slightly from old bullet wounds that never healed properly. "Give me a few minutes to handle this situation, princess." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

He made his way through the compound’s secured corridors to the master bedroom, where Patricia lay buried under imported cashmere blankets despite the controlled temperature. Rossi began his systematic search, rifling through her designer handbags, yanking open dresser drawers filled with jewelry worth more than most people’s houses, and even checking behind oil paintings that concealed various family safes.

"Patricia, where the hell is that card? Rossi wants to get her dress fitted today, and the Thorne family is expecting this alliance to proceed smoothly. Just hand it over and she can take Monica to handle the arrangements."

"Absolutely not!" Patricia’s voice carried surprising strength for someone claiming to be at death’s door. "She’s my daughter too, Rossi. I’m going with her to choose her wedding dress, and that’s final. We’ll go next week when I can actually stand up without feeling dizzy. And don’t even think about giving her cash to bypass my authority in this family."

The Don’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with the dangerous look that had terrified rival families for decades. "Patricia, you’re really testing my patience here."

"And you’re testing mine!" She sat up abruptly, her eyes blazing with an intensity that reminded him exactly why he had chosen her as his wife years ago. "Remember those documents I mentioned? The ones detailing the investigation into the Thorne patriarch’s car bombing years back? And that particularly interesting recording I made of your late-night phone calls discussing your family’s involvement in arranging that accident? They’re safely stored with someone I trust completely. Someone who has very specific instructions about what to do if our daughter purchases that dress without me being present."

"You manipulative witch! You’re blackmailing your own husband!"

"That’s exactly the kind of strategic thinking that made me the perfect wife for a man in your position, darling!" Patricia’s smile was cold as winter steel as she settled back into her pillows. "Now go explain to our daughter that she’ll be shopping with her mother, or she won’t be shopping at all. The Thorne alliance depends on maintaining certain appearances."

Don Rossi stormed back to his office, his hands clenched into fists that had broken more bones than he could count. His wife had outmaneuvered him completely from the very beginning. For years, she had seemed like the perfect crime family matriarch, never questioning his orders, never demanding explanations about the bodies that needed disposing of or the territories that required hostile takeovers.

But she had been watching, listening, and collecting evidence the entire time. The moment she had stolen those federal investigation files and recorded his confession about sabotaging the brakes on the Thorne patriarch’s vehicle, their entire power dynamic had shifted permanently. She held his life in her hands, and she had made sure he understood the consequences of crossing her.

The letter she had written, stating that if anything suspicious happened to her, he should be considered the prime suspect, was just another layer of protection. Rossi had spent months trying to identify her mysterious ally, the person holding all the evidence that could destroy not just him, but their entire criminal enterprise.

"Sweetheart, I’m afraid there’s no negotiating with your mother on this particular matter. She’s determined to accompany you dress shopping personally. You’ll have to wait until she recovers next week."

Rossi’s face crumpled like a disappointed child. "But daddyyy..."

"Princess, listen to me carefully. What if I make this worth your while? If you agree to wait for your mother, I’ll transfer some spending money to your account right now. You could visit those boutiques in SoHo today and buy yourself something stunning for the engagement parties."

Rossi’s expression shifted from sulking to calculating. "How much money are we talking about?"

"Would fifty thousand dollars make this easier to accept?"

Rossi’s smile was immediate and brilliant. "Daddy, you always know exactly how to make me feel better."