The Night the Mafia King Chose Her Side ×
"Grandpa?"
Bianca's voice broke in the middle of the word.
The man standing inside the garage was tall, painfully thin, and leaning on a wooden cane.
His white hair was longer than she remembered.
A deep scar crossed his left cheek.
But his eyes—
Those warm, familiar brown eyes.
Bianca knew them.
"Grandpa Alessandro?"
The man closed his eyes.
For one terrible second, Bianca thought he might disappear.
Then he whispered, "Hello, little moon."
Her knees buckled.
Matteo caught her before she struck the floor.
"No," Bianca whispered. "No, this isn't possible."
The old man took one trembling step toward her.
"I know."
"We buried you."
"I know, sweetheart."
"I stood beside your coffin."
His face crumpled.
"I am so sorry."
Bianca stared at him.
Then at the elderly woman seated in the wheelchair behind him.
Elena Rossetti.
Her grandmother.
Alive.
Both of them.
After twenty years of believing Elena was dead and eight years of mourning Alessandro, Bianca was suddenly looking at the two people who had loved her most.
She couldn't breathe.
"Why?" she whispered.
Alessandro reached toward her.
Bianca stepped backward.
"Why did you leave me?"
The old man's hand fell.
And for the first time since entering the Rossetti mansion, Matteo Bellandi looked completely helpless.
Enzo secured the garage while Matteo helped Elena into the adjoining sitting room.
Alessandro followed slowly.
Bianca remained near the doorway.
She couldn't stop staring at her grandfather.
The man who had taught her to knead dough.
The man who called her his little moon.
The man whose death had shattered her heart.
He was alive.
And he had let her grieve.
"Tell me the truth," she said.
Alessandro lowered himself into a chair.
"You deserve it."
Bianca folded her arms.
"All of it."
Elena reached for her husband's hand.
"Twenty years ago, we discovered that Vittorio was helping move money through the bakery."
Bianca swallowed.
"My father?"
Alessandro nodded.
"He believed he was making investments. By the time he understood what was happening, he was already trapped."
Matteo stood near the fireplace.
"Vesper Holdings."
"Yes," Alessandro said. "But Vesper was only a name. The people behind it changed companies whenever investigators got close."
"Who controlled it?" Matteo asked.
Alessandro looked at him.
"Your father was one of the men involved."
Matteo's expression hardened.
"One of them?"
"Yes."
"Who else?"
Alessandro hesitated.
"Adrian Vale's father. Several property developers. And a man named Richard Mercer."
Gabriel, who had just entered the room, stopped walking.
"Richard Mercer?"
Alessandro nodded.
Gabriel looked at Matteo.
"He's the former chairman of Bellandi Development Group."
Matteo went still.
"He's also my father's closest surviving business partner."
Bianca looked between them.
"So your families were connected before I was born?"
Alessandro nodded.
"Long before."
Bianca sat opposite her grandparents.
Her hands trembled.
"What happened the night of the fire?"
Elena closed her eyes.
"Richard Mercer came to the bakery with documents he wanted Alessandro to sign."
"What documents?"
"A confession."
Bianca frowned.
"A confession to what?"
"Financial crimes Alessandro didn't commit."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"They wanted him to take responsibility for the money transfers."
Alessandro nodded.
"I refused."
Elena continued.
"Then Mercer threatened Bianca."
Bianca felt cold.
"Me?"
"You were seven years old," Elena whispered. "You were sleeping in the apartment above the bakery."
Bianca remembered something.
A narrow staircase.
A yellow blanket.
The smell of cinnamon.
Then smoke.
She pressed her hands against her temples.
"I remember someone shouting."
Elena nodded.
"That was me."
Bianca looked at Matteo.
"And you were there."
He stepped forward.
"Yes."
"With the metal container."
"Yes."
Her voice trembled.
"Why?"
Matteo took a breath.
"My father ordered me to deliver cleaning solvent to the building. He said Mercer needed it for a property inspection."
Bianca stared.
"You believed him?"
"I was eighteen. I believed too many things."
Alessandro looked at him.
"Matteo didn't start the fire."
Bianca turned sharply.
"How do you know?"
"Because I saw who did."
The room fell silent.
Alessandro's hands tightened around his cane.
"Richard Mercer poured fuel along the rear storage corridor. He believed the building was empty."
Elena shook her head.
"He knew Bianca was upstairs."
Alessandro closed his eyes.
