My Three-Year-Old Daughter Mocked the Mafia Boss to His Face—Then the Mafia Boss Made One Unexpected Request.

Vincent did not hesitate. He devised a lethal, calculated trap to force the traitor to expose themselves once and for all.

The following evening, news was deliberately leaked through encrypted syndicate channels that Claire and Mia were being moved from the forest lodge to a private airfield on the coast, where a jet was waiting to fly them to a safehouse in Switzerland.

In reality, Claire and Mia remained safely hidden deep within the subterranean bunker beneath the forest lodge, guarded by Renzo and a dozen elite enforcers.

At eleven o'clock at night, a convoy of three heavily armored black SUVs drove down the winding coastal highway toward the private airfield. Rain lashed against the windshields as the vehicles navigated the sharp turns along the cliffside road overlooking the roaring ocean below.

Inside the lead vehicle, two bodyguards sat in the front, while a decoy figure wearing Claire’s coat sat in the rear seat.

Suddenly, a heavy semi-truck pulled out from a side road, completely blocking both lanes of the highway. The convoy slammed on its brakes, tires screeching against the wet asphalt.

From the dark tree line along the cliff, six armed men stepped out into the rain, surrounding the stopped vehicles.

Walking slowly down the center of the road, holding a suppressed pistol, was Dominic Vance—Vincent’s oldest and most trusted senior lieutenant, a man who had managed the syndicate's financial operations for over twenty years.

Dominic walked up to the rear door of the lead SUV, a cold, greedy smile on his face. He pulled the door open, aiming his gun inside.

"It's over, little girl," Dominic sneered. "With you and the child gone, the Castalano bloodline ends, and the board turns the empire over to—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Sitting in the rear seat was not Claire Bennett.

Sitting in the dark interior was Vincent Castalano.

Dominic’s face drained of all color, his blood turning to liquid ice as he stared into the dark, terrifying eyes of his boss.

"Hello, Dominic," Vincent whispered.

Before Dominic could pull the trigger, Vincent reached out, grabbed Dominic’s wrist, and crushed it with unbelievable force. Dominic screamed in agony, dropping the weapon as Vincent stepped out of the vehicle like an unstoppable force of nature.

The surrounding Castalano bodyguards moved instantly, disarming the remaining mercenaries in seconds.

Vincent stood over Dominic, who lay on the wet asphalt, clutching his broken wrist, panting in terror.

"Twenty years, Dominic," Vincent said, his voice echoing over the roar of the ocean waves. "I trusted you with my finances. I trusted you with my life."

"Vincent... please!" Dominic begged, crawling backward toward the edge of the cliff. "They offered me fifty percent of the shipping routes! They said the girl would inherit everything when you died! I couldn't let a maid's child take what we built!"

"She isn't a maid's child," Vincent stated coldly, drawing his sidearm and aiming it directly between Dominic's eyes. "She is a Castalano. And you are a memory."

A single shot echoed across the storm-swept coastal highway.

An hour later, Vincent returned to the master study at the estate. The rain outside had begun to clear, leaving behind a quiet, starlit night.

Renzo walked into the room, holding a heavy iron key retrieved from Dominic’s private safe.

Vincent took the key, walked over to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf behind his desk, and unlocked a hidden steel vault embedded deep within the stone wall.

Inside lay a heavy, ribbon-bound parchment document bearing the official wax seal of the founding Castalano dynasty dated twenty-six years ago.