Daniel’s POV
My father sat rigidly in the visitor’s chair outside my office, his tailored Italian suit and gold cufflinks marking him as the don he was, even in this sterile precinct environment. His weathered face held that familiar expression of cold calculation, the same look that had intimidated rival families for decades. If there was one thing I knew about Antonio Martinez, it was that he never abandoned a territorial claim.
"Dad! Have you been waiting long? You should have called me," I said, maintaining a respectful tone despite knowing exactly why the head of the Martinez crime family had ventured into enemy territory.
"I arrived less than five minutes ago, Daniel," he replied with his characteristic directness. "I want to talk to you, and I’m certain you already know what this concerns." Despite being in his mid-sixties, my father carried himself with the imposing presence of a man who controlled half the city’s underground operations. His sharp eyes and commanding demeanor had made politicians tremble and judges reconsider their verdicts.
"Let’s go to my office," I suggested, fighting the urge to tense up as I led the way into what he probably considered hostile territory.
Once inside, my father scanned my workspace with barely concealed contempt, his critical gaze evaluating every object as if conducting reconnaissance on enemy turf.
"How are things in Greenleaf?" I attempted conversation, though I recognized the signs that my father had abandoned diplomatic courtesy in favor of his intimidation tactics.
"I’m not here for pleasantries about the neighborhood," he stated coldly. "I came to end this rebellious phase of yours and bring you back to take your rightful place in the family organization."
I sighed. "You realize I’m thirty-five, right? This approach stopped working years ago. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave the police force, I won’t return to Greenleaf, and I certainly won’t get involved in your operations. My obligations don’t include your empire."
"I’ll cut you out completely, Daniel," he threatened with unsettling calm. "It’s very simple. Either you come back and help run our territories, or you inherit nothing from this family."
"Are you seriously making that threat again? How many times have we been through this dance?" I maintained my composure, knowing from experience that showing anger would only escalate his intimidation tactics. Our conversations had always resembled territorial negotiations more than father-son discussions. "Dad, I live comfortably on my inspector’s salary and legitimate investments. Your money and operations mean nothing to me, and I stopped being impressed by the family influence long ago. I haven’t depended on Martinez family resources since I left the organization and moved out."
"Daniel, be reasonable," he pressed. "It’s the family business! Our entire network of operations, legitimate fronts, and territorial control. Do you want me to leave it all to outsiders?"
"The operations are managed perfectly well by Gregory," I countered. "And you’d be better off grooming Sybilla for the position you’re trying to force on me. She’s sharp and actually wants to be part of the organization."
My father scoffed. "Your sister is a spoiled princess! This is just another of her rebellious impulses. Everything she claims to want is a whim. She’s twenty-eight and still doesn’t understand the importance of strategic alliances. Now she’s creating problems by refusing to accept the arrangement with Grant, which would strengthen our partnership with the Marchetti operations. You must know about this situation."
"That entitled fool? Yes, I know all about it," I said, not caring how he’d react. "What I don’t understand is why you and Mom are trying to force Sybilla into a strategic marriage with someone who spends his time at high-stakes poker games, exclusive clubs, and chasing socialites. You’re condemning her to a miserable existence for territorial gain."


VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask (by Silver Spoon)