Chapter 1 - The Bloodstained Apron
The elegant luxury dining room was a masterpiece of intimidating wealth, illuminated by glowing crystal chandeliers and warm lit candles casting long shadows over large white floral centerpieces.
But the atmosphere at the head of the table was absolutely suffocating.
I stood completely rigid in my classic black and white maid uniform. A massive, dark red blood stain soaked the front of my crisp white apron, still wet and clinging to my ribs. I was in agonizing pain, but I refused to break eye contact with the monsters sitting at the table.
Isabella, the mafia boss's elegant new wife, wore a dark red one-shoulder evening gown and blinding diamond earrings. She glared at me with pure, toxic disgust, entirely unconcerned that her household staff was bleeding out.
"Shut your mouth," Isabella scolded, her voice cold and commanding. "You don't even understand Italian."
I looked at the wicked woman, my jaw tightening. I didn't cower.
"Yes ma'am," I replied, my voice resolute and absolute. "I do."
Sitting to her right was Carlo, a sixty-year-old cartel boss in a grey suit jacket. He ignored my bleeding chest entirely. He leaned forward and spoke in rapid, heavy Italian to the corrupt guests around him.
"Does Mr. Moretti know about the agreement?" Carlo asked in a deep, serious tone.
Isabella panicked. She snatched the heavy silver wine pitcher from the table and shoved it toward my injured chest.
"Emily, pour the wine and stay silent," Isabella snapped sharply.
Suddenly, Dante Moretti stood up. The towering, thirty-year-old mafia boss wore an all-black suit jacket and an unbuttoned black shirt that revealed lethal neck tattoos. His expression was extremely serious.
He stepped close to me, taking the silver pitcher directly from my trembling hands. He looked directly into my eyes with intense, terrifying scrutiny.
"You understood him?" Dante asked, his deep voice probing my soul.
I nodded, visibly stressed, my breathing shallow from the blood loss.
Dante didn't look at his wife. He looked at me, delivering his final command with absolute resolve.
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"Translate every word."
👉 Isabella’s arrogant face turned the color of wet ash, completely unaware that I was about to detonate a bomb in her dining room.
