Chapter2

The black sedan drifted sharply and slammed to a halt at the entrance of the family's underground command center.

The heavy iron gates parted automatically. Pale, blinding lights illuminated the long corridor, where heavily armed guards on both sides bowed in a solemn, grave atmosphere. This was the beating heart of the mafia's offshore military force. It controlled the deployment of all speedboats, helicopters, and tactical squads. It was my only lifeline to save my son.

I splashed through the puddles and strode briskly into the main control room. Dozens of surveillance monitors glowed with a harsh glare, and the operators immediately stood at attention.

"Deploy all offshore armed forces and initiate the Stage-One maritime dispatch protocol. I want everyone heading to the abandoned freighter sector in the open sea," I commanded, my voice cold and hard, leaving zero room for debate. "Execute immediately."

No one in the room moved a muscle.

The chief officer stepped half a pace forward, his expression grim, and reported in a lowered voice. "Ma'am, the deployment access is locked. The highest military command authority and the cryptographic keys for offshore mobilization were all transferred last night."

My steps faltered, and ice instantly formed in my eyes.

"Transferred to whom?"

"To Miss Bianca."

As those words dropped, a dead silence fell over the room.

Pure hostility instantly exploded from Rocco, his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles turned white. A barren, absolute chill swept through the depths of my heart.

It turned out it was never his negligence. It was never his ignorance.

His absolute, arrogant composure and his cold detachment as our son faced death were never born from blind confidence; he had already made his choice. In his heart, my child, my safety, and my years of devotion could not outweigh the security and favoritism he wanted to shower upon his first love.

The chief officer continued, his voice laced with helplessness. "The Godfather made a public decree last night. He stated that Miss Bianca was constantly frightened and lacked a sense of security. As compensation and protection, he permanently transferred all field armed forces and offshore dispatch rights to her. As of this moment, none of us has the authority to move a single boat, shell, or soldier."

I stood before the main console, staring at screens filled with armed forces that were well within reach yet completely immobilized. For the first time, the realization hit me with crystalline clarity: I, the mafia matriarch, was already nothing but a hollow shell.

I held the reputation, the title, and the empty honors, yet my own husband had personally stripped away every ounce of power I needed to save a life.

At the top of my terminal screen, the countdown ticked away ruthlessly: 06:18… 06:17…

On the video feed, Leo's cries grew increasingly faint. His tiny body swayed violently in the ocean gales, and his bare little feet trembled in mid-air. Beneath him, the shiver of sharks grew increasingly agitated, frequently breaching the surface and churning the bloody waves.

I took a deep breath and dialed Bianca's private number.

The call connected immediately, and her soft, innocent voice drifted through the earpiece.

"Sister? Why are you calling so suddenly?"

"Authorize it," I demanded, each word dripping with ice. "Unlock the military dispatch access and deploy the offshore speedboats and tactical teams. I am going to the open sea to save Leo."

A light chuckle came from her end. "Sister, I don't understand any of this. Dante said these things are too dangerous. He told me to keep them safe for him and that no one is allowed to touch them. I'm too timid; I wouldn't dare mess around with the controls."

"It only takes a few minutes to authorize the dispatch," I said, suppressing the coppery taste of blood rising in my throat, maintaining extreme restraint. "Save my child."

"But sister, Dante said the kidnappers want him. As long as he doesn't go, Leo is absolutely safe." Her tone was laced with perfectly calibrated innocence. "Aren't you being a bit too nervous? It's just a child getting a little scare; there's no need to mobilize the family's armed forces."

"And what if I refuse to authorize it?"

The last shred of warmth entirely died out in my eyes.

Before I could even speak, the sound of a door pushing open echoed, and Dante's deep, harsh voice came through the receiver.

"Elena, don't pressure her."

"She doesn't understand family business, and she can't handle the slightest shock. I gave her the authority so she could live in peace. You insisting on mobilizing the armed forces—is it because you don't trust my judgment, or are you just using this as an excuse to take your anger out on her?"

I stared at my son on the screen, his voice nearly hoarse from crying, and listened to the intimate, tender breaths shared between the two of them on the phone. Then, I suddenly laughed. It was a cold laugh, one born of absolute, devastating clarity.

I stopped arguing. I stopped begging.

"Rocco," I said, hanging up the phone, my voice terrifyingly calm.

"Ma'am."

"Cancel the deployment."

I turned and walked out of the control room. The cold wind of the rainy night smashed against my face, extinguishing the last flicker of delusion.

"To the old docks. We take my father's boat."

There were no weapons. There were no reinforcements. There was no family backing me up.

From this moment on, I would not rely on Dante. I would not rely on the mafia. I would not rely on anyone.

I was just Leo's mother.

Even if I had to brave the ocean entirely alone and dye the waves with blood, I would bring my child back with my own two hands.

The screen's countdown read: 05:49.