The Mob Queen Wants to Claim Me for Herself (In a Reverse World)

Chapter 58: Famiglia

The limo’s tinted windows make the Italian twilight look even darker than it actually is, casting the narrow Monza street in shadows that seem to crawl across the cobblestones. I stare at the restaurant, if you can even call it that. It’s a weathered stone building wedged between two larger structures, with a faded sign hanging above a heavy wooden door. No windows, no menu posted outside, nothing to indicate it’s even open for business. The kind of place that doesn’t show up on any tourist maps.

My collar feels tighter around my neck as I swallow nervously.

Maddy sits across from us, her usually composed face betraying hints of tension. Beside her, Lara is taking deep, controlled breaths, her wild red hair pulled back into a tight bun that looks almost painful.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” Lara mutters to herself, her eyes closed in concentration. “Don’t stab anyone. Don’t stab anyone. Don’t stab anyone.”

This mantra is not exactly reassuring.

Caterina cups my face in her hands, her touch unexpectedly gentle. Her crimson eyes

“How generous,” Caterina replies, her voice dripping with honey-coated venom. “But I’m quite satisfied with my current market reach.”

Isabella’s smile doesn’t falter, but something cold flashes in her eyes. “Of course you are, dear. I merely thought with your... limited resources, you might appreciate some assistance.”

Camilla lets out a small huff, her ancient fingers continuing to turn pages in the leather-bound ledger. Her reading glasses slip slightly down her nose as she reviews the numbers with methodical precision.

“Isabella,” she says finally, her grandmotherly voice carrying surprising authority, “this has been your most impressive fiscal year... well, ever.” She looks up, her razor-sharp eyes fixing on Isabella over the rim of her glasses. “However, let’s not forget you spent half a decade hemorrhaging money while Caterina managed to reverse her mother’s catastrophic failures in less than half that time.”

Isabella’s perfectly composed face tightens almost imperceptibly. Beside her, Luna shifts in her seat, that perpetual smile faltering for a split second.

“The ongoing friction between your families is tiresome,” Camilla continues, closing the ledger with finality. “I see absolutely no reason to disrupt our current arrangements.”

Isabella’s expression hardens, her knuckles whitening around her wine glass. “Don Fontana, please, if you’d just reconsider. She’s squandering potential that could benefit us all.”

“The matter is closed, Isabella,” Camilla interrupts, her voice soft but carrying the unmistakable finality of someone unaccustomed to being challenged. She removes her reading glasses, folding them with deliberate care. “This discussion is over.”

Isabella’s jade-green eyes narrow to venomous slits as she stares across the table at Caterina. The hatred radiating off her is so palpable I swear I can feel it like heat waves across the table.

Caterina doesn’t even glance in Isabella’s direction. She simply takes another sip of her wine, crimson eyes focused on Camilla with practiced deference, as if Isabella’s silent rage is too insignificant to acknowledge. Her hand remains steady around mine under the table, neither tightening nor relaxing.

What really throws me off is Luna. She’s leaned back in her chair, that eerie smile fixed on her face like it’s been painted there. There’s no disappointment in her posture, no tension in her shoulders, just that same unsettling cheerfulness that somehow feels more dangerous than Isabella’s open hostility. She catches me watching her and winks, her green eyes gleaming with what looks almost like satisfaction.

‘What the fuck does that even mean?’