(Theme Song of the Chapter: I Did Something Bad [slowed + reverb] - Taylor Swift)

Aiden◆Accardi

WHEN YOU LIVED in my world, making enemies wasn't just common—it was inevitable. My hand instinctively slid into my back pocket, brushing against the grip of my concealed gun.

I stiffened as I felt the cool press of metal against my temple, and a dry, amused chuckle slipped from my lips when I saw who it was.

Leo Bruno.

Don of the Bruno Crime Family. Their empire sprawled across Italy and the United States, second only to ours. They especially dominated New York. Our families had history—ugly, bloody history. My father had been an absolute bastard, and he'd left behind a trail of enemies that fell on my shoulders to deal with.

As the saying goes, sons inherit the sins of their fathers.

I glanced sidelong at Leo and smirked. "If you're here to kill me, Leo, at least buy me dinner first. I'm not cheap."

From the corner of my eye, I caught Enzo's subtle movement. In a flash, his gun was out and pointed at Leo. The room shifted violently—And just like that, Leo's enforcers, five of them, instantly drew their weapons, each one trained on Enzo.

We were seconds away from this becoming a bloodbath.

"Enzo, drop the damn gun," I said sharply, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. I kept my eyes fixed on Leo. We both knew how this game worked. One wrong move, and we'd be counting bodies instead of cash.

Leo let the silence linger a beat too long before lifting a hand up with a casual movement. "Stand down," he ordered his men, eyes never leaving mine. They hesitated for a fraction of a second before complying and their guns lowering.

I exhaled slowly, watching as Enzo followed my lead, tucking his gun away with a tight jaw.

"Now," Leo said, voice dripping with faux civility, "why don't you and your hotheaded brother have a seat on the couch. Let's talk."

Another dry chuckle escapes me as I made my way over to the velvet couch. Beside it, a long, flat table glistened with half-empty glasses and expensive bottles of liquor and champagne.

I settled into the couch with casual ease. Enzo followed suit, sitting beside me, his every move tense and rigid.

Leo moved to the opposite side, never breaking the silent exchange of looks between us.

I leaned back, letting the weight of the moment settle over us. "So," I said, voice low yet it vibrated through the room. "What's it going to be this time, Leo? Negotiation, or do we skip straight to the theatrics?

Leo huffed. "Mancini said you were as cunning as your father," the words that left his lips caused my jaw to tighten. I hated being compared to that man.

"Speaking of Mancini," I trailed off, my focused eyes studying the room around us. "Where the hell is he?"

David Mancini had played me once again, but I never would have guessed he would align with the Bruno family given their negative history. My deal with Mancini was under wraps, far from the public eye, and whatever game he was playing now, was born from the very dark we swore to honor.

A deal was clearly not being made today and despite the utter rage brewing in my body, I knew if I were to earn the upper hand, I would have to play smart.

"He couldn't make it," Leo said with a smug grin, casually lifting a glass from the table and taking a slow sip. "But he sends his best wishes."

I could hear Enzo's low rumble beside me, which earned him a look of disgust from Leo.

"You know," Leo continued, leaning back into the velvet couch, "I heard about what you did to the Contis at that nightclub." He chuckled darkly. "Elio Conti... one-eyed bastard was hardly worth my attention. But when I realized the Accardi family staged an attack against his men, my interest was earned."

My eyes narrowed. What the hell was this man on about? This was about the Conti family?

"So I called Elio," Leo said, his grin spreading further across his face, "and told him not to bother with retaliation, because Aiden Accardi... was my kill." His jaw tightened as his gaze fixed on me. "And here I am, intercepting a deal that would have made a rich man even richer."

If there was one thing I couldn't tolerate being fucked with, it was my money.

Leo leaned forward, eyes blazing with hatred. "Too bad I'm ready to put a bullet through your skull... just like your father did to mine. Funny how history has a way of repeating itself."

I let out a breath and raised a bored brow. "So straight to the theatrics, I see?"

Leo's nostrils flared clearly bothered by my indifference. "And to think, with all the enemies your father made, out of all the ways that motherfucker could've died... a car crash takes him? Pathetic."

His words set off Enzo, who leapt from the couch in a fury, only to be met with guns pointed at him from every corner of the room.

I slowly turned my gaze to Enzo, my patience wearing thin. "Sit the fuck down."

Leo hummed with amusement. "I'd listen to him if I were you. Wouldn't want to end up like dear old papá."

Enzo's ragged breaths echoed through the tense room, but he forced himself back onto the couch, his eyes burning holes into Leo. Enzo was always ready to defend our father's honor—something Leo's mockery only fueled.

