Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 40

Chapter 40: "A Statement To Make"

For the first time in years, Isidore Accardi found himself confronted with a reality that refused to fit neatly into logic.

He sat motionless behind his desk, green eyes fixed on Aren with absolute stillness, searching relentlessly for even the smallest fracture in her honesty.

He had built a reputation on detecting lies. Politicians sweated under his gaze. Executives broke apart after three questions. Men twice Aren’s age had collapsed trying to deceive him.

Unfortunately, she was telling the truth.

Completely.

’Micaela Accardi.’

The name echoed through his mind like a file reopening after decades in cold storage.

Memories surfaced one after another.

Isaac bringing the woman home for the first time.

Isidore at eight years old, sitting silently beside the staircase railing while his older brother — already thirty then, already untouchable — introduced the beautiful young woman who would become the Donna of House Accardi.

Even at eight years old, Isidore had disliked her immediately.

Not because of instinct.

Because of logic.

’Incompetent,’ he had concluded after less than ten minutes in her presence.

She was too expressive. Too eager for approval. Too concerned with appearances.

For twenty years, Isidore had largely ignored her existence, and she had remained little more than background noise within House Accardi.

Still, he had never once predicted this outcome. Never imagined she would someday sell the House itself.

Yet outwardly, his face revealed none of that.

No anger surfaced. No disbelief.

Calmly, he opened one of the desk drawers and retrieved a prepared stack of contracts. Without ceremony, he slid them across the desk toward Aren.

"The contract."

Aren accepted the documents carefully.

She skimmed over the pages, but only briefly before her attention lifted back toward Isidore.

Concern sat openly in her expression.

Very softly, she asked,

"Master Accardi... what would you like to do next?"

Isidore had already returned his attention to the paperwork spread across his desk.

"Not your concern."

The scratching of his pen resumed.

"The mission has concluded. Just sign."

Aren lowered her gaze.

"...Understood."

She accepted the answer without pressing further. Quietly, she reviewed the contract in full.

The her obligations were stated clearly: weekly meetings. mandatory availability upon request, attendance at specified social functions, business meetings and designated locations under Isidore Accardi’s authority.

Once she finished reading, she signed neatly at the bottom, then retrieved the communication device from the desk and lowered herself into a respectful bow.

"Thank you for this opportunity, Master Accardi," she said formally. "If there is nothing else, I would not wish to waste your time further."

She had barely straightened when his voice stopped her.

"Wait."

Aren looked up immediately.

Isidore met her gaze fully again, expression as cold and serious as before.

"The candies."

Aren blinked once.

"...Candies?"

Isidore extended one hand across the desk, palm open.

"What flavors?"

For a single instant, the suffocating atmosphere inside the office vanished completely. Aren brightened so suddenly it looked like sunlight breaking through clouds.

"Oh."

She immediately shoved both hands into the pockets of her dress, digging around enthusiastically before pulling everything out at once.

Not two candies.

Not even several.

An entire mountain.

Bright wrappers spilled across both her palms in a chaotic pile of artificial sugar and guaranteed tooth decay.

"Lemon. Strawberries. Blueberries. Chocolate and I think..." She squinted thoughtfully at one wrapper. "Mint."

Then she lifted them eagerly toward him.

"Which one do you like?"

She smiled at him expectantly.

Across the desk, Isidore stared at the pile in complete silence.

Bright yellow.

Pink.

Blue.

Brown.

Green.

All violently colorful against the sterile perfection of his desk.

Five full seconds passed in grave consideration. At last, Isidore lifted one finger and pointed toward a bright yellow wrapper.

"Lemon."

Without hesitation, Aren let the entire pile tumble onto his desk before meticulously sorting through them one by one. Every lemon candy was carefully separated from the rest and pushed toward Isidore in a neat little cluster.

"All the lemon candies," she announced brightly, her smile unwavering. "For you."

Isidore gathered the yellow candies silently with one hand, his face unreadable.

Without eating a single one, he opened the top drawer of his desk and placed them carefully inside before closing it again.

Slowly, he rose from his chair.

"...Master Accardi?" Aren whispered.

"Trust me," he said simply, only low enough for her to hear.

Meanwhile, Caio had gone frighteningly still.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, veins bulging sharply beneath taut skin. His jaw locked hard enough to shatter teeth.

Isidore finally looked back toward Caio.

Every word emerged slow, measured, and perfectly audible throughout the entire lobby.

"I’ll make this clear once and for all."

His fingers tightened against Aren’s waist.

"This young woman is not only contracted to you and House Sartori."

His gaze never wavered from Caio’s face.

"She is now officially contracted to House Accardi. And specifically..."

His voice cooled further.

"She is now my property, and I am her master."

Silence crashed down over the lobby.

Someone nearby dropped a folder.

Several employees froze outright.

Others immediately pulled out phones beneath desks and behind pillars, ready to broadcast the scandal unfolding inside Accardi Tower in real time.

The receptionist looked seconds away from fainting where she stood.

And Caio...

Caio stalled for exactly two seconds.

Then, he exploded forward.

Fast.

Violent.

Crossing the lobby in several brutal strides.

One hand seized Isidore by the collar of his suit and yanked him forward, hard enough that Aren was instantly torn free from his grip.

The other hand was already swinging in the air.

A tight fist—

Full force—

Launched directly into Isidore’s face.

THWACK.

The impact cracked through the lobby like a gunshot.

Gasps erupted everywhere.

Blood splattered in sharp crimson droplets beneath the lobby lights.

Isidore’s head snapped sideways, his glasses flying across the marble floor before shattering into pieces.