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THE UNDERESTIMATED HEIR: HOW THE MAFIA BOSS’S PLUS-SIZE ASSISTANT TOOK DOWN AN EMPIRE / Chapter 4 / 6

Chapter 4 - The Massacre at Valenti Manor

The Valenti Manor had turned into a slaughterhouse. Moretti mercenaries, clad in tactical gear, were clearing the villa floor by floor.

But they hadn't accounted for Helena Leone.

She knew the layout of the mansion better than Roman himself—she had archived the architectural blueprints during her first week on the job. Moving with silent efficiency, Helena led Roman through a hidden servant’s passage behind the library.

When two mercenaries turned the corner, Helena didn't hesitate. She dropped low, swept the legs out from the first man, and used his body as a human shield as the second mercenary fired. The bullets thudded harmlessly into the dead tactical vest. Helena fired twice through her shield's armpit, dropping the second shooter instantly.

Roman followed behind her, executing targets with cold precision, but his eyes never left Helena. She was a force of nature. The very body his men had mocked for months was a weapon of absolute destruction—solid, powerful, and unstoppable.

They made it to the underground garage, but they were cut off. Standing by the armored SUV was Don Moretti himself, surrounded by a dozen heavily armed guards.

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The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure terminal on my desk flashed a violent crimson. I hadn't slept in thirty-six hours, my eyes burning from staring at columns of ghost figures, duplicate invoices, and shell corporations linked to Dominic Rossi. But the red alert wasn’t from Rossi’s faction. It was an internal security flag originating from the estate’s main vault deep beneath the west wing.

The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure ter...

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scattering the light from the chandeliers. The muffled laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating, heavy silence that crept outward from the grand staircase.

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scatter...

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking out the clinical, terrifying silence of the kitchen. Evelyn Crane stood stiffly in front of my mahogany desk, her hands folded over her apron with the rigid precision of someone who had spent decades micromanaging every square inch of my estate. Behind her, Norah hovered near the doorway, clutching her clipboard like a shield.

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking...

"Well, well," Moretti sneered, lighting a cigar. "The great Roman Valenti, reduced to hiding behind his secretary. And to think, she’s the little Leone rat we forgot to exterminate ten years ago."

Helena stepped out into the bright floodlights of the garage, throwing her empty gun aside. "You didn't forget to exterminate me, Moretti. You couldn't find me. And now, you're going to wish you had looked harder."

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