The Godfather of Mafia: American Conquest

Rome, Piazza Venezia.

A convoy of pitch-black cars, ghostlike, rolled into the square.

Tourists who didn't know any better assumed it was the Prime Minister passing through. They excitedly pulled out their phones, only to have a dozen men in black suits appear out of nowhere and snatch their devices away. Local residents joined in, blocking anyone from filming. Even the police were there to keep order.

"You're violating our right to take photos!" one tourist shouted, snapping back to his senses.

A nearby officer barked, "Keep it down unless you want trouble!"

"What, is he more powerful than the President?" another tourist pushed back.

A local leaned over and told him, "He's the biggest mob boss in Europe."

The American tourist's hand froze in midair.

Fear is a universal language.

And on the European continent, the godfather Arthur was where that fear began.

Tourists from all over the world quietly deleted everything they had filmed. They didn't want to leave behind even a shadow of evidence.

The President wouldn't come after you.

But the Godfather? That was a different story.

Rothschild Estate.

"Sir, we've arrived."

Arthur opened his eyes from sleep, pushed the door open, and stepped out.

Bodies were sprawled across the main hall of the estate. Every key member and blood relative of the Rothschild family's European branch had been wiped out. The only one left alive was the family patriarch, Henry Rothschild.

Henry stared at the man they called the Godfather, a look of despair on his face.

Young.

Terrifyingly young.

"We never crossed the Mafia. So why are you trying to wipe us out?" Henry demanded, his voice full of rage. Since establishing themselves on the European continent, the Rothschilds had deliberately stayed out of the Mafia's territory.

"I suppose you won't rest easy unless I tell you. Uncle Henry, have you forgotten the Zexis family?" Arthur said, tossing out the words like a card on the table.

"Zexis?" Henry strained to place the name.

"Understandable. It was a long time ago. Nearly twenty years."

Henry's pupils shrank.

"So you do remember. Hard to forget, isn't it? Same for me." Arthur's smile grew colder.

When Arthur was nine years old, on the West Coast of the United States, prosecutor Simon Zexis and several of his children died in a gas leak. Arthur and his mother had been out at the time and escaped.

A year later, Arthur and his mother were at sea when pirates attacked. Everyone on board was killed. He was the only survivor, found sheltered in his mother's arms.

"How is that possible... you actually..." Henry's voice shook.

"Didn't see that coming, did you? I joined the mob and climbed to a place you could never reach." Arthur didn't linger on it. "And then I found out the truth. It was you. It was the Rothschilds."

The Rothschild family had colluded with foreign powers to devastate the American economy and profit massively from the fallout. His father, a prosecutor, had gathered evidence against them. But someone had leaked it, giving the Rothschilds time to strike first. To make sure there were no loose ends, they had even sent pirates to intercept and kill everyone on the ship carrying Arthur and his mother.

Not a single day in twenty years had passed without him waiting for this moment.

"You're Simon's youngest son... you actually survived..." Henry's voice trembled.

"I crawled back from hell." Arthur's expression went blank.

Henry let out a hollow laugh. "So it really is you. Is this what they call karma?"

"There's no such thing as karma in this world. Only revenge." Arthur's smile turned cold.

"Our allies will avenge us!" Henry screamed.

"No. They'll strip every last piece of Rothschild interest in Europe clean, then kiss the back of my hand and thank me for the privilege." Arthur said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Henry's face went ashen. Arthur turned to go, ready to have the Rothschild patriarch executed.

"Wait!" Henry screamed.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "What. You want to live?"

Henry didn't want to die. He was one of Europe's most powerful elites, a man who had played governments like toys. He couldn't die here like a piece of garbage. If he could just get back to America, he could rebuild everything.

"I have a piece of information you'll want. It's worth my life."

Arthur thought for two seconds, then turned back and walked over to him. He crouched down and quietly watched Henry's desperate struggle to survive.

The will to live was strong in this one. That much was clear.

"There's a famous line from The Godfather," Arthur said with a mocking smile. "Make him an offer he can't refuse. Go ahead. Let's see if what you have is enough to make me give up twenty years of hatred."

He waved for all his men to leave. Just the two of them now.

"Your sister is alive." Henry held Arthur's gaze.

The air went still.

Arthur's eyes turned ice-cold in an instant. "Say that again."

Seeing Arthur's disbelief, Henry rushed to explain, grabbing at the last lifeline he had. "Your sister is alive. You still have family. The hitman couldn't go through with it. He swapped her out with a dead infant. He tried to blackmail us later and we had him silenced, but your sister had already been placed under our surveillance. Word is someone's been looking to marry her recently."

"Who?"

"I don't know. We never ask questions about decisions made above us."

"You filthy bastards."

Arthur closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the ice was gone, replaced by something deeper and colder.

"Only I know her real identity. Kill me, and you'll never find her." Henry pressed on frantically. "And I have a DNA report locked in the safe. You can check it yourself. Proof that I'm not lying."

Arthur took a slow, deep breath. He could feel something churning violently inside his chest, but his face gave nothing away.

"Tell me where my sister is, and I'll let you live. But the next time we meet, I'll still kill you with my own hands."

"Can you promise me that?" Henry asked, his voice shaking.

"You don't have much choice but to trust me, do you?" Arthur said with a cold, dismissive smile. "I swear it on my name as the Godfather. Killing you is like crushing an ant. I don't mind letting you breathe a little longer. Now tell me. What's her name?"

Henry gritted his teeth. "She goes by Erin Caldwell now. She's a senior official in the CIA's Anti-Gang Unit. Funny how Simon's kids turned out. One becomes the Godfather of Europe, the other becomes a top anti-mob figure in America."

With a real name and identity, it would be easy enough to verify.

"Good. I'll save your life for our next meeting."

Arthur drove his fist into Henry's face, leaving him drenched in blood.

Henry coughed and sputtered for a while before he could breathe again.

He watched Arthur leave and finally exhaled, thinking, I'd made it out alive. Lucky that little brat hadn't died back then. Didn't think she'd end up saving my life. And to think this guy had become the Godfather. Once I get back to America and tell the family, I'll make sure both of you end up dead.

Henry struggled to his feet and staggered toward the front door.

He pushed open the iron gate of the estate. Cold wind hit him in the face.

Then he stopped.

Arthur was standing outside, smiling at him. The smile was elegant, almost gentlemanly.

"What... what do you want now..." Henry backed away in terror.

"We meet again."

"You bastard... you said..."

"I said I'd kill you with my own hands the next time we met." Arthur raised the silenced pistol in his hand, his voice as calm as if he were talking about the weather. "The moment you walked out that door, it became the next time."

The gun fired.

The bullet went through Henry's skull. He dropped to the ground.

Arthur holstered the gun and looked down at the body. "Henry, you go on ahead. I'll send the rest of your family down one by one."