All Chapters of THE MAFIA’S FORGOTTEN SON : Chapter 11
- Chapter 20
34 chapters
Silent rage: You feel it but don’t see it
CHAPTER 10The television screen burned.Not with the fire that had consumed the DeLuca Research Center, but with the image of it—looping, relentless, inescapable. Across Italy, from the cramped apartments of Naples to the penthouses of Rome, the same footage played: flames erupting from the mountain’s belly, smoke rising like a curse, the once-imposing structure collapsing into itself as if the earth had opened its mouth and swallowed sin whole.“This is Chiara Marchetti, reporting live,” the anchor said, her voice steady but laced with something deeper—fear. “We are receiving confirmation from Lombard emergency services that the DeLuca Research Center has been completely destroyed in what officials are calling a ‘catastrophic internal fire.’ There was no explosion. No gas leak and no prior warnings. Just fire—sudden, violent, and contained entirely within the lower levels.”The screen split. On one side, aerial drone footage showed the smoldering ruin, blackened steel beams jutting f
Watcher in the dark
CHAPTER 11The Valenti family had once been kings.Not of Milan of course—no, that throne belonged to the DeLucas—but of Genoa, the port city where salt and blood mixed in the harbor waters. For decades, they ruled the shipping lanes, the docks, the underground fight rings, and the narcotics trade funneling through the Mediterranean. They were brutal, yes, but smart—more businessmen than brutes, their empire built on corruption, not corpses alone. Their symbol was a serpent coiled around a dagger, forged in silver and worn only by those who had spilled blood for the name.But in 2008, the DeLuca syndicate moved.They didn’t declare war. They didn’t need to.One night, the Valenti patriarch, Don Luciano Serrano, was found floating in the Nervi marina, his throat slit ear to ear, a single playing card—the Ace of Spades—stuffed into his mouth. The message was clear: You’re out.Within weeks, half the Valenti captains were dead or disappeared. Their warehouses burned. Their accounts frozen
The Name Beneath the Suit
CHAPTER 12The darkness in the penthouse was absolute.Not just the absence of light—but a living thing, thick and suffocating, pressing against Adrian’s skin like a shroud. He hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. The fire at the research center still burned behind his eyes, but it wasn’t the only flame. Another one flickered deeper—older—more vicious.Her.Isabella.She came to him now not as memory, but as presence—a ghost wrapped in smoke and silence, stepping through the years like she’d never left.He saw her again—really saw her—not in the photo on his desk, not in the polished lies of the DeLuca estate, but in that filthy Genoa tenement, snow falling outside like ash, the walls sweating damp, the air thick with mildew and despair.He was nine. Shivering under a thin blanket. She sat by the window, mending a dress—her fingers trembling, her face gaunt, shadows beneath her eyes so deep they looked bruised. There was no food and no heat. Just the quiet hum of hunger.Then the knock.Three raps.
Silent war
CHAPTER 13The air in the safe house was thick—stale espresso, gun oil, and tension. The morning sun hadn’t yet risen over Milan, but inside Studio Legale Vero’s hidden chamber, the war had already begun.Adrian stood at the head of the steel table, his back straight, eyes scanning each of them like a general before battle. No suit today. Just a black turtleneck, sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing the faint scars that ran like rivers down his forearms—trophies from another life.“They know,” he said, voice low, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Salvatore isn’t a brute. He’s a predator. And predators don’t need proof—they smell blood.”Marco leaned back, boots on the table, cigarette dangling from his lips. “So what? Let him dig, he will get tired. We’re ghosts.”“No,” Adrian said, cold. “We were ghosts. Now we’re targets. That fire wasn’t just destruction—it was a declaration. And men like Salvatore don’t forget declarations.”He turned his gaze to Elena. She sat across f
Ghost in the courtroom PART 1
CHAPTER 14The morning light slanted through the tall, arched windows of Banca Nobile, gilding the marble floors in pale gold. The air smelled of polished wood, expensive cologne, and the faint metallic tang of vaults buried deep beneath the building. A soft piano piece played from hidden speakers—Chopin, something melancholic but refined.At the front desk, Signora Loxley adjusted her pearl necklace as she handed a receipt to a banker in a navy suit. “Thank you, Clive. My husband will be so pleased—the villa in Portofino is finally paid in full.”Clive smiled, all teeth and practiced warmth. “Of course, signora. Your account has been impeccable. We’re honored to serve your family.”She left, heels clicking against stone, clutching her leather portfolio like it held sacred texts.Near the private consultation rooms, two employees whispered behind a potted olive tree.“Did you see the transfer last night?” one murmured, adjusting his tie. “Two hundred million euros. Moved from Malta to
