Sold To The Mafia Don

Chapter 220 - 30~ Jace

The phone hadn’t stopped vibrating since dawn.

It started with a single alert. One I expected was the usual pre-market fluctuations, nothing dramatic. Then another buzz. And another. Then my CFO’s name flashed across the screen at an hour he’d never call unless something was burning.

By the time I dragged myself out of bed, the line between concern and anger had already blurred.

Navarro Industries wasn’t just stable.

It was ironclad.

Unshakeable.

Built to withstand storms bigger than rumors.

So when the numbers dipped slightly, not significantly, but enough to get the board texting like nervous pigeons, I knew it wasn’t random.

Somebody pushed it.

Somebody wanted disruption.

By the time my private plane landed in New York, I had gone through every article, every mention, every whisper of speculation surrounding the teaser Isabella Moretti had released. Her face was everywhere. Reporters loved a woman who combined beauty with blood scent. And Isabella didn’t just smell it. She bathed in it.

I didn’t want to be here today.

I wanted to be home with Mira.

Waking up beside her, kissing her shoulder, listening to her complain about how I disturbed her sleep. I wanted her hand in mine every second of the day.

But business didn’t wait for personal desires.

Especially not now.

My car arrived at the Navarro corporate tower in Midtown. The glass façade glinted under the grey New York sky, sharp and cold — a reminder of the life I built before I even understood what living was.

The moment I stepped inside the boardroom, every conversation stopped. Eleven faces turned toward me. Some were relieved. Some others were anxious while some others were pretending to not be panicking.

At least they were all silent. That was good.

The quiet gave me more control.

My CFO, Harold Lancaster, cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"You called at six in the morning," I said, taking the head seat. "I assumed it was important."

He swallowed. "We’re... trying to assess the situation."

"Then assess."

He flinched slightly and nodded, clicking a remote that brought a screen to life. Numbers, graphs, news thumbnails. And right in the corner — the teaser.

A still image of my wife and me walking through LA. Mira was laughing with a hand on her stomach. My arm was around her.

It suddenly made sense why the world was eating it up. It didn’t look staged. It didn’t look wealthy or elite. It looked real. Unfortunately, real moments were the easiest to weaponize.

Harold pointed at the graph. "We experienced a 3.7% drop this morning."

"That’s not a crash," I replied.

"But it’s abnormal," another board member added. "We haven’t had volatility like this in years."

They were right. And wrong.

This wasn’t volatility.

It was a test.

I leaned back in my chair, clasping my hands. "Someone wants to shake public confidence. They’re gauging reactions."

"But why now?" an older board member asked. "Our quarter was solid. The new logistics hub is performing beyond forecast. We had no scandals, no—"

He froze when my eyes locked with his.

He remembered who he was talking to.

I wasn’t new money.

I wasn’t born into boardrooms and PR-friendly scandals.

I had blood under my nails that would never completely wash off.

"This teaser is part of a larger strategy," I said calmly. "Someone wants to create doubt. Doubt becomes fear. Fear becomes pressure. Pressure breaks empires."

"Do you think it’s related to... your past associations?" Harold asked carefully, as if he was stepping on wet glass.

"No," I lied. "This is external."

Because they didn’t need to know the truth.

Not that Massimo’s ghost still lingered.

Not that someone from the old network had resurfaced.

Not that Isabella was working with someone I couldn’t yet identify.

Not that the woman I loved was now a target by association.

I tapped my fingers once on the table. "Show me everything."

Harold clicked through more slides. Social media numbers. Rising conversations. Predicted trajectories.

Then he hesitated.

"Sir... the teaser is gaining significant traction because of... well, because of your wife."

My jaw tightened as soon as I heard that.

"Explain."

He swallowed. "People seem... charmed by her. By your relationship. Some blogs are calling it a ’modern mafia fairytale.’ Others are speculating about her bakery, about where her capital came from."

My teeth clenched.

"They’re attacking her success now?" I said quietly.

"It’s speculation, nothing concrete, but—"

"But it spreads," I finished. "Faster than fact."

Harold nodded, almost apologetically. "The problem isn’t the accusations. It’s how fast the narrative is forming."

I closed my eyes for a moment.

Not out of frustration but to breathe.

