Fabio strode toward his office. His heavy footsteps thudded against the corridor floor, reflecting the mounting impatience to dissect the information he had just received.
"Everything you requested regarding Miss Leah Etmand is right here, Boss," his subordinate said, placing a thick brown folder onto Fabio's oak desk.
Fabio sat down, his sharp gaze fixed on the man in front of him. "What did you mean by what you said earlier? That Leah is not Jackson's biological daughter?" Fabio asked, his brow furrowing deeply as if the information were too difficult to believe.
"Please, see for yourself, sir," the subordinate replied politely.
Fabio yanked the folder's string and began flipping through the documents inside. The sound of rustling paper was the only noise in the room as his subordinate began to explain.
"Miss Leah was adopted when she was five years old. At that time, Jackson was stationed in Colorado on a mission to dismantle the Renver Mafia Group. After the mission was completed, he took Leah to Montana. The name 'Etmand' itself was taken from the undercover identity Jackson used while living there, which was Sean Etmand."
Fabio's hand stopped on a small photo of Leah as a child attached to the file. He studied his lover's history carefully.
"So. He was not her biological father," Fabio whispered softly.
A sliver of relief crept into his chest. Although he knew Leah would still be deeply hurt, the reality that none of Jackson's blood flowed through her veins seemed to lighten the burden of guilt that had been crushing him.
Crash!
The door to Fabio's office slammed against the wall. A young woman stood in the doorway, her breath coming in short gasps and her eyes flashing with uncontrollable rage.
"I heard you brought a girl here?" the woman asked without preamble.
Fabio closed the document in his hand calmly, far too calmly. He looked up, casting a cold and piercing glare toward her.
"You have no right to manage me, Sophia," Fabio answered flatly.
Sophia Callsbar, the daughter of a Casso family consigliere, did not flinch. She stepped forward, closing the distance until their faces were only inches apart. The scent of her strong perfume mingled with the tension in the air.
"Have you forgotten the rules of the Casso family?" Sophia whispered in a threatening tone.
"I have not forgotten!" Fabio stood up abruptly, slamming his hand onto the desk and making the objects on top of it rattle.
"Then why do you still dare to bring a woman to headquarters?" Sophia challenged, her voice rising an octave. "Have you forgotten our agreement? I do not care which women you play with out there! But never bring them to the base, especially when our wedding is only months away!"
Fabio closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to stifle the anger beginning to boil within him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and leaned forward. His sharp gaze locked onto Sophia's, creating a palpable sense of intimidation between them.
"I am marrying you only for the position of Big Boss. You know that, don't you?" Fabio hissed, emphasizing every word.
Sophia did not budge. She returned his gaze with equal courage. "You also know the other requirement, Fabio. You must have an heir."
A mocking smirk appeared at the corner of Fabio's lips. He let out a dry laugh, as if he had just heard a foolish joke.
"I thought you understood all the rules of the Casso family," Fabio said coldly. "The heir you mentioned does not have to be born from the womb of a legal wife!"
Bang! Fabio slammed the desk with full force, the sound thundering through the room.
"Get her out!" Fabio ordered without breaking eye contact, his voice thick with restrained fury.
"Fabio, you—!" Sophia raised her index finger, about to curse the man in front of her.
However, before she could finish her sentence, two of Fabio's men moved quickly to grab her arms. Sophia flinched, trying to struggle against their firm grip.
"Let go of me! I can walk out myself!" Sophia snapped.
Sophia jerked her arms free and turned to leave with heavy, angry strides. The sound of her heels hitting the floor rang out loudly, mirroring her wounded pride and burning rage.
***
The following day. FBI Headquarters, New York.
The micro SD card found in Jackson's throat had finally been recovered. An operator inserted it into a laptop connected directly to a large screen in the control room. One by one, the files appeared, but the contents were unexpected: there were only photos of Leah and her college friends. Everything centered on Leah's private life.
"It seems this belongs to his daughter," the operator muttered, sounding slightly disappointed.
Mark stood silently, observing the screen closely. One hand held his chin while the other arm was folded across his chest, his signature pose when analyzing a complex puzzle.
"Do you not find it strange? Why are their photos always set in the same restaurant?" Mark asked searchingly.
"Maybe it is their regular spot. It is normal for young people to have a favorite place if the food is good," replied Eric, a senior colleague from Mark's graduating class.
"If this card truly contained no crucial information, Jackson would not have been desperate enough to swallow it and die," Mark countered sharply. He stood his ground. "Is this restaurant near Leah's campus?"
Eric checked the location data for a moment. "No. It is very far. That is why I assumed they must really like the place."
"You are right. It must be a very big 'favorite' if they are willing to travel that far to get there," Mark said, this time with a wide, meaningful smile.
"Why are you suddenly smiling like that?" Eric asked, puzzled.
"We are going there now. I want to see just how 'special' that restaurant really is," Mark said. Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed his jacket and hurried out.
"Mark, wait!" Eric called out, rushing to follow him.