Rise of the Mafia Boss(from most underated to most feared)

CHAPTER 5: SELF DISCOVERY 2

The car sped through the dark.

Andrew's head was spinning. From the whiskey. From fear. From everything that had happened tonight.

He was pressed against the back seat, two huge men on either side of him. Their arms were thick. Their faces were stone. They didn't speak. Didn't look at him.

Andrew's heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst.

"Lesner sent you," he said. His voice was shaking. "I know he sent you. He's going to kill me."

No answer.

"You're taking me somewhere to chop me up, aren't you?" Andrew's voice got louder. "Just like they did to my father. Just like—"

"Calm down," the elderly man said.

He sat across from Andrew. The scarred one. The one who had spoken to him under the tree.

"Calm down?" Andrew laughed but it was crazy. Unhinged. "You grabbed me. You threw me in a car. You want me to calm down?"

He tried to push at the door. Locked.

He tried to shove the men beside him. They didn't move.

"Let me out!" Andrew shouted. "Let me out of this car!"

"Boy—"

"I'm not a boy! I'm a dead man! Lesner is going to kill me and you're helping him!"

The elderly man sighed. "Lesner didn't send us."

Andrew stopped.

"What?"

"You heard me." The man's voice was calm. Steady. "Lesner has nothing to do with this."

Andrew stared at him. His drunk brain was struggling to keep up.

"Then who sent you?"

The man smiled. Not a mean smile. Something else.

"You won't die tonight, Andrew. You won't be chopped up. You won't be put in a bag." He leaned forward. "Tonight, you discover who you really are."

Andrew didn't understand.

He opened his mouth to curse Lesner again—because who else could it be?—but the words didn't come.

The car kept moving.

Andrew sat back. His hands were still shaking. His heart was still pounding. But something in the old man's voice made him stop shouting.

He didn't believe him.

Not yet.

But he stopped shouting.

---

The car drove for another twenty minutes.

Andrew watched the city fade. Then the suburbs. Then they were driving through gates and down a long private road lined with tall trees.

Then he saw it.

A mansion.

But not like the Ciaro mansion. This was different. Older. Bigger. More like a fortress.

The car stopped at a giant iron gate. It was at least fifteen feet tall. Black steel. Intricate designs woven through the metal.

Andrew's breath caught.

Because at the center of the gate, carved deep into the iron, was a symbol.

A crescent.

Golden. Glowing under the security lights.

Andrew's heart stopped.

He knew that symbol.

He had seen it once before. The night his parents died. The night Mr. Ciaro opened the closet door and shoved that golden crescent in his face.

"Anyone carrying this crest is family. They will protect you."

Andrew's mouth went dry.

"Wait a sec," he whispered. "I recognize this."

The elderly man watched him.

"Isn't this—" Andrew leaned toward the window. His voice was low. Confused. "Isn't this my family crest?"

The elderly man smiled.

"You can agree with me now that we aren't here to kill you, right?"

He laughed. Short. Warm.

Andrew couldn't speak.

The gates swung open.

---

The car drove through.

The driveway was long. Lined with more trees. More security cameras. More men in black standing guard every few feet.

Then the mansion appeared.

It was huge. Three stories. Stone walls. Tall windows glowing with warm light. A fountain in the front courtyard, water spraying gently into the night.

Inside, through the windows, Andrew could see chandeliers. Marble floors. Expensive art on the walls.

It wasn't flashy like the Ciaro mansion. It was old money. Quiet power. The kind of wealth that didn't need to shout.

The car stopped at the front entrance.

The doors opened.

The men pulled Andrew out. His legs were weak. His head was still spinning. But he didn't resist anymore.

He walked up the stone steps. Through the giant wooden doors.

And into a hall.

---

The hall was massive.

High ceilings. A huge chandelier hanging low. Marble floors so shiny Andrew could see his own reflection.

But that's not what made him freeze.

It was the men.

Dozens of them. Lined up in rows. All wearing red. Red shirts. Red jackets. Red armbands.

They stood at attention like soldiers. Their faces were hard. Their eyes were sharp. They looked like the kind of men who had killed before and would kill again.

Andrew stopped walking.

His breath caught in his throat.

There were so many. Too many to count. A hundred at least. Maybe more.

And standing at the front, watching him with serious eyes, were faces Andrew recognized.

Faces he had only seen on TV.

A governor. The one who gave speeches about fighting crime.

A senator. The one who voted on laws that affected the whole state.

A judge. The one who sent people to prison.

They stood among the men in red. Not as prisoners. As equals.

Andrew's stomach dropped.

The elderly man stepped past him and walked to the center of the hall. He raised his arms.

"Everyone," he said, his voice echoing off the walls. "Tonight is the beginning of a new era."

He turned and pointed at Andrew.

"Let us welcome Andrew Chappatti. The rightful leader of the Chappatti Cartel."

The room erupted.

Clapping. Cheering. Whistles.

A hundred dangerous men applauding.

Andrew stood frozen.

His mouth was open. His eyes were wide. His brain couldn't process what was happening.

Leader of the Chappatti Cartel?

He was a handyman. A nobody. A boy who fixed electronics for a family that hated him.

And now these men—these killers, these politicians, these powerful faces—were clapping for him.

The elderly man walked back to Andrew and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Welcome home, boy," he said quietly. "Your father built all of this. And now, it belongs to you."

Andrew couldn't speak.

He just stood there, staring at a hundred men in red. Clapping. Waiting for him to lead.

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