Drawn by his daughter’s desperate cries, Mafia boss Alessandro Rizzano strode in from the adjoining corridor

The northern safe house was a massive, isolated concrete structure surrounded by high iron fences and dense forests. Inside the heavily guarded living room, Don Moretti paced frantically, his face flushed an ugly, panicked crimson.

Bianca sat on a velvet sofa, still wearing a luxurious silk dress, but her aristocratic arrogance had entirely evaporated. She looked pale, terrified, and utterly pathetic.

"You absolute, unmitigated fool!" Don Moretti roared, slamming his fist onto a glass coffee table. "You paid my own men to burn a Rizzano warehouse?! Do you have any idea what you have done?!"

"I wanted to hurt him, Daddy!" Bianca sobbed, her diamond jewelry shaking as she covered her face. "He embarrassed me! He threw me out like garbage!"

"He is going to slaughter us!" Moretti screamed, his voice cracking with sheer terror. "Alessandro Rizzano doesn't negotiate with arsonists! He is going to come here, and he is going to kill every single person in this house!"

"You have to protect me!" Bianca pleaded, reaching for his arm. "I am your daughter!"

"You signed our death warrant!" Moretti spat, pulling away from her.

Suddenly, a massive, deafening explosion rocked the safe house. The heavy steel front doors blew completely off their hinges, crashing onto the marble foyer. The power was cut, plunging the house into darkness, illuminated only by the frantic, sweeping beams of tactical flashlights.