When I slapped my husband’s mistress, he broke my leg. He locked me in the basement, telling me to reflect.
I called my dad, who was a gangster boss, and said, “Dad, don’t let a single one of the family survive.”
After I slapped my husband’s mistress, he broke my leg and threw me in the basement. So I called my father, the head of the Romano crime family. “Dad,” I said, “don’t leave a single one of them alive.”
Chapter 1: The Slap and the Sound of Breaking Bones
The November rain lashed against the windows of the secluded villa in Saddle River like water bullets. But that sound was nothing compared to my scream as Richard, my husband of five years, brought his baseball bat down on my left shin.
CRACK!
The pain was blinding and numbing, causing me to collapse onto the cold marble floor.
“That’s the price for your insolence, Elena,” Richard hissed, adjusting the cuff of his expensive shirt stained with a few drops of blood. He stood towering over me, his eyes devoid of any marital affection, only the cruelty of a beast shedding its mask.
A few meters away, Sofia—his hot blonde mistress—sat on the sofa, a glass of red wine in her hand, looking at me with a mixture of fear and schadenfreude. Her cheek still bore the red imprint of my slap from ten minutes ago.
“Honey, did you have to be so rough?” Sofia asked, her voice a mix of childish whine and trembling.
“She needs to learn her place,” Richard spat on the floor. He grabbed my hair and dragged me toward the basement door. My broken leg dragged across the floor, each impact sending me reeling with pain.
He threw me down the wooden stairs. I tumbled, hitting each step before landing in the damp, dark cellar.
“Down there and think it over!” Richard yelled down. “When you agree to sign the share transfer papers, I’ll call a doctor. Otherwise, you’ll rot down there.”
The cellar door slammed shut. The sound of the lock clicking echoed like a hammer hammering into a coffin.
I lay there, gasping for breath, drenched in cold sweat. Richard wasn’t just having an affair. He wanted to take over Romano Shipping—the legitimate shipping company my father had entrusted to my wife and me. He thought that with my father, Don Vito Romano, old and retired, he could stage a rebellion.
He underestimated the blood flowing in my veins.
I fumbled in the darkness. Richard had confiscated my phone before beating me. But he didn’t know that in this cellar—where my father used to hold secret meetings in the ’90s—there was always an emergency telephone line hidden behind the wine cellar, an analog line that couldn’t be tapped or cut.
I dragged myself along, biting my lip to keep from screaming in pain. I found the dusty, old-fashioned rotary dial telephone.
I picked it up. There was a signal.
I dialed. A series of numbers I’d known by heart since I learned to speak.
“Luigi Italian Restaurant, speaking,” a deep, hoarse voice rang out after two rings. It was the code.
“Dad,” I said, my voice breaking but firm. “It’s me, Elena.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end. “Elena? Why are you calling this number? What’s wrong?”
“Richard,” I gasped. “He’s having an affair. I slapped her. He broke my leg. He locked me in the basement. He wants to take over the company.”
“He broke your leg?” My father’s voice deepened, colder than an iceberg. It wasn’t the voice of a frail old father. It was the voice of The Godfather.
“Yes, Dad…” I took a deep breath, swallowing my tears and weakness. I knew the rules. Once I called this number, there was no turning back. No forgiveness.
“Dad,” I said each word clearly. “Don’t let any of them survive.”
“Understood, daughter. Hold on. 15 minutes.”
Chapter 2: The Confidence of a Traitor
In the living room, Richard was pouring more wine for Sofia. He felt incredibly euphoric.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sofia asked anxiously. “Her father… he’s Vito Romano. They say he once buried his rivals alive under concrete.”
“Old Vito,” Richard sneered, draining his glass. “He has Parkinson’s, his hands tremble so much he can’t even hold a spoon. The Romano empire is just an empty shell now. I’ve bribed all his Capos. Tonight, when Elena signs the papers, I’ll be the new boss of New Jersey.”
He looked at his watch.
“I’ll give that bitch an hour to feel the pain. Then I’ll go down and force her to sign.”
Richard had no idea that his mansion had been surrounded. But not by a large army.
Only two black SUVs pulled up in front of the gate. No lights, no sirens.
Four men stepped out. They were dressed in black suits, moving silently like ghosts. The one leading was an old man with a cane, walking slowly but steadily.
That was Don Vito Romano.
Richard’s guards at the gate – the men Richard had paid double to betray the Romano family – saw the old man. They were about to draw their guns.
But before they could pull the trigger, two tiny “whoosh” sounds came from the silencers of Vito’s companions. Two guards fell to the ground, peacefully as if asleep.
Vito stepped over their bodies, without even glancing back. He entered the main door.
Chapter 3: The Feast of Death
Richard was kissing Sofia’s neck when the main door burst open.
He jumped, grabbing the pistol on the table. “Who is it?”
Vito Romano stood in the doorway. The light from the crystal chandelier shone down on his silver-white hair and his gaunt, weathered face.
His face was wrinkled. He leaned on his cane, looking at Richard with the eyes of an old lion watching a hyena trying to snatch a piece of meat.
“Vito?” Richard was stunned. He looked behind the boss. Only three bodyguards were there.
Richard burst into laughter, his initial fear vanishing. “Old man, you’ve come here to save your daughter? With just these three henchmen? I have 20 gunmen guarding the house!”
“They’re all dead,” Vito said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it echoed throughout the large room.
“You’re lying!” Richard yelled. He picked up the walkie-talkie. “Alpha 1! Report! Kill them all!”
