THE WRATH OF THE MAFIA KING'S HIDDEN SON

2. LET HER GO

Ryan's POV

I stared at the divorce papers lying on the desk, the ink from Claire’s signature still fresh, curling slightly where the nib had dug too deep.

She had not hesitated.

Not a single flicker of doubt. Four years of marriage, and she did not even give me the chance to prove I was not guilty.

Not once in those years had we even shared a bed in the way real couples do. We had shared meals, shared a roof, shared dreams I thought were ours, but never the intimacy that was supposed to bind two people together. 

Yet somehow, this was where it ended. Ended with her looking at me like I was a stranger trying to break into her home.

I had thought maybe, just maybe, she would pause before signing. That she would remember the nights I stayed up debugging her AI code until my eyes burned, or the times I carried her half-conscious from her desk to the couch so she could sleep.

That maybe, she would remember the man who stood beside her through all those times.

But no. She just signed.

Then she said calmly, “We are done.” Then she slid the papers toward me and reached for her bag.

She had somewhere to be. Maybe another meeting, another deal or another empire to build. She did not even wait for me to sign, she just left.

The room felt too big once she was gone. The silence made me rethink my life choices, but I forced myself to pick up the pen.

My hand did not even shake as I signed, but my heart did as I realized, only a mirror won't laugh when you cry. If she could end us so easily, then maybe I could too. I was tired.

Tired of pouring love into something that gave nothing back.

I closed the folder, stood, and reached for my bag. But the door opened before I could leave.

Benita walked in first and right behind her came Harold, the butler. He stared at me like I was some street rat caught inside the mansion. Then there was Caleb, my ex brother-in-law, and Carol, the cousin who tricked me into what caused all these.

The same people who had never once accepted me as part of their family now stood blocking my way like they owned the ground beneath my feet.

Benita’s voice dripped with mock concern. “Ryan, we need to discuss something before you leave.”

“I have nothing to discuss with you,” I said flatly, adjusting my bag strap.

“You tried to sell our proprietary codes to a rival company,” Carol said sharply, arms folded like she was already the judge, jury, and executioner.

“We both know you were behind that. Y—”

“You will pay for the damages you caused,” Benita interrupted. “Claire may be merciful, but I am not.”

Harold stepped forward with practiced grace. “We are asking for fair compensation. We know you have a bracelet. It is white gold with pearls made from diamonds. That will do.”

I glared at all of them one after the other as my hand tightened on my bag strap. “That bracelet belonged to my mother. She is dead. It is not for sale, not for trade, and definitely not for you to own.”

Benita’s lips twitched in disdain. “It is a fitting payment to avoid going to jail.”

Before I could take another breath, Caleb moved. He stepped around the table and yanked my bag toward him. The sudden force caught me off guard, and I stumbled forward.

“Give it back,” I said through clenched teeth.

Caleb dug through it like a thief in the night until his hand closed around the velvet pouch. He pulled it free and loosened the strings, letting the bracelet spill into his palm.

The diamonds caught the light, each pearl shimmering with the memory of my mother’s gentle touch.

“Put it back,” I said, stepping forward.

Caleb’s grin was mocking and perhaps could be cruel. “This? This is wasted on you.”

I grabbed his wrist. “Give it back.”

“No, it is ours now,” And in one swift motion, he jerked his arm away, the bracelet snapping between us.

The delicate string tore, and the pearls scattered across the polished floor, bouncing, rolling, catching the light like tiny stars.

I flared up within me and bent to pick it up without a fight. Before I could bend to pick them up, Caleb lifted his foot and brought it down.

He crunched the broken bracelet with his feet. The crunch echoed through the room. Once. Twice. Again and again. Grinding the diamonds into worthless scraps.

I just stood there, my mind was boiling as I gradually clenched my fists.

Every part of me wanted to hit him. But then I remembered.