"Yes. I believe he did."
Bianca felt sick.
Matteo's voice became dangerously quiet.
"And my father?"
Alessandro looked at him.
"He arrived after the fire started."
Matteo swallowed.
"Did he try to stop it?"
"No."
The answer struck him harder than any accusation.
"He watched," Alessandro continued. "And when Mercer told him the evidence was burning, he walked away."
Matteo turned toward the window.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Bianca looked at her grandmother.
"Then how did you survive?"
Elena's eyes filled.
"Matteo carried you out."
Bianca stared.
"What?"
"He found you near the back stairs. You had collapsed from smoke inhalation."
She turned toward Matteo.
He didn't look at her.
"You saved me?"
He nodded once.
Bianca's throat tightened.
Elena continued.
"Then he went back inside looking for me."
Matteo shook his head.
"I couldn't reach the storage room."
"You tried," Elena whispered.
Alessandro looked at Bianca.
"I escaped through the old flour passage. I found Elena unconscious near the delivery entrance."
Bianca frowned.
"Then why did everyone think she died?"
Alessandro's expression darkened.
"Because Mercer found us before we reached the street."
Elena lowered her eyes.
"He threatened to kill Bianca if we told anyone what happened."
Bianca felt her stomach turn.
"So you disappeared?"
"Elena was badly injured," Alessandro said. "Mercer arranged for her to be moved to a private medical facility. He controlled the records. He controlled the doctors."
"And you?"
"I stayed behind because you needed me."
Bianca stared.
"But Grandma was alive all those years?"
Alessandro nodded.
"I was allowed to visit her occasionally. Only if I cooperated."
Tears spilled down Bianca's cheeks.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because they threatened to take you too."
She shook her head.
"You should have trusted me."
Alessandro's face crumpled.
"You're right."
The admission silenced her.
He continued.
"I thought keeping you ignorant would keep you safe. I was wrong."
Bianca wiped her face.
"And eight years ago?"
Alessandro looked at Gabriel.
"That's when I discovered the trust records had been compromised."
Gabriel nodded slowly.
"The forged ownership documents."
"Yes. Mercer knew Bianca would eventually inherit the bakery rights. He wanted control before she understood what she owned."
"So you faked your death?" Bianca whispered.
Alessandro lowered his head.
"With help from people who believed Mercer would kill me if I remained visible."
Bianca stared.
"You let me bury an empty coffin."
His voice broke.
"Yes."
She stood abruptly.
"I can't do this."
Matteo stepped aside as she walked toward the door.
He didn't stop her.
He simply followed at a distance.
Bianca returned to the kitchen.
The ovens were cold.
The lemon cakes sat untouched.
Her grandfather's starter jar rested beside the flour bin.
She stared at it.
For years, she had fed that starter every morning because it was the only living thing she believed her grandfather had left behind.
Now he was sitting in the next room.
Alive.
And she didn't know whether to hug him or scream.
She pressed both hands against the counter.
Matteo stopped in the doorway.
"Would you like me to leave?"
Bianca shook her head.
"No."
He entered quietly.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then she whispered, "I don't know what to feel."
"You don't have to choose one feeling."
She laughed bitterly.
"I'm happy they're alive."
"Of course."
"And I'm furious."
"That makes sense."
"And I feel guilty for being furious."
Matteo shook his head.
"You don't owe anyone forgiveness simply because they were trying to protect you."
Bianca turned toward him.
"Even if they love me?"
"Especially then. Love doesn't erase the harm."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"You're different from what I expected."
He almost smiled.
"So are you."
"What did you expect?"
"A woman who would agree with whatever her family told her."
Bianca looked down.
"I used to."
"Not anymore."
She gave a small smile.
"No. Not anymore."
Gabriel entered carrying a document.
"Bianca, there's something you need to see."
She dried her eyes.
"What now?"
He placed a ledger on the counter.
It was old.
Leather-bound.
Its pages were yellowed.
On the cover were two words.
Original Accounts.
Bianca frowned.
"Grandpa's?"
Gabriel nodded.
"He gave it to me just now."
Matteo opened the first page.
Rows of handwritten entries filled the paper.
Property acquisitions.
Business loans.
Payments.
And a list of companies connected to Vesper Holdings.
Gabriel pointed toward one section.
"These records show that Rossetti Heritage Foods was used to conceal payments connected to the Mercer Street redevelopment."
Bianca looked at the amounts.
Hundreds of thousands.
