Falling for My Ex’s Mafia Dad — Episode 24
Fay met Lorenzo’s expectant gaze and allowed the silence to stretch. He had asked for Kent’s first secret as casually as another father might ask what his daughter wanted for dinner. Behind his warmth, she could feel the machinery of calculation turning, testing whether affection, obligation, or fear would move her fastest.
“Kent makes excellent cappuccino,” she said at last. Lorenzo’s smile thinned. Fay kept her expression innocent and added that he woke early, controlled his own kitchen, and disliked anyone interfering with the coffee machine. Every statement was true, and none could put a bullet in anyone’s chest.
Her father leaned back. “You know what I mean.” Fay told him she did, which was precisely why she would not improvise accusations about a family whose protection currently kept David and Janeen alive. Trust could not be demanded from a daughter he had known for less than an hour, especially while bargaining with her parents’ safety.
For the first time, irritation cracked Lorenzo’s tenderness. He reminded her that David and Janeen were not her parents by blood. Fay answered that love was not made counterfeit by DNA. The people who sat beside nightmares, paid school fees, and stayed through ordinary years had earned a title no laboratory could cancel.
Lorenzo studied her with a mixture of pride and displeasure. Victoria had spoken like that, he said—always elevating private loyalties over the family’s survival. Fay seized the opening and asked whether that was why her mother fled. His expression closed so swiftly it became an answer without details.
He rose and walked to the library window. Outside, Alden guards occupied the grounds while Lippert men watched them from carefully chosen positions. Lorenzo said Victoria had misunderstood the cost of independence. In their world, one person’s freedom could expose an entire bloodline, and innocence did not prevent consequences.
Fay heard the warning beneath the philosophy. She asked whether he wanted a daughter or an asset. Lorenzo turned, genuinely wounded—or skilled enough to imitate it. He insisted she was both, because every Alden carried duty with the name, and he had spent too many years searching to lose her through sentimentality now.
“Then start by telling me the truth,” Fay said. “All of it.” Lorenzo promised answers after the wedding contract was signed and the alliance publicly announced. Again, truth was placed behind obedience, close enough to tempt her and always one surrender away.
He changed tactics and asked about Daniel. Were they intimate? Did the young man desire her? Fay’s clinical composure nearly broke beneath the obscenity of discussing Daniel’s private life with the father who treated his marriage as political architecture.
She replied that the nature of their relationship belonged to them. Lorenzo warned that an unconsummated marriage could be challenged and that heirs mattered. Fay’s stomach tightened. The consent clause she had demanded was no longer theoretical; it was the only barrier between her body and two dynasties planning their future.
“Daniel treats me with respect,” she said. “That is all you’re entitled to know.” Lorenzo’s eyes sharpened at the boundary. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. He said Kent had finally found someone in his house who did not tremble when powerful men lowered their voices.
The comment stirred an image Fay did not want: Kent leaning close in the kitchen, his attention fixed on her mouth. She forced it away. Lorenzo noticed the pause and asked whether Kent frightened her. Fay answered honestly that he did, though not always for the reasons he intended.
Before Lorenzo could pursue the admission, Fay opened the library door. Daniel waited exactly where she had requested, while Kent stood farther down the corridor speaking quietly into a phone. Both men looked toward her at once, one with concern and the other with an unreadable stillness that made her wonder how private the library truly was.
Lorenzo emerged behind her and announced that his daughter possessed the Alden spine. He agreed to have his attorneys review her amendments, but the engagement would be announced immediately. Kent accepted with a nod. Daniel smiled for the assembled witnesses, though the color had drained from his face.
Fay crossed to him and slipped her hand into his. “We need to talk,” she whispered. Daniel guided her toward the drawing room, but Kent’s voice stopped them. The household would gather for dinner in an hour, he said, and no one was to leave the protected wing beforehand.
The order sounded routine. Fay nevertheless caught Kent’s gaze flicking toward Lorenzo, then toward a nearly invisible camera above the library door. A cold realization moved through her: even if no microphone had been hidden inside, Kent recorded movement, alliances, and opportunities. She was living between men who considered privacy an operational error.
Lorenzo kissed her forehead before departing to confer with his attorneys. To the room, the gesture was paternal affection. Against Fay’s ear, he murmured, “Think carefully about which family can truly protect the people you love.” Then he walked away surrounded by armed men.
Daniel waited until they were alone to ask what his future father-in-law wanted. Fay looked at the camera in the corner and said only that Lorenzo wanted loyalty. Daniel understood the omission. He led her into the conservatory, where rain against the glass offered enough noise for her to reveal the request for secrets.
Daniel swore softly. He warned that refusing Lorenzo could make her a target, while cooperating would make Kent’s retaliation inevitable. Fay said she would not become either man’s weapon. Yet the conviction rang hollow when both families held something she loved and could tighten their grip whenever she resisted.
Hours later, unable to sleep, Fay heard a violent crash from the corridor beyond Kent’s office. She followed it past two absent guards and found his door ajar. Inside, shattered glass covered the floor, blood ran from Kent’s clenched hand, and the untouchable Mafia King was fighting for breath as though an invisible enemy had finally gotten its hands around his throat.