But me? I couldn't care less what anyone thought of my father. I agreed with most of them anyways.

Honor was earned and papá never earned his.

"Now, here's how this is going to go," Leo started, his tone colder. "The Accardi family will fall in line and repay their debt to me."

I fought the urge to punch him in his smug face. "Debt? I don't owe you a damn thing."

Leo shrugged casually. "Capo Accardi can pay in cash... or with his life. Your choice."

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, gunfire erupted outside the room, echoing through the halls of the hotel. Leo's face snapped to attention, his expression instantly losing its smugness.

But I sat back coolly, relaxed even as gun fire grew louder and closer to the room. Some of Leo's men dropped like flies as the door busted open and bullets began to fly.

Enzo and Leo both ducked instinctively, but I remained seated on the velvet couch, one arm draped over the backrest, a crazed smile pulling at my lips.

There was something my enemies always failed to remember—I didn't trust anyone. And I sure as hell didn't expect anyone to keep their word.

I learned that as a boy, watching my father betray every promise he ever made to my mother. Watching the men closest to him stick a knife in his back.

We were never entitled to anything—especially someone's word.

So what kind of fool would I have been to step into Mancini's territory without a fatal plan of my own?

Sophie◆Cruz

Capo Accardi.

That's what they called him. It had been two days since Aiden left to God knows where for one of his business trips. I had no doubt he was growing suspicious of me. The more I uncovered about him, the tighter his gaze seemed to follow my every move.

But because I was determined to get out of his unbearable surveillance and get my life back, these past few days I grew more observant.

His security rotated every four hours like clockwork, never the same guard twice in a row. They were meticulous, always switching things up. Routine, but too precise even for someone of his stature.

Aiden owned the largest security firm in America, so sure, I could hold it to standard procedure. But this? This was beyond careful.

It told me one thing.

Aiden wasn't just a single man dabbling in shady dealings or harboring a dark past. He was an orchestrator of an entire empire of criminal activity—one that required extreme caution and control.

"You don't know how to ride a bike?" Walter's question pulled me from my thoughts as I sat at the kitchen island, picking at a plate of waffles.

I shook my head, feeling a tinge of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

"Your father didn't teach you?"

I swallowed a bite, offering a small smile before replying, "My father wasn't really around. He lives in another state."

His absence was accompanied by hundreds of postcards supposedly sent by him—though I later realized half of them were forged, written by my Lola and Lolo.

When I found out, I couldn't even be mad. In fact, I found it almost comical that they had tried to pass off postcards filled with fluent Tagalog as though they were written by my monolingual, white American father.

Walter frowned, the corners of the old man's eyes softening. "That's a damn shame. Teaching my girls to ride their bikes was one of my fondest memories."

Before I could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed behind me. I turned to see Chiara walking in, a fluffy brown Pomeranian tucked under her arm, with a little boy trailing behind her.

"Walter, can you please keep Michele occupied? He keeps trying to bite my dog."

I furrowed my brows as my gaze fell on the boy, who couldn't have been older than eight. He had dark hair and deep brown eyes, strikingly similar to the Accardi brothers.

"Michele, you've barely arrived, and already causing trouble," Walter scolded gently. The man hummed as he unlocked a drawer, pulled out a folder, and held it under his arm.

My curious eyes focused on the folder in his hand barely noticing Chiara sashaying over to me, leaning close. "I hate children," she whispered with a smirk before strutting off, the Pomeranian practically rolling its eyes as it was carried away.

I caught the little boy's big eyes that were now fixed on me. Who's kid was this? My body grew further tense as I thought of the possibility of Aiden having fathered a son.

"Michele," Walter began, motioning to me, "meet Sophie. She's been helping your cousin get better."

Cousin?

The boy ran to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, and despite my nerves, I couldn't help but melt a little. "Thank you, Sophie! I thought Aiden was broken forever. Will he play soccer with me when he's back?"

I chuckled softly as Walter gave me a knowing look. "Michele's parents travel often, so he visits once a month. But this time, he hasn't seen Aiden since the accident."

Yes, Aiden's 'accident.' A little scuffle, nothing more.

"I can't wait to see him!" Michele exclaimed, jumping up and down, brimming with excitement. "I miss him so much!"

As I watched the boy, so full of love for his older cousin, something cold settled deep within me.

The man I found despicable, dangerous, and utterly unpredictable was the very man this child adored. Seeing Michele so joyful about Aiden... it unnerved me. It made him seem—human.

And I hated it.

