“They're Beating My Mom!” A Little Girl Ran to the Mafia Boss Crying That They Were Beating Her Mother, but a Crumpled Flower Invoice Exposed the Traitor Inside His Empire

The rain outside felt like ice against my skin as four heavy SUVs tore through the slick streets toward Wells Street.

I sat in the back of the lead vehicle with Emma wrapped in my heavy cashmere coat. Her tiny hands were wrapped around a warm thermos of tea Luca had handed her before we left the restaurant.

“Luca,” I said, my eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. “Take six men and breach the back alley behind Sophia’s Bloom. Enzo, secure the front street.”

“And Dante?” Luca asked quietly, glancing at the front passenger seat where Dante sat silently, staring straight ahead into the dark road.

“Dante stays with me,” I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. “He will watch how I handle men who use my name without permission.”

Dante’s shoulders stiffened slightly, but he said nothing. His knuckles were white where he gripped his knees.

Three minutes later, we pulled up outside Sophia’s Bloom.

The hand-painted sign hung crookedly from one rusty chain. The large front glass bay window had been smashed into thousands of glittering fragments that covered the wet sidewalk.

I stepped out of the vehicle, the cold rain washing over my face.

Inside the dark flower shop, tables were overturned. Crushed roses, shattered porcelain vases, and torn fern leaves littered the wooden floor. In the center of the destruction, lying amidst a pile of white lilies, was a woman.

Sophia Bennett.

Her face was swollen, blood trickling from a cut near her temple, her hands bruised from trying to protect herself.

Standing over her was a tall, heavily built man with a thick black snake tattooed up his throat, holding an iron pipe. Two other thugs were tearing through the cash register behind the counter.

“I told you, lady,” Snake-neck sneered, raising the iron pipe. “Moretti gets his thirty percent, or you don't keep your shop.”

“I don't... have it...” Sophia gasped weakly, her voice barely a whisper. “Please... my daughter...”

“She ran off, didn't she?” Snake-neck laughed ugly. “Don't worry. My boys will find her.”

“They won't have to,” I spoke from the shattered doorway.

The three men spun around instantly.

Snake-neck raised his iron pipe, his eyes narrowing in the dim light. “Who the hell are you? Get out of here before I—”

He stopped dead when he saw Luca and four heavily armed men step through the shattered window behind me, their weapons drawn and silent.

Snake-neck’s face turned gray. He recognized me immediately.

“Mr... Mr. Moretti?” he stammered, his hand shaking so violently the iron pipe clattered onto the floorboards. “We... we were just collecting for you! Like the boss ordered!”

“Which boss?” I asked, stepping over the broken glass with slow, measured strides.