I shook my head. “No. No, that’s wrong. I planted that bomb. I ordered that bomb. It was fake. told them to use smoke only. I gave the order. It wasn’t supposed to detonate. It was just to scare her. Make her beg. That’s all.”
Luca reached into his coat. Pulled out a drive. “Sir, I didn’t want to show you this, but… this is from the CCTV we recovered from a nearby security post.”
He handed it over. I plugged it in without a word.
The footage played on the wall screen. Black and white. No sound. Then the explosion. Not smoke. Not pressure. Fire.
And Geneva… she crawled out of it holding that boy. Burned. Screaming. Blood all over her Screaming for help.
I dropped the remote. It clattered on the floor.
My breath caught in my throat. My chest caved in.
I gripped the edge of the bar, then let go. Marched straight out the room and slammed my fist into the first wall I saw. Felt the bone crack.
Blood ran down my knuckles, but I didn’t stop. I hit it again. And again.
“I didn’t mean to kill him,” I whispered to myself, voice raw.
I never cared if they were mine or not. They were still her kids. And I killed one of them.
Luca then gave me the location.
Grave 42, east sector, the quiet part of the Salvacion cemetery. Where we bury blood, but not honor.
I didn’t say a word to him. Just grabbed my keys and left. I drove there in silence. Windows down, smoke swirling around me. Burned through three sticks of cigarettes before I even reached the damn gate. I sat there, engine idling, heart beating like a war drum I didn’t ask for. Eli. That name used to mean little. Now it clung to my chest.
I lit another. Eyes locked on that gate. Couldn’t get my hand to touch the handle. Couldn’t get my legs to move.
What the fuck would I say?
Sorry, kid, I only meant to scare your mother? Sorry, I treated your life like a bargaining chip?
I threw the cigarette out the window. Revved the engine and drove off.
I don’t kneel for graves I made. I don’t grieve for mistakes. But the one who switched that bomb? He’s dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Back at the compound, I stormed into the war room. My voice was already roaring before the door shut behind me.
“Bring in every fucking name that touched that bomb setup. I want their files, their addresses, their parents‘ graves dug up if I have to.”
Luca was already scrambling. “We’re on it, Boss.”
One of my old capos came in. Bastard looked sweaty and pale.
I slammed my palm on the table. “Talk.”
He stammered, “W–we didn’t know, Boss. It wasn’t us. We followed your orders. We used the smoke payload like you said.”
“Then who the fuck changed it?” I growled.
He shook his head, eyes darting around like a rat caught in a trap. “The tech guy. Jorge. He handled the final wiring. But he disappeared the day after.”
I slammed my chair across the room. “Disappeared? You’re telling me some ghost with a screwdriver killed a fucking child under my nose and none of you saw it?”
Luca stepped forward, cautious. “Boss… Jorge hasn’t been seen since. He’s not answering any burner. His safehouse in Tondo’s cleared out. Wife’s gone too.”
“Then find him,” I snapped. “I don’t care if he’s hiding under some nun’s skirt in fucking Morocco Drag him back. I want him breathing long enough to explain why my plan turned into a goddamn funeral.”
Luca nodded. “Understood. I’ll put the word out. Everyone loyal’s getting pulled in. If Jorge surfaces, we’ll know.”
I didn’t answer. Just walked to the bar corner, poured two fingers of whiskey, and threw it back. “Someone killed Geneva’s son to fuck with my head. They want a war? Then I’ll give them a body count they can’t bury.”
GENEVA’S POV
This is it. New life.
The plane landed quietly in Spain. Elle was asleep in my arms, her little fists curled against my coat, and my eyes were fixed on the rolling vineyards below as we descended. My heart wasn’t ready, but I had already come too far to turn back.
Don Domino Montenegro. That was his name. My biological father. The man my mother never told me much about. Only that he was powerful, dangerous, and once loved her deeply.
The car that picked us up was sleek and black. The driver spoke nothing the whole ride. And when the gates opened to a massive estate surrounded by hills, I felt Elle flinch a little. I held her tighter.
At the grand steps of the estate, he stood. My father. Silver hair slicked back, sharp jaw, and a posture that didn’t bend for anyone. He looked like a man carved from control and discipline.
I stepped out of the car, one foot still inside as I stared at him. He stared back, unreadable at first. Then, he stepped forward and opened his arms.
“Geneva,” he said, his voice rough but warm, “my daughter.”
I hesitated. Then walked to him. Elle stayed in my arms, her face buried in my neck.
He hugged me. Not hard. Not rushed. Just firm enough. And I didn’t realize I was crying until my cheeks hit his coat.
We didn’t say much then. He escorted us inside, his staff already prepared. Elle was given a room beside mine, full of toys and gentle lighting. I tucked her in and kissed her forehead.
Chapter 12
2/3 36.5%
12:52 pm Pppp.
Later that night, I sat on the terrace with him. Just the two of us. The wind was soft, and I had a blanket around my shoulders.
He poured me a glass of wine and didn’t speak until I was ready.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when your mother died,” he finally said. “I didn’t know she passed. I didn’t even know I had a child.”
I looked at him. My voice shook a bit. “Then where were you?”
12:52 pm P p pp.
