The Mafia king stolen heir

- THE EYES THAT BETRAYED US

Brooklyn, New York - 3:47 p.m.

The moment Valentina Conti saw the empty swing swaying in the wind, she knew something was wrong.

Her heels crushed into the gravel as she sprinted across the park, heart jackhammering. Mothers turned to stare. A few kids paused mid-laugh. But all she could see was the red hoodie-the one she'd made Luca wear that morning-abandoned by the sandbox like a discarded lifeline.

"Luca?" she called, voice cracking. "Luca!"

No answer.

She spun in circles, scanning the park. The ice cream truck. The jungle gym. The woman with the golden retriever who was always there at the same time every afternoon.

No Luca.

She gripped the hoodie, her fingers trembling, and turned toward the security cameras mounted on the streetlamp nearby. Please, God, let them be working.

She didn't allow herself to scream-not yet. Screaming meant panic. Panic meant exposure. And exposure meant the man she ran from five years ago would know exactly where to find her.

Too late.

Her burner phone buzzed in her coat pocket.

Unknown Number.

She stared at the screen, and the world slowed.

She answered without a word.

Static. Then a deep, slow breath.

"You've been hiding something, princess."

She froze.

No.

Not him.

Not now.

"Dante..." she whispered. Her throat dried instantly. "What have you done?"

"Five years," he growled. "That's how long you've been playing house with my blood. Did you really think I'd never find out?"

Valentina couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"He's just a boy," she whispered. "He's-he's innocent."

Silence.

Then: "That's the problem. He looks exactly like me."

Four Hours Earlier

The morning had started like any other.

Luca sat at the kitchen table, devouring scrambled eggs with too much ketchup, his black curls falling over his forehead. She watched him draw on the placemat with his left hand, a crude picture of a robot with glowing blue eyes.

"Is that Iron Man?" she asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

"No," he said seriously, "it's a security bot with retina scanners and laser beams. I programmed it in my dream."

Valentina smiled, brushing the hair from his face. He had her cheekbones, her chin-but Dante's sapphire eyes. That cursed Luciano steel that gave him away with every blink.

She should have dyed his hair. Moved to Europe. Changed their names again.

But Luca deserved better than a life in hiding.

And now she would pay for it.

Present – Dante's Private Estate, Westchester County

The room smelled like leather and power.

Dante Luciano sat behind a monolithic black desk, watching the CCTV footage on loop.

A man in a gray hoodie. Black gloves. Unmarked van. Efficient. Silent.

Luca didn't even scream-just blinked at his captors, confused.

The same way Dante had blinked five years ago, when Valentina vanished into the night with nothing but a forged passport and a growing secret in her womb.

"You sure it's him?" Enzo, his consigliere, asked from the corner.

Dante didn't respond.

He just enlarged the frame, zooming in on the boy's face-those eyes, unmistakable, sharp and cold as glacier melt.

"I knew she had secrets," Dante muttered. "But stealing my heir? She could've put a bullet in my skull and it would've hurt less."

"She was a Conti," Enzo reminded him. "Their whole family was treachery wrapped in silk."

"No," Dante said darkly. "They were rats. She was the bait."

Valentina's Apartment - 5:16 p.m.

The door was already ajar when she returned.

She stepped inside, clutching her pepper spray. But she knew it was useless. The room had been stripped bare of warmth. The curtains fluttered in the open window. The photos on the fridge were gone.

He'd taken everything that made this place hers.

All that remained was a manila envelope on the kitchen table.

She opened it with shaking fingers.

Inside: a single photograph. Luca-sleeping peacefully in a grand king-sized bed, a silk sheet tucked up to his chin.

Scrawled across the photo in black ink:

"You ran. Now crawl."

-D

Tears stung her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.

Not yet.

She reached into the drawer beneath the stove and pulled out the burner phone. Dialed the only number that mattered.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then a voice answered: clipped, male, Italian accent.

"Report."

"He has him," she said. "Dante took Luca."

A pause.

"Then it begins."

Luciano Estate - 8:00 p.m.

Dante watched from the window as the black SUV rolled up the winding driveway.

He had expected resistance.

What he got instead was Valentina Conti-stepping out of the vehicle in heels, blood-red lipstick, and fire in her eyes.

She didn't flinch as two guards grabbed her arms.

"Don't touch me," she snapped.

Dante stood at the top of the stairs like a god carved in shadow. All black suit. Cold blue eyes. A presence that choked the air from the room.

"You came," he said mildly, as if they were old friends meeting for wine.

"I'm here for my son."

Dante smiled, slow and cruel.

"So am I."

She took a step forward, fists clenched.

"Where is he?"

"Safe. As long as you cooperate."

Her jaw tightened.

"I swear to God, Dante, if you hurt him-"

He descended the stairs, each step echoing like a death sentence.

"You think I'd hurt my own blood?" he asked, stopping just inches from her face. "No, Valentina. You hurt him-by keeping him from me."

She met his gaze, steel to steel.

"You're not a father. You're a monster with a trust fund."

He didn't blink. Didn't move.

"Yet here we are. You, back under my roof. Me, still the monster. And our son, finally home."

The words hit her like a slap.

"Our son?"

He leaned in, voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

"I'm going to show him what it means to be a Luciano. And you, principessa? You're going to watch."

Luca's Room - 9:30 p.m.

She found him in a suite bigger than their entire apartment, curled in the middle of a bed that looked like it belonged in a palace.

His eyes fluttered open.

"Mama?"

She ran to him, wrapped him in her arms, held on like she was drowning.

"I'm here," she whispered, burying her face in his hair. "I'm here, baby. I've got you."

"Where are we?" he asked, confused. "The men said I have a daddy now. Is that true?"

Valentina froze.

His hand touched her cheek, tiny and warm.

"Mama?" he whispered. "Do I really have a daddy?"

Before she could answer, a voice cut through the room like a knife.

"You should've told him sooner."

Dante stood in the doorway.

Luca turned.

Their eyes met-blue to blue.

And the boy smiled.

"Are you my dad?" he asked