Millions.
Her stomach tightened.
"How much money?"
Gabriel turned to the final page.
"More than thirty million dollars moved through the associated accounts over two decades."
Bianca stared.
"Thirty million?"
"Yes."
Matteo's expression hardened.
"And the bakery's legitimate profits helped disguise the transfers."
Gabriel nodded.
Bianca looked at the ledger.
"My bread."
Neither man spoke.
"They used my bread to make the company look successful."
Gabriel lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
She felt a wave of anger so strong that her hands began shaking.
For years, she had worked until her feet ached.
She had skipped meals.
Missed birthdays.
Sacrificed friendships.
All because she believed the family business needed her.
And it had needed her.
Just not for the reasons she thought.
Her work had kept the operation alive.
Her recipes had attracted customers.
Her products had created legitimate revenue that concealed something much darker.
Bianca looked at Matteo.
"Can this ledger destroy them?"
He studied the pages.
"If it's authentic and supported by the bank records, it could expose a major financial conspiracy."
She swallowed.
"Then I want it turned over to the authorities."
Gabriel nodded.
"That's the right step."
Matteo looked at her.
"Are you sure?"
Bianca met his eyes.
"My family used me because they thought I'd never fight back."
She placed her hand on the ledger.
"They were wrong."
An hour later, Serena Rossetti appeared in the kitchen.
Her face was pale.
Her elegant dress was wrinkled.
And for the first time Bianca could remember, her mother looked old.
"Bianca."
Bianca didn't turn.
"What do you want?"
Serena glanced at Matteo.
"Could we speak privately?"
Bianca shook her head.
"Anything you have to say, you can say in front of him."
Serena's lips tightened.
"He's not family."
Bianca looked at her.
"Neither were you when you forged my signature."
Serena flinched.
"That isn't fair."
Bianca laughed once.
"Fair?"
Her voice rose.
"You told me I was worthless. You stole my work. You tried to have me declared incompetent."
Serena's eyes filled.
"I was trying to save this family."
"From what?"
Serena looked away.
"From your father's debts."
Bianca stepped closer.
"You knew Grandma was alive?"
Serena froze.
The silence answered before she did.
Bianca felt cold.
"You knew."
Serena began crying.
"Bianca, please—"
"You let me mourn her."
"I didn't have a choice."
"You always say that."
Serena looked at Matteo.
"Do you think he can protect you from everything?"
Bianca stiffened.
"What does that mean?"
Her mother wiped her cheeks.
"Richard Mercer doesn't lose."
Matteo stepped forward.
"He will this time."
Serena laughed bitterly.
"You sound just like your father."
Matteo's expression hardened.
"Leave."
Serena looked at Bianca.
"Come with me."
"No."
"Bianca—"
"I said no."
For several seconds, mother and daughter stared at each other.
Then Serena whispered, "You'll regret choosing him."
Bianca shook her head.
"I'm choosing myself."
Serena's expression collapsed.
She turned and left.
Matteo's phone rang.
Enzo.
He answered immediately.
"Report."
A pause.
Then his expression changed.
"Where?"
Bianca watched him.
"What happened?"
Matteo ended the call.
"Mercer's people have located the mansion."
Gabriel went pale.
"How?"
"We don't know."
Bianca looked toward the windows.
"Are they coming here?"
Matteo nodded.
"Several vehicles are approaching the property."
Enzo appeared in the doorway.
"Boss, we've secured the main entrance. But the east gate is compromised."
Matteo looked at Bianca.
"We need to move."
She glanced toward the sitting room.
"Grandma and Grandpa?"
"Enzo will get them out."
"And Rosa?"
"Already safe."
Bianca nodded.
Then stopped.
"The ledger."
Gabriel held it up.
"I have it."
Matteo looked toward the hallway.
"Good. Let's go."
But Bianca didn't move.
Something had caught her attention.
The gold wedding ring.
It still lay on the counter.
She picked it up.
Matteo turned.
"Bianca?"
She examined the crescent moon engraved inside.
Then the date.
Tomorrow.
Suddenly, she understood.
"Matteo."
He looked at her.
"What?"
"This ring wasn't meant to scare me."
His expression changed.
"What do you mean?"
She held it up.
"Someone wanted me to believe you were planning a wedding without my permission."
"Yes."
"But what if the real message wasn't the wedding?"
Matteo stepped closer.
"Then what was it?"
Bianca pointed to the crescent.
