C06
With trembling hands, my dad reached out and gently rolled up my sleeve, his fingers brushing against the torn fabric. Beneath the blood and grime lay a familiar burn scar, one that had faded over the years but never disappeared. His hand froze as his eyes locked onto it.
I opened my mouth, my throat raw and aching and managed to whisper a single word, hoarse but unmistakable.
“Dad…”
In that instant, something in him shattered. Recognition dawned on his face, followed by a wave of anguish so fierce it seemed to rob him of breath. He shrugged off his tailored suit with urgency, draping it over my shoulders, his hands trembling as he wrapped me tightly in his arms.
“Lucía? Who did this to you?” His voice trembled with rage and fear. “I’ll kill them! I’ll kill every last one of them!”
Don’t Mess with A Mafia Princess
I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat. Exhaustion weighed down on me and all I could do was lean into the warmth of his embrace. Yet the moment he uttered those chilling words, the entire room seemed to shift. The air grew heavy with dread as every pair of eyes turned toward Frankie.
One of Frankie’s men tugged anxiously at his sleeve and whispered, “Boss, didn’t you say… this girl was an imposter?” His voice quivered with fear, barely audible.
Frankie’s legs gave out beneath him, his bravado crumbling in an instant. He dropped to his knees with a loud thud and like falling dominoes, his men followed suit, not daring to remain standing.
Everyone in the room understood. This wasn’t just any girl–they had humiliated and brutalized Giovanni Fontana’s precious daughter. Giovanni, who had clawed his way to the top of the underworld through sheer ruthlessness, was a man no one dared cross. And now, they had wronged the one person he cherished above all
else.
Even with fear gripping him, Frankie clung to a sliver of hope, his voice trembling as he stammered out, “Boss, are you… are you sure this girl isn’t an imposter? I–I remember Lucia didn’t look like this. Maybe… maybe you’ve got the wrong-”
Before he could finish, my dad’s hand shot out, striking him across the face with a force that sent him sprawling to the floor. Frankie’s head hit the ground with a dull thud and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He groaned, one of his teeth knocked loose by the blow.
“When has it ever been your place to question me?” my dad roared, his voice like thunder in the tense silence. “Call an ambulance immediately! If anything happens to Lucia, I’ll bury every one of you in this goddamn restaurant!”
Frankie, coughing up blood, scrambled to his knees, fumbling with his phone in a desperate attempt to call for help. His fingers shook so badly that he almost dropped the device.
The wait for the ambulance felt agonizingly long. My dad sat on the floor, holding me tightly in his arms. His usually composed expression was gone, replaced by one of raw fear and helplessness. Tears, hot and unrelenting,
streamed down his face, falling onto mine in rapid succession.
“Lucia, please… stay with me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m begging you… don’t die on me. If you do… I
won’t know what to do…”
I could hear the desperation in his voice, the way it trembled with emotion. My dad–the man who could
command a room with a glance, who had always been so strong and unyielding–was now reduced to this
trembling, broken figure, begging me to hold on.
I wanted to comfort him, to tell him I wasn’t going anywhere. I tried to lift my hand to wipe away his tears, but the pain in my broken arm was unbearable. I couldn’t even muster the strength to move.
Seeing no response from me, my dad’s fear spiraled into anger. He clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white as he shouted toward the restaurant staff, “Why isn’t the ambulance here yet?!”
Frankie, drenched in cold sweat, frantically dialed the emergency services again. His voice was shaky as he barked into the phone, “Where’s the ambulance?! The boss’s daughter is dying! Get here now!”
One of the waiters whispered nervously to another, “The restaurant’s in a remote area… It’ll take at least thirty minutes for the ambulance to arrive.”
Unable to sit idle any longer, my dad tried to lift me in his arms, ready to drive me to the hospital himself. But his assistant, a tall man with a composed demeanor, quickly stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Fontana, please. The young lady has multiple fractures. Moving her without proper medical care could cause internal injuries–or worse.”
For a moment, my dad remained frozen, torn between fear and reason. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered me back onto the floor, his hands trembling as he did so. He stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his every step radiating tension.
Suddenly, in a fit of rage. he grabbed a nearby chair and swung it toward Frankie’s head. The wooden leas
Don’t Mess with A Mafia Princess
creaked ominously under his grip.
Frankie’s eyes widened in terror. He didn’t even try to dodge. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the inevitable blow, his entire body rigid with fear. He knew what was coming and he accepted it. He owed his life and everything he had to Giovanni Fontana. If this was the end, he wouldn’t resist.
Just as the chair was about to strike, the distant wail of sirens cut through the air. My dad paused, his grip on the chair tightening until his knuckles turned white. With a growl of frustration, he slammed the chair to the ground, the impact echoing loudly through the room.
“I’ll spare your miserable life for now,” he spat, his voice low and dangerous. “Once Lucia wakes up… I’ll deal with
you.”
Frankie let out a shuddering breath, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. Blood still trickled from his mouth, but he didn’t dare to wipe it away. All he could do was bow his head low, silently praying for mercy.