Ghost in the courtroom PART 2
CHAPTER 15“Adrian.”Elena's voice cracked across the silence, soft but sharp, as she called Adrian’s name. He stood there like a statue, hands buried in his pockets, face carved out of stone. His eyes weren’t just dark—they were bottomless pits, the kind you didn’t crawl out of. She just needed to know if he was still here, still breathing, still himself.“Adrian,” she repeated, her tone gentler this time, as if coaxing a dangerous animal.A flicker. His jaw flexed. He blinked once, then finally exhaled, slow and heavy, like a man dragging himself back from the dead.“I’m fine,” he said, voice flat.From the corner, Calvin shifted, arms folded across his broad chest. His scar caught the dim light, the reminder of a dozen battles won and lost. His tone was blunt, no room for bullshit.“You know what this means, boss,” Calvin said. “If we take this case, you’ll be standing across from one of your brothers real soon. There’s no dodging it.”Adrian didn’t flinch. He didn’t hesitate. His r
Ghost in the courtroom PART 3
CHAPTER 16The air in Riccardo Marchesi’s office had turned thick—like blood cooling in a gutter.Adrian stood just inside the door, briefcase in hand, eyes scanning the room like a predator assessing traps. Enzo DeLuca rose from the leather couch, his smirk still in place, but something darker flickered behind his eyes. Surprise. Fear? No—Enzo wasn’t afraid. But he was calculating.He stepped forward, adjusting the gold chain around his neck, his movements slow, theatrical.“Hmmmmm,” Enzo drawled, voice dripping with false charm. “If it isn’t the city’s favorite bastard.”Adrian didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just tilted his head slightly, a cold amusement curling at the edge of his lips.“Good to see you too… brother.”The word hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot.Riccardo froze mid-sip of Amarone. “What?” He looked between them. “Brother? What the hell are you talking about?”Enzo shot him a sharp look—cold, warning. “Not your business, Riccardo. Some things aren’t for politici
Ghost in the courtroom PART 4
CHAPTER 17The door to Studio Legale Vero opened, again and Adrian stepped in like a storm rolling off the Alps.Elena was waiting—leaning against the reception desk, arms folded, eyes sharp. The moment he crossed the threshold, she spoke.“Vitale came by.”Adrian didn’t pause. Didn’t even break stride. He kept walking toward his office, coat still on, briefcase in hand.“Book an appointment,” he said, voice flat. “I want to see him too.”Silence.The entire room froze.Marco looked up from his laptop, cigarette dangling from his lips. Dante’s fingers stopped mid-keystroke. Calvin stiffened near the security panel.He wants to meet Vitale? On purpose?Elena followed him into the office, closing the door behind her. “Why?” she asked, low, urgent. “After everything we know about them? After what they are?”Adrian removed his coat, hung it with precision. “Because for now,” he said, turning to face her, “you don’t need to know.”Her jaw tightened. “You just need to trust me.”“I do,” he s
Ghost in the courtroom PART 5
CHAPTER 18The house now stank of gunpowder, blood, and shattered glass.Adrian sat on the edge of what was left of his bar, shirt torn, chest heaving, one hand pressed to the deep gash along his arms. Blood seeped between his fingers—dark, slow, not arterial, but bad enough. Marco knelt beside him, pressing a wad of gauze to the cut on his forearm, cursing in thick Neapolitan under his breath.“Strunz, you move like a dead man,” Marco muttered. “Next time, don’t play hero. Just shoot first.”Adrian didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle jumped beneath his skin. Pain flared with every breath, but his eyes—those bottomless black pits—were clear, focused and calculating.Dante stood by the bodies again, scanning the bodies with a thermal imager. No trackers and no comms.“How did you even get here?” Adrian asked, voice low, strained.Marco looked up. “We didn’t know about the assassins. But Dante here…” He jerked a thumb at the hacker. “Got a feeling.”Dante didn’t turn. “
Ghost in the courtroom PART 6
CHAPTER 19The first words weren’t spoken in the courtroom. They came through the television.“Breaking news from Milan: the trial of the century is set to begin today. Two of Italy’s most untouchable men—Enzo DeLuca, heir to the infamous DeLuca family, and Senator Riccardo Marchesi, son of the industrial magnate—will face the preliminary hearing that could lead to a full indictment. And leading the prosecution… is the mysterious Adrian Morgan.”Across the city, screens flickered with the report.In the slums of Quarto Oggiaro, whole families gathered around battered televisions, static humming, children wide-eyed. Mothers held their babies tighter, fathers clenched their jaws. These were people who had been spat on by men like Enzo and Riccardo, who had seen their sons vanish, their daughters broken. Now, for once, the world might see their pain in the light.A woman whispered to no one, “Let him win. Dio mio… let him win.”In the bars of Via della Spiga, rich men and women sipped cha