Page 88 of He Should Be Mine

I don’t say that she can have all the power if she wants it. I’ll be her puppet king, if that is what it takes. The only thing she can’t touch is Molly. Molly’s name stays off the table. Safe. The rest of the world can burn for all I care.

Nicolo fidgets with his cards. “So what now? We just wait?”

“No,” I say. “Now we plan. I’m getting reports that say Riccardo is getting paranoid. He’s bleeding money. I’ve got two of his lieutenants ready to jump ship if we time it right. But it has to be fast. Clean.”

Carlo leans in. “And if it’s not clean?”

“Then we make it bloody,” I say quietly.

There’s a long silence. No one flinches.

This is what the world is. It doesn’t run on fairness or justice. It runs on fear, leverage, and who can hold their nerve longest.

The basement is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator upstairs and the faint creak of the wooden floorboards. Above us, diners eat pepperoni slices and sip house wine. They have no idea a war is being planned beneath their feet.

I stare down at my hand. Useless cards. A metaphor, maybe. Or a warning.

Carlo sets his drink down and leans back. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“I was born ready,” I lie.

Truth is, I’m terrified. Not of the bloodshed. Not of Riccardo. Not of being caught.

I’m scared of failing. Of losing. Of letting Molly down.

He’s the one good thing in my life. The only soft thing I’ve let in. I’d scorch the earth to keep him safe.

And if I lose this game? And I don’t mean the poker. If Riccardo sees through me before I’m ready? Molly will be the one who pays the price.

I reach for my drink, the ice long since melted. I down the lukewarm scotch and nod once. “It’s time for the next phase.”

Carlo leans forward, elbows on the table, poker hand discarded. “We need a timeline.”

Dante nods. “Soon. Before Riccardo suspects too much.”

“He already suspects,” I say. “He’s watching me. Watching all of us.”

That gets their attention.

I flick ash into the tray between us. “He’s not paranoid for no reason. He’s just not paranoid enough.”

Nicolo leans back in his seat, arms crossed. “Then you need to keep feeding him the lie. Play the part. Loyal little soldato.”

“I do. Most of the time he thinks I’m his,” I say.

And I was. Probably would still be, if Molly hadn’t exploded into my life and changed everything.

But I don’t say that bit out loud. I’ll never be able to say that part out loud. It’s my secret. My secret and Molly’s safety. There would be no point in saving him from Riccardo just to put him in the hands of people who want to control me.

Dante clears his throat, sharp and deliberate. “So it’s nearly time to hit him. How are we going to do it?”

“We continue to cut his foundation,” I say. “Money. Men. Reputation. He thinks he’s untouchable because he owns the ports and has a chokehold on import routes. But I’ve been working Mario and the others behind the scenes. We can redirect a few shipments. Delay the product. Make him look weak.”

Carlo nods slowly. “Sabotage without getting caught.”

“Exactly,” I say. “One fuck-up might be forgiven. Three in a row? The families start asking questions.”

Dante speaks next, his voice gravel. “And the men loyal to him?”