No Secretary Survived a Week With the Sicilian Mafia Boss Until the Clumsy Girl He Hired by Mistake Found the Secret That Could Destroy Him

The fortieth floor was transformed. The intimidating mafia aesthetic was temporarily replaced by the sterile, boring atmosphere of a failing corporate entity.

Matteo had his men dressed in cheap suits, looking nervous and defeated. Chloe had spent twenty-four hours creating the fake "doomsday" ledgers, printing them on cheap paper to add to the illusion of bankruptcy.

At 2:00 PM, the private elevator chimed.

Vinnie Costa stepped out. He was accompanied by two massive bodyguards and a thin, sweating accountant carrying a silver briefcase.

“Security check, Mr. Costa,” Matteo said, stepping in front of the double doors.

Costa sneered. “You think I’d bring guns to a legal signing, DeLuca?”

“We like to be sure.”

Matteo’s men patted them down. They were clean. Costa was so confident in his legal victory that he hadn't bothered with muscle. He wanted to win with paper.

“Right this way,” Matteo gestured toward the glass-walled boardroom.

Inside, Lorenzo sat at the head of the long oak table. He looked exhausted. Chloe had specifically told him not to sleep the night before, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look like a defeated man.

“Vinnie,” Lorenzo said, his voice flat.

“Lorenzo.” Costa took the seat opposite him, kicking his feet up onto the table. “Look at you. Reduced to selling your father’s empire because you couldn't handle the heat of going straight.”

“Just show me the proof of funds,” Lorenzo said, staring at the table. “If the money is real, I’ll sign.”

Costa snapped his fingers. His accountant placed the silver briefcase on the table, opened it, and extracted a sleek black hard drive.

“Fifty million in liquid assets, ready to transfer the moment you sign over the holding company,” Costa gloated. “Plug it into your laptop, verify it with your bank. Then, get out of my city.”

Lorenzo pulled a laptop toward him. He took the hard drive.