Because the idea of Mira being dragged through this filth, of her being put under public scrutiny, questioned, dissected, made me want to burn the city down to the roots. But I needed to get it together.

"Who leaked the financial conjectures?" I asked.

Harold frowned. "We’re still investigating."

"You have three hours."

The room tensed at my voice.

I wasn’t yelling.

I didn’t need to.

Harold nodded vigorously. "Yes. Of course."

"And the board’s immediate concern?" I asked.

"Stabilizing public perception," he replied. "The teaser is vague, but effective. People are curious. Investors are nervous. They—"

"They want reassurance." I finished for him.

"Yes."

I exhaled deeply, then stood. "Then let’s give them reassurance."

Harold blinked. "How? A statement?"

"No statements," I said. "Statements keep flames alive."

"What then—?"

"Action."

My voice cut across the room with sharp finality.

"I will personally lead the next investor briefing. I’ve already instructed legal to review every public partnership. We’ll prepare updated transparency reports, file early projections, and give the market something stronger than rumors." I stated.

The board whispered among themselves.

I continued. "Navarro Industries has survived worse than a journalist with a camera. And it will survive this."

I paused.

"But make no mistake—someone is pushing this."

A few heads turned.

"And whoever they are," I said softly fighting back a smirk, "they’re not nearly as invisible as they think."

~Later, when the board dispersed for a ten-minute recess, I stepped out to the terrace overlooking the city. Cold wind brushed against my face. Cars crawled beneath me. The skyline glowed like a restless beast.

My phone buzzed.

Mira.

A picture message.

Her legs tucked under her on the couch, oversized sweater, a bowl of fruit in her lap. She looked tired, but beautiful as always.

"You okay?"

Her text followed.

My throat tightened.

Jace: Long meeting. Nothing serious. You?

Mira: Fine. Just missing you.

Jace: I’ll be home soon.

I wanted to tell her everything.

I wanted to tell her nothing.

She didn’t need this weight.

Not now.

Not while carrying our daughter. Not when our daughter was so close to being born.

I stared at her picture for a long moment, letting it calm the storm inside me.

Then my phone buzzed again.

Harold: Sir... you need to come back into the boardroom. You’ll want to see this.

My stomach tensed.

Back in The Boardroom...

The screen now displayed a livestream.

The documentary teaser had surpassed 4 million views.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the breaking news headline that had been added:

"ISABELLA MORETTI ANNOUNCES RELEASE DATE FOR PART 1 OF ’THE ROMANO EMPIRE’ — NEXT WEEK."

My blood went cold.

They were accelerating the attack by pushing. They were forcing the momentum.

Someone wanted chaos sooner than planned.

Harold turned to me. "Sir... she released an extended teaser. With commentary."

I clenched my jaw. "Play it."

The screen shifted.

Isabella appeared. She sat poised, charming, dressed in a sleek black dress, hair curled over one shoulder. Her voice was calm, confident, lethal.

"The Romano family is a name the world knows.

But names hide things.

Histories.

Choices.

Secrets."

Image flash: Mira relating with staff at the bakery.

"This documentary is not about scandal. It is about truth."

Flash: a blurred image of me with men long dead.

"Truth about power.

Truth about legacy.

And truth about what empire really costs."

The teaser ended with a close-up of my face.

Then a single line:

"No empire is built without shadows."

Silence immediately filled the boardroom.

It was a different kind of silence.

Fear, anticipation, anger....

I felt it all.

But above it all one thought carried through:

This stopped being about business the moment she put Mira in the frame.

Harold cleared his throat tentatively. "Sir... how should we proceed?"

I looked at him, voice steady as steel.

"We proceed by dismantling them. Quietly. Legally. Strategically."

"And Isabella?"

My gaze hardened.

"She wants war," I said. "We’ll give her consequence."

The room swallowed thickly.

I stood.

"Prepare the teams. Issue no press. Make no noise. Stability requires silence."

"Yes, sir." He nodded.

I walked toward the window, watching raindrops streak down the glass like claw marks.

Someone thought they could destabilize me.

They thought they could weaponize my past.

They thought touching Mira would make me reckless.

It wouldn’t.

It would make me unstoppable.

This wasn’t the beginning of my downfall.

It was the beginning of theirs.

And I always finished what others started.