Claimed By The Ruthless Dark Mafia Don

Giada POV

The line of new servants stood before me in obedient stillness, but the Rat hiding among them had already been marked. I turned away, my attention shifting to the next phase of the operation.

To survive this estate, I had to expose the snake before it could bite.

I retreated to the plush velvet sofas in the center of the room, pulling my most trusted Associates, Rosa and Siena, close. "We feed them ambition," I murmured, outlining a psychological trap.

Within the hour, the seeds were planted. Out on the secluded, sun-drenched balcony, Siena cornered Leo, a lowly Soldier assigned to the outer perimeter. "Matteo is too rigid as head of security," she purred, tracing the rim of a crystal glass. "The Don rewards men who know how to adapt. Protect the Signorina well, and you could easily take Matteo's place."

Inside the walk-in closet, Rosa worked a similar poison on Lucia, one of the new maids. "Carmela is too slow," Rosa whispered, handing Lucia a stack of silk chemises. "Be sharp, and you'll be the one catching the Don's eye for a reward."

By nightfall, the Sapphire Suite had transformed into a ruthless battleground of overachievers. Leo paced the corridors like a starved hound, aggressively turning away two maids sent by other Collaterals with bribes for information. Inside, Lucia polished the silver tea sets until her knuckles turned white, desperate to prove her worth.

Standing in the shadows of the hallway, I watched the frantic display with cold satisfaction.

"They are working hard, Signorina," Rosa whispered beside me. "Are they the spies?"

"No," I replied softly, my eyes drifting to the corner where Carmela stood perfectly still, quietly folding towels with chilling indifference. "In our world, a true Rat is already well-fed with blood money. They don't scramble for crumbs, and they don't risk drawing attention by overperforming. Watch the one who isn't trying."

The trap was set. Now, I just had to wait for Carmela to make a fatal mistake.

The next morning, the estate buzzed with the suffocating tension of the Matriarch's morning assembly. Every female resident was required to attend the gathering in the Solarium, hosted by Geraldine Blackwell, the former Mafia Queen. Rumor had it that Dante would pass by the glass corridors after his meeting with the Consigliere.

Sitting at my vanity, I dismissed the makeup artist. I left the faint, purplish shadows under my eyes untouched and kept my skin bare. I cultivated the fragile, hollowed-out exhaustion of a woman who had been ruthlessly consumed by the Dark Don all night. In a house full of predators, flaunting strength was foolish; weaponizing vulnerability was an art.

The moment I stepped outside the heavy glass doors of the Solarium, Kelsey blocked my path.

She wore a scandalous, crimson slip dress that clung to her curves—a desperate, pathetic attempt to catch Dante's eye. Her face twisted into an ugly sneer as she took in my bare face.

"Look at you," Kelsey mocked, her manicured fingers suddenly darting out to roughly pinch my chin. "You look like a washed-out corpse. Do you honestly think a diamond collar makes up for that pathetic face? You'll never be Ellen."

I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. I simply stared at her with the dead, chilling calm of a true Queen watching a jester dig her own grave.

Before I could speak, the sharp, authoritative thud of a silver-tipped cane struck the marble floor.

The temperature in the corridor plummeted. Geraldine Blackwell emerged from the shadows, flanked by four heavily armed Soldati. She wore a deep burgundy velvet gown draped in snow fox fur, her sharp eyes radiating the absolute, crushing weight of the Blackwell hierarchy.

"Take your hands off her," Geraldine commanded, her voice a lethal whip crack.

Kelsey gasped, snatching her hand back as if she had been burned.

Geraldine stepped closer, her cold gaze raking over Kelsey’s inappropriate dress with profound disgust. "A woman graced with my son's Claiming Gift is not subject to the petty judgments of a lowly Collateral," the Matriarch hissed, enforcing the Don's absolute authority. "Know your place, girl, before I have you reminded of it."

Trembling violently, Kelsey dropped to her knees, her face draining of all color. The surrounding women immediately followed suit, bowing their heads in terrified submission.

I offered Geraldine a slow, perfectly measured bow of respect. She gave me a curt nod of approval before sweeping into the room.

Stepping into the lush, humid air of the Solarium, I kept my gaze lowered, playing the part of the exhausted favorite. But as I moved toward my seat, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

I looked up. Sasha, the Bratva Collateral, was marching directly toward me. A vicious, triumphant smirk played on her lips, her eyes gleaming with the anticipation of tearing me down, completely unaware that the ugly security photo she had bribed to see was nothing but a lie.