I remembered being a boy, standing in a doorway, watching my father’s fist collide with my mother’s face. I remembered her blood on the floor and the way she held me back, whispering, *Do not fight him, Ryan. Do not be like him.*

I stepped back slowly as I stared at Caleb. I turned for the door.

But Caleb shoved his palm hard against my shoulder.

“Where are you going? We are not done here.”

I tried to ignore him, but when he shoved me again, my restraint broke. I pushed him back, but not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him stumble.

He lunged at me, and for a second, I thought the fight was inevitable. But I was not going to give them that satisfaction. I moved around him as fast as I could and headed for the exit.

My phone buzzed when I was a few feet away from the exit.

I pulled it out with my breath still uneven. I saw the name flashing on the screen and it made me wonder why I still had the number and never called.

I answered. “What is it?”

“Your father is dead. He died yesterday.” the voice said without preamble. “The burial is tomorrow.”

I should have been sad, I should have felt remorse, but all I could feel was that the man who couldn't protect my mother is dead now and the world would move on — I would move on like nothing happened.

“I am not coming,” I said, “I do not want to be seen. I do not want to be known.”

“You should know who he really was,” the caller said. “He is the ruthless mafia king and he is also your father. His blood runs in you whether you like it or not.”

“I do not care. I am not interested in being part of his legacy.” I spouted angrily.

After a long pause, another voice came through the line. A voice I recognized instantly.

My old guardian.

“Ryan,” he said quietly. “Your father did everything he could to protect his family. Do you know why no one knows you are the son of the mafia king? Because he made sure of it. He had the power to find you anytime he wanted, but he did not, because it would have put you in danger.”

I closed my eyes. “Stop with the lecture. He left my mother to die. That is what I remember.”

“I am not asking you to forgive him,” my guardian said. “I am asking you to respect the man who shielded you from a world that would have eaten you alive.”

I stayed silent for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, I said, “Fine. I will go.”

The line went dead.

I needed a distraction and I knew exactly what to do. I grabbed my bike from the garage and hit the road. I could only hear the engine growling beneath me as the wind whipped at my face. The world blurred past the fields, empty stretches of asphalt, the occasional farmhouse. I rode until my thoughts started to settle.

That was when I saw her.

A woman standing by the roadside, waving at me. Her car sat a few feet behind her and it seemed it broke down.

I slowed, pulled over, and kicked down the stand.

“You need help?” I asked, pulling off my helmet.

She looked relieved. “Yes, thank you. It just… died on me.”

I leaned over the engine, my hands moving on instinct. Then her phone rang. “Sorry, I need to take this,” she said and stepped away.

“Yeah?” I could hear her voice and everything they were talking about.

“Yes… I know… but the mafia king has been dead for over a week,” she said. “They could not announce it until they were cornered. That is why the news was delayed.”

My hands paused.

A week?

I kept working, saying nothing. When the car sputtered back to life, I closed the hood.

“All done,” I said.

“Thank you so much,” she replied with a warm smile.

I wanted to ask her what she was talking about. But one thing was sure, they were talking about my father.

I nodded and got back on my bike. But the words stuck in my head. *Dead for over a week.*

Why would my guardian lie and say it happened yesterday?

When I was far enough down the road, I called him.

“You lied to me,” I said. “He did not die yesterday.”

There was a pause. “I am sorry,” he said. “I thought it would be easier for you to process if you believed it just happened.”

I let out a dry laugh. “It does not matter. None of it matters. He left my mother to die, and now he is gone too.”

“No, something you didn't know is that your mother never died a natural death neither was it a car accident, it was murder. Now, your father has been killed too, check the news tomorrow, they'd say it is murder. You need to come back and claim your father's empire before a stranger does.”

“You can handle it and my mother had a car accident. If my father hadn't chased her from the house, she'd still be alive now,” I retorted.

“No! You don't get it? This is more than anyone knows, Ryan. You can't hide forever. They will find you.” He said and I ended the call, not wanting to hear anything anymore.