Chapter 8 - THE FINAL TWIST (THE ULTIMATE REVENGE)"You made one mistake, old man," Alessandro said, not taking a single step back despite the gun pointed at his chest.
"Oh? And what was that?" Vincent smirked, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"You assumed my wife was just a maid."
Before Vincent could react, Sophia reached under her black skirt, pulled out a small, concealed silver pistol—the very gun Alessandro had taught her to use three days ago—and fired two shots without hesitation.
BANG! BANG!
The bullets shattered Vincent’s right wrist and collarbone. He screamed in pain, dropping his gun as he hit the floor, clutching his bloody arm.
Alessandro instantly swept in, kicking the gun away and pinning Vincent’s head to the concrete floor with his heavy boot.
"You poisoned my mother," Alessandro growled, pulling his own blade. "You killed my father. And you tried to take the life of my daughter."
"Wait... please... Alessandro!" Vincent gasped, coughing up blood. "I served your family for thirty years!"
"And today, your service ends," Alessandro cold-bloodedly whispered.
With a swift, ruthless motion, Alessandro finished the betrayer once and for all.
THREE MONTHS LATER: THE UNEXPECTED ENDINGThe Moretti estate was fully restored, brighter and grander than ever. Matteo had been permanently exiled to a remote island under heavy guard, robbed of all power and fortune. The syndicate was completely purged of traitors, and peace had finally returned to New York's underworld.
In the sunlit garden, three-year-old Emma was running around, laughing hysterically, chasing butterflies.
Sophia stood on the balcony, sipping warm tea, wearing an exquisite diamond ring that caught the sunlight.
Alessandro walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.
"She looks happy," Alessandro murmured, watching Emma.
"We both are," Sophia smiled, leaning back into his warm chest. "Who would have thought... a humiliated maid and a brutal Mafia Boss?"
"You were never just a maid, Sophia," Alessandro said, slipping an envelope into her hand. "You are the queen of this empire."
Sophia opened the envelope. Inside was a legal document—a total transfer of 50% of all Moretti legitimate assets into her name. But beneath the contract lay a small, handwritten letter with an old wax seal, dated five years ago.
Sophia froze. The handwriting belonged to the late Don Moretti.
She read the letter aloud in a trembling whisper:
"To my son, Alessandro. If you are reading this, I am dead. Know this truth: Sophia is not an ordinary girl you hired from the streets. She is the lost daughter of Giovanni Rossi—my true blood brother who was betrayed twenty years ago. She is the rightful heir to the Rossi syndicate. Marry her, protect her, and together, combine our bloodlines to rule New York forever."
Sophia dropped the letter, her eyes wide with absolute shock.
She turned around to look at Alessandro. "You... you knew? You knew who I was before Emma painted your face?"
Alessandro smirked, that rare, breathtaking smile appearing on his lips. He leaned down, whispering into her ear:
"I knew the moment you walked into my house. But I didn't marry you for the Rossi empire, my Queen..."
He pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss, as Emma ran up to them, holding a paintbrush dripping with bright purple paint.
"Mama! Papa! Stand still! I'm gonna paint both of you!"
May you like
Alessandro broke the kiss, looked down at his daughter, and laughed—a sound the underworld had never heard before.
"Go ahead, little painter," the Don said, kneeling down. "Make us pretty."
