Everyone Failed to Make the Mafia Boss Eat—Until the Quiet Waitress Placed His Mother’s Favorite Dish Before Him

By morning, news of the penthouse explosion had swept through the city’s underground like wildfire.

Vince Moretti held a secret press conference in an underground garage, declaring himself the new supreme head of the syndicate. He claimed Gabriel Hayes was dead, buried under forty floors of rubble.

Inside Apartment 4B, Gabriel listened to the broadcast on a crackling shortwave radio.

"Let him celebrate," Gabriel said quietly, leaning against the window sill. "A man who thinks he’s won becomes careless."

Norah brought him a mug of plain hot water—it was all they had. "What's the plan? You have no army left. Leo is gone."

"I don't need an army to kill a snake," Gabriel replied. "I just need the right bait."

He turned to her. "Vince built his reputation on greed. Tonight, he’s holding a victory summit at the South End Docks—where the syndicate stores eighty million dollars in untraceable bearer bonds. He thinks he’s taking possession of my liquid assets."

"And you're going to blow it up?"

"No," Gabriel smiled coldly. "I'm going to take it back. But I need you to do something dangerous, Norah. If you say no, I will find another way."

Norah held his gaze. "Tell me."

Three hours later, Norah walked into Benny’s Diner.

The diner was surrounded by Vince’s men, who were celebrating their boss’s supposed ascension. When Norah walked in, the heavy silence fell over the room.

Vince Moretti himself was sitting in the back booth—a greasy, heavy-set man wearing an expensive velvet track jacket and rings on every finger.

"Well, well," Vince sneered, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "The cook. I heard Gabriel kept you in a golden cage. Where’s your master, girl?"

Norah feigned terror, her hands trembling as she held a small, leather-bound black book against her chest.

"He... he’s dead," she sobbed, forcing tears into her eyes. "The penthouse collapsed on him. I barely made it out."

Vince’s eyes locked onto the black book. "What is that?"

"It’s his ledger," Norah stammered, stepping backward toward the door. "All the offshore account numbers. The passcodes to the dock vaults. He told me to burn it if he died, but... I just want money to leave the city. Give me fifty thousand dollars, and it’s yours."