Only the static crackled in response.
Richard’s face began to change color. He pointed his gun at Vito. “Fine. If you want to die with your daughter, I’ll oblige. I’ll kill you right here and…”
BANG!
A deafening gunshot echoed through the living room.
Richard didn’t pull the trigger.
He stood frozen, his eyes wide, staring down at his chest. A crimson bloodstain bloomed on his white shirt.
He slowly turned his head.
Sofia.
His hot mistress, the one he considered his “reward,” stood there. In her hand was a smoking pistol.
“Sofia… why…?” Richard whispered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Sofia didn’t answer. Her face no longer showed fear or coquetry. It was cold, sharp, and professional.
She stepped forward, kicking Richard’s gun away.
“My name isn’t Sofia,” she said. “I’m Luca. And I’m Don Vito’s adopted daughter.”
Richard fell backward, his eyes wide open in death. He had calculated everything, bribed everyone, but he forgot one thing: Prostitution wasn’t the only profession for beautiful girls in the underworld.
He brought a Romano assassin home, slept with her, and thought he was the conqueror.
Chapter 4: The Twist in the Basement
Vito nodded to Luca (Sofia). “Well done.”
“I’m sorry, Godfather, for letting her get hurt,” Luca bowed his head. “He acted too quickly; I couldn’t intervene in time without revealing my cover.”
“Go down and save your sister,” Vito ordered.
They broke down the basement door. Luca rushed down and picked me up. The pain in my leg made me groan, but when I saw my father, I burst into tears.
“Father…”
Vito looked at my broken leg. His jaw tightened. He turned to look at Richard’s body.
“Burn it,” he said curtly.
“Dad, wait,” I said, my voice weak. “There’s one more person.”
“Who?”
“The real mastermind.”
Vito frowned. “Isn’t it Richard?”
“No,” I shook my head, sweat pouring down my face. “Richard is just a pawn. He’s not smart enough to manipulate the Cayman River bank accounts. There’s someone behind him. Someone who wants to wipe out the Romano family completely.”
“Who is it?”
I looked him straight in the eye.
“It’s my older brother. Tony.”
Vito recoiled, as if he’d been shot. Tony was his eldest son, the brother I always respected, who ran the New York business.
“How do you know?” Vito asked, his voice trembling.
“When Richard hit me,” I said. “He answered the phone. He said, ‘Tony, it’s done. Your sister’s been incapacitated. Get the money ready.’ He put it on speakerphone. I heard his voice. He said, ‘Clean it up. Don’t let Dad know.'”
Silence fell. My physical pain was nothing compared to the pain in my father’s eyes. His greatest enemy wasn’t an outsider, but the son he had placed the most hope in.
Tony wanted to kill me to seize my inheritance, and perhaps he was waiting for my father to die so he could take everything.
Vito closed his eyes. He aged ten years in an instant.
“Hello,” he said into the satellite phone. “Bring Tony here. Immediately. Tell him I had a stroke.”
Chapter End: The Last Supper
An hour later.
Tony burst into the house, feigning panic. “Dad! How are you? I heard…”
He stopped.
In the living room, no one had suffered a stroke. Richard lay dead on the floor. Sofia (Luca) was cleaning her gun. I sat in a wheelchair, my leg in a cast. And Dad sat in the armchair, staring at him.
“Tony,” Dad said softly. “Your sister fell. Are you heartbroken?”
“I…of course I am,” Tony stammered, his eyes darting around searching for an escape route. “Richard did it? I’ll kill him!”
“He’s dead,” I said. “And he confessed everything before he died. About the Cayman account. About your plan.”
Tony’s face turned pale. He backed away towards the door. “Dad, listen to me. He’s lying! He wants to split us apart!”
Vito stood up, leaning on his cane.
“Tony, do you remember our family’s number one rule?”
“Family comes first,” Tony whispered.
“Right. And anyone who betrays the family…” Vito raised his cane.
“…That person is no longer family.”
Tony pulled out his gun. He intended to shoot his father. Greed had consumed his conscience.
But Luca was faster.
Bang.
The bullet pierced Tony’s hand holding the gun. He screamed and collapsed.
Vito watched his son writhe in agony. He didn’t kill him. Death would have been too easy.
“Smash his legs,” Vito ordered his bodyguard. “Just like he did to his sister. Then throw him out of this state. If I ever see him on the East Coast again, I’ll kill him.”
I turned away, unable to bear the horrific sight. The sound of breaking bones mingled with Tony’s screams.
That night, Richard’s mansion burned down. A fire caused by a “gas leak.” The police concluded that Richard and his mistress died in the blaze.
I was taken to my father’s house.
The next morning, I sat in my wheelchair in the garden, watching my father trim the rose bushes.
“Dad,” I called.
“Yes, my child?”
“The words I said on the phone… ‘Don’t let any of them survive.’ I didn’t expect… ‘they’ to include Tony.”
Vito stopped. He turned and looked at me with a sad but resolute gaze.
“Elena, in our world, ‘They’ are traitors. It doesn’t matter what their last name is. When a wolf bares its fangs at its pack, it’s no longer a wolf. It’s a plague.”
He stepped forward and kissed my forehead.
“Now you are the only one. Be strong. Because from now on, you will be the Boss Lady.”
I looked down at my broken leg. It hurt, but it would heal. And when it healed, I would stand up, not as a victim, but as the head of the Romano family.
