My Mafia Don Set Off Fireworks for His Lover as Our Daughter Was Mauled

Chloe shattered the pair of antique whiskey glasses in Aiden’s study, Sophia Costa’s love token to him.

More than that, they were a symbol of the smuggling-line partnership between our two dock families.

The shards sliced into Chloe’s palm. Blood welled up. She didn’t cry and just stared at it, wide-eyed.

Aiden didn’t even look at her hand.

He grabbed Chloe by the back of her collar like she was a defective shipment and headed for the basement door.

I knew what was down there.

The dog room.

Three trained Dobermans raised to chew through traitors.

“Aiden—”

My knees slammed onto the cold marble. My voice came out raw. “She’s five. Whatever your rules are, take it out on me!”

He didn’t slow down. Under the dim hallway light, the side of his face looked carved from stone.

“The Rossi family rules aren’t for show,” he said. “Today she breaks a glass. Tomorrow she sets the docks on fire.”

His voice was colder than the basement steel. “You protect her now, you’re the one who gets everyone killed tomorrow.”

The iron door shut behind him.

The lock clicked, soft, polite, and somehow it exploded inside my head.

From the other side came the excited, hungry growls of dogs, and Chloe’s short, piercing scream— “Mommy!”

And then… silence.

When the door opened again, the smell of blood rolled out first, thick, heavy, impossible to breathe through.

I dropped to my knees and gathered what was left of Chloe into my arms. My whole body shook so hard my teeth chattered.

Upstairs, faint music and laughter drifted down like it was coming from another world.

I lifted my head. Through the small basement window, I saw the first firework burst across the night sky.

They were gold, blinding. The sparks formed letters, clear as a signature:

“I love you, Sophia.”

I carried Chloe up the steps. Blood ran down my forearms and dripped onto the stone.

In the living room, Antonio Rossi—my adoptive father, the Boss of the Rossi family—had just hung up a call.

He turned, his eyes landing on what I was holding. His face went dead white.

“Ella…”

Antonio shut his eyes for a second, then started dialing. Once. Twice. Three times. Busy signal.

Finally, someone picked up. A woman’s breathy giggle, like she was smiling against someone’s skin.

“Boss Antonio? Aiden is… mm… kinda busy right now…”

A vein jumped in Antonio’s forehead. He roared into the phone. “Aiden Rossi! Your daughter is dead! Dead in the mouths of those animals!”

Silence.

Then Sophia’s voice slid in, mocking, amused. “Boss, it’s just a disobedient little pup. Aiden already said it, rules matter more than blood.”

The line went dead.

Antonio’s hand shook around the phone.

“Ella,” he rasped, “you want to leave?”

“I don’t want anything.” I said. “Just one thing, let me take her and leave New York. Forever.”

He stared at me for a long time. Then he nodded, heavy and final. “The convoy’s at the side gate. Cleaners will handle… this.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I carried Chloe toward the side gate.

Her blood had cooled, sticky against my skin.

A black funeral van waited outside like a coffin on wheels.

Two men in black suits stepped out and silently opened the back.

“Boss’s orders,” one of them murmured. “Clean paperwork. A respectful process.”

“Cremation,” I said. “I want the ashes. That’s all.”

I walked to the black Cadillac parked by the side gate. It was Antonio’s arrangement.

When the engine turned over, I looked back at the main house one last time.

The lights on the rooftop terrace were still blazing. Shadows moved behind the glass, people swaying, raising their drinks toward the docks. Aiden’s party was probably hitting its peak.

The car slid smoothly through the iron gates and into the thin, late-night New York traffic.

I sank into the seat and closed my eyes.

Even now, my palm still remembered it, the slick, sticky feel of Chloe’s blood.