"Alright, Michele," Walter said gently, easing the boy's hyperactive energy. He set down the folder he'd been holding on to the kitchen island before scooping Michele up in his arms. "Let's let Sophie finish her breakfast. Why don't you show me what you've learned in your piano lessons?"

And just like that, I was alone in the large kitchen. Alone, except for the folder sitting right in front of me. My eyes drifted to it, my curiosity growing more aggressive as it ignited in my chest.

It wasn't like I was going to find anything incriminating out in the open. Walter wasn't careless—at least not usually.

But maybe, just maybe, it had been left there by mistake.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the folder and flipped through its contents. Most of it was mundane—business forms, documents I couldn't care less about. But then...

Two pieces of paper stood out. Just two.

My breath hitched.

Two single documents that seemingly described the inside transactions of illegal weaponry purchases.

Tae. (Filipino| shit.)

The feeling in my chest felt almost vindicating.

I got him.

◆◆◆

A little boy's scream tore me from my sleep. I jolted awake, disoriented, realizing I had dozed off in one of the many lavish lounges of the Accardi mansion. The sky outside was dimming, while my laptop's light illuminated my surroundings. I vaguely recalled skimming business real estate listings before sleep overtook me.

I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and my eyes were confronted with a text from Detective Vargas.

We need to meet soon. What's your schedule look like next week?

But before I could text back, the cries rang out again, high-pitched and frantic. My heart raced as I stood and followed the noise upstairs.

In the upstairs lounge, I found Michele in tears, his face red and wet with frustration. Across from him sat Chiara, looking bewildered and stiff, clearly out of her element.

"Michele, geez, I didn't even cry this much when I missed Paris Fashion Week," she muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

"He's not here!" Michele wailed, his small hands clenched into fists.

Aiden.

I stepped closer, my voice gentle as I crouched down to his level. "Hey, Michele. He'll be here tomorrow, okay? I'm sure of it."

The little boy whipped his head, tears streaming down his face. "You don't understand!"

I shot a glance at Chiara, who simply shrugged, her expression caught between awkwardness and concern. My focus returned to the sobbing boy.

"Michele, what don't I understand?"

"It's Sunday!" he screamed, his voice cracking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chiara freeze, her casual demeanor changing into something more serious.

Sunday. My brow furrowed. "What's so important about Sundays, sweetie?"

"It's when he visits where auntie sleeps!" The boy answered between sobs. "I was supposed to go with him today."

Auntie. He meant Aiden's mother. My mind raced as I pieced it together, my eyes darting to Chiara for confirmation. Her face had shifted—no longer indifferent and now filled with quiet apprehension.

"Aiden never misses a Sunday," she murmured softly. "Not once since I've known him. Even when he was in school in Italy, he'd fly back every week to visit her grave."

Aiden was not a typical man. If he was, I would assume his flight was running late or maybe he was still on his way. But Aiden was a dangerous man who was around other dangerous men. His life was always on a fine line.

And now I understood the worry—but I didn't understand why it clung to me so tightly, why it weighed so heavily for a man like Aiden. A man who had carved out every ounce of my will and held it, not delicately, but with a grip so strong his wicked hand should be bruised.

It wasn't just his absence that unsettled me; it was the fact of my reaction.

My humanity was a chain, binding me from taking any solace in the thought of the death of the very man who called me sweetheart.

I straightened, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll call him."

Chiara gets up almost absentmindedly. It was odd seeing her this way. She didn't seem to care or worry for anyone but herself, but at this moment it was different.

"I'm going to go call Matteo, he'll know what's going on." she says leaving me alone with the still crying boy.

I dialed Aiden's number, each unanswered ring tightening the knot in my stomach. His voicemail kicked in, cold and impersonal. I tried again, but the outcome was the same. And there, in the quiet tension of the room, with Michele's tear-filled eyes watching my every move, guilt gnawed at me.

The guilt of what I had done earlier.

The documents I had found and photographed, intending to send to Detective Vargas. I hadn't sent them yet, but now, with Michele's innocent tears and desperate concern for his cousin weighing on me, I realized something undeniable.

Aiden wasn't just a criminal. He wasn't just a cold-blooded killer.

He was a protector. A son. A cousin who meant the world to this little boy.

If the devil had sympathizers...

Maybe the devil had a heart.

◆◆◆

Imagine trying to ruin a man's life but his adorable little cousin guilt trips you. I hope you enjoyed! Please vote, comment, and follow. Random but when writing I always picture Walter as Anders from the show Dynasty. I feel like they have the same vibe and he was my favorite character in the whole show.

xoxo

-V

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