"Grandpa used this mark on things he wanted me to recognize."
Gabriel frowned.
"The ring could have been made by someone who knew his system."
Bianca nodded.
"And tomorrow might not be a wedding date."
Matteo's eyes narrowed.
"A deadline."
She looked toward the ledger.
"Maybe."
Enzo's radio crackled.
"Boss, vehicles at the front gate."
Matteo turned sharply.
"How many?"
"Four."
"Armed?"
"Unknown."
Bianca felt her heart hammer.
Then a voice came through the radio.
"Mr. Bellandi, they're asking for Bianca Rossetti."
Matteo's expression became dangerous.
"Tell them she's unavailable."
A pause.
Then the guard spoke again.
"They say they have a legal order."
Gabriel frowned.
"What kind?"
The guard answered.
"Emergency guardianship."
Bianca went still.
Her mother.
The forged medical report.
The court petition.
All of it had reached the mansion.
Matteo looked at Gabriel.
"Can they take her?"
"Not without valid authority and proper procedure."
Enzo listened to his radio.
Then shook his head.
"Boss, something's wrong."
Matteo turned.
"What?"
"The men at the gate aren't police."
Bianca felt cold.
"Then who are they?"
Enzo swallowed.
"They're private security."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"Mercer's?"
"Yes."
Bianca stared at the ring.
Tomorrow.
A deadline.
A forced marriage.
A guardianship petition.
The pieces began fitting together.
"They don't want my recipes," she whispered.
Matteo looked at her.
"What?"
"They want legal control of me."
Gabriel went pale.
"Bianca..."
She turned toward him.
"If someone becomes my guardian, they can try to control my trust. If someone marries me under the wrong circumstances, they can try to influence my assets."
Gabriel nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Bianca looked at Matteo.
"Then they're not trying to destroy the bakery."
Her voice trembled.
"They're trying to own the person who built it."
Matteo stepped closer.
"Listen to me."
Bianca looked up.
"Nobody is taking you anywhere."
She swallowed.
"How can you promise that?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "Because I'm going to stand beside you while you fight."
Bianca stared at him.
For years, every promise of protection had come with conditions.
Obey your father.
Respect your mother.
Give your sister credit.
Stay quiet.
Be grateful.
Matteo asked for none of those things.
He simply stood there.
Waiting.
Bianca reached for his hand.
He looked down.
Then gently closed his fingers around hers.
"Thank you," she whispered.
A loud crash echoed from the front of the mansion.
Enzo touched his earpiece.
"Boss, the gate is down."
Matteo's expression changed.
"Get everyone to the secure exit."
Bianca tightened her grip on his hand.
"Matteo."
He looked at her.
"What?"
"If we get out of this, I want to talk about your proposal."
He went still.
"Bianca—"
"Not because I'm afraid."
She swallowed.
"Because I want to understand what you meant."
His expression softened.
"Then we'll talk."
Another crash shook the hallway.
Enzo stepped forward.
"Now, boss."
Matteo nodded.
He turned toward the service corridor.
But before they reached it, Bianca heard a voice from the dining room.
Livia.
Screaming.
"Bianca! Don't go!"
Bianca stopped.
Matteo looked back.
Livia stumbled into the hallway.
Her face was white.
Her hands were shaking.
And behind her stood Richard Mercer.
He wore a black overcoat and carried a silver-handled cane.
His expression was almost pleasant.
"Miss Rossetti," he said.
Bianca froze.
Matteo moved in front of her.
"Mercer."
The older man smiled.
"Matteo. Your father would be disappointed."
Matteo's voice was cold.
"My father isn't here."
Mercer glanced at Bianca.
"No. But his daughter is."
The words struck the room like thunder.
Bianca stared.
"What?"
Mercer smiled.
Then reached into his coat.
Matteo stepped forward.
"Don't."
Mercer slowly withdrew a sealed envelope.
On the front was Bianca's name.
Inside, visible through a transparent sleeve, was a birth certificate.
Bianca's heart stopped.
Mercer held it up.
"Your family has been lying to you for thirty years."
Matteo went completely still.
Bianca reached toward the document.
Mercer smiled.
"Go ahead, sweetheart. Read the father's name."
She took the envelope.
Her fingers shook as she opened it.
The paper unfolded.
Her mother's name appeared first.
Serena Rossetti.
Then Bianca's date of birth.
Then the line marked FATHER.
May you like
She looked down.
And the name written there was—
