Page 45 of Malicious Claim

Matteo exhaled, rubbing his temple as if the mere act of speaking with his son was a very tedious task. "You've always been bold, but boldness without clairvoyance is a huge liability."

Makros leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. "We're getting our man out of prison. The ambassador is too preoccupied with his daughter to worry about anything else, and the police are chasing ghosts. It's all going according to what I planned."

Matteo shook his head. "You're blinded by your own confidence."

Makros met his father's gaze, unwavering. "And you're subdued by your own paranoia. That's the difference between you and I."

A tense silence stretched between them before Matteo finally leaned back, conceding the argument.

"After this mission," Don Matteo said, finally changing the subject, "I need you to handle something in Naples. Our partners there are getting... too ambitious."

Makros gave a small nod. "Consider it done."

Matteo swirled his drink once more before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. "You've killed three people since the Crawford massacre."

Makros didn't say a word, he waited for the continuation.

"The maid, the thief, and the agent," he mused. "Truly some unnecessary losses."

Makros let out an amused snort. "You say that as if their lives mattered."

The Don took a close look at him. "Did they deserve to die?"

A faint smile crossed his lips. "They earned it."

Matteo sighed, downing the rest of his drink. "Make sure you don't lose sight of why we do this."

Makros stood, taking that as his cue to leave. "I never do."

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving his father in the dimly lit room.

Makros shut the door, making his way back down the long corridor. The violin sound served as a backdrop as his father's words replayed in his mind. His father was an old school Sicilian Mafioso, he would never be able to fully grasp the weight of the new world he was carving out for the Cretes.

He rounded the corner into his personal quarters and paused abruptly. The door to his office was slightly ajar and he frowned.

Someone was inside.

He instinctively reached for his gun tucked behind his waistband and aimed it as he stepped inside but lowered it upon seeing that it was Leila.

"Damn it Leila, who the hell let you in here? Hope you didn't mess with my things?"

Makros thought to himself that he needed better security as he tucked the gun away.

"So," she said coolly, her arms folded. "This was the business you had with Vanessa?"

Makros tilted his head, offering a small smirk. "That's the business of the Mafia,dolcezza."

Leila scoffed. "You kidnapped a politician's daughter. I should've known you were scheming and probably warned her. What on earth did she do to you?"

He didn't bother with an answer, instead he said, "Vanessa is safe. My men won't harm her."

Leila stepped closer, placing something in his breast pocket. The diamond wedding ring.

"It's over Makros." Her voice was steady. "I'm breaking free from this forced union. I'm done being manipulated."

He regarded her with quiet amusement. "You can't be serious."

Leila exhaled harshly, her fingers curling into fists. "I'm dead serious, Makros. And you can't force me to stay."