read lots story at patreon
always update and finish
belamy20 >> 5$
The recording was a complete fake.
Francis had planned Little Martin's murder all by himself. Antonio had known nothing about it. Back when Old Martin was still lucid, neither Felice nor Antonio had any real hunger for the throne.
Antonio had only joined Francis later—blackmailed after Francis uncovered his secret dealings with the Irish Mob.
Lawson had cooked the entire tape himself, using the Mockingbird Trump Card to clone their voices perfectly and weaving in every detail he'd beaten out of Alberto Bruno.
It was the year 2000. Voice-cloning tech like this didn't exist yet. So even though Antonio screamed himself hoarse that the tape was forged, the eyes of every man in the pews were already shifting.
Even his own enforcers looked uneasy.
The content was simply too explosive. Lawson had deliberately layered in disgusting, predatory comments about Sofia. Sex and betrayal scandals spread like wildfire; people wanted to believe the juiciest version.
By the time the recording ended, Antonio stood completely alone. Every face in the church stared at him with open hostility.
"It's a fake!" he shrieked. "I never said any of that! It's bullshit!"
But the furious Bonanno soldiers weren't listening. They had just heard proof that Antonio had been working with Francis Ricci—the man who had robbed them blind and left them all paranoid.
Right now, Francis was the most hated name in the family. Anyone tied to him was already dead meat.
Luca looked at Antonio with profound, exhausted disappointment. He didn't even want to hear the excuses.
"Take Antonio Costa into custody," he ordered. "Traitors to this family will be punished."
Seeing the ship sinking, Felice tried to shrink into the crowd and disappear.
But Lawson hadn't forgotten the old bastard. Felice was the one who had spent the last hour tormenting Sofia.
Lawson knew every word that had been said inside the church—Eva had kept her phone line open the entire time. The deepfake had been thrown together on the spot as a direct counter to Felice's ambush.
Sure, the recording had minor technical flaws. The LAPD or FBI forensics lab would spot the splices in a heartbeat. But for a mob trial? It was more than enough to serve as a smoking gun.
"Hey, don't forget about Mr. Marino over there!" Lawson called out.
The crowd turned. Felice had almost backed himself all the way to the church doors.
He froze, flashing a panicked, awkward smile.
"I didn't know anything about this! I was manipulated too!"
Classic rat move—every man for himself. He was desperately trying to cut all ties with Antonio.
For a second, his decades of street cred bought him a pause. The crowd hesitated. Technically the tape hadn't named Felice directly.
Even if he survived tonight, his reputation was finished. He would never sit in the Boss's chair. At best, he'd be allowed to retire quietly.
But Lawson had zero intention of letting him walk away.
"Are you kidding me?" Lawson laughed mockingly. "Ten minutes ago you claimed Black Sonny manipulated you. Now you're saying Antonio manipulated you. What are you, the patron saint of gullible idiots? How does a capo get played twice in one night?"
The crowd's eyes darkened.
Lawson had nailed it. Fooled once was an excuse. Fooled twice meant you were either an idiot or a liar. Nobody wanted to find out what would happen the third time.
Even Luca had lost every last scrap of faith in his old friend.
"Take Felice Marino into custody as well!"
"Wait! Luca, I swear to God I was set up!"
"I'll investigate whether you were set up or not. Until then, you sit in a cell."
Luca had been willing to sacrifice Sofia for the good of the family earlier—he had zero problem doing the same to Felice. This wasn't about right or wrong anymore. It was about stopping the bleeding and stabilizing the syndicate.
Felice had started a riot. Locking him up was the only way to calm the room.
In the end, both capos were stripped of their weapons and bound.
As they were dragged down the aisle, the two men wouldn't stop screaming and cursing. The soldiers, thoroughly sick of their voices, ripped off their own sweaty socks and shoved them violently into the capos' mouths.
A filthy, perfect end for two men who thought they were the kings of the world. They had tried to rule Gotham and ended up looking like clowns.
With the traitors removed, Luca just wanted the nightmare to end. He stepped up to the altar.
"Brothers, let's conclude tonight's sit-down here. We'll put this ugliness behind us and get back to business tomorrow."
But Lawson stepped forward, his voice cutting cleanly through the church.
"Mr. Pastore, since the entire family is already gathered… why don't we officially confirm the new Head of the Family?"
Luca froze, glaring at Lawson, brow furrowed deep.
"Excuse me? Since when does an associate get to dictate family politics?!"
Lawson's play was obvious.
With Felice and Antonio in chains, the only real contenders for the throne were gone. Unless Luca himself stepped up to challenge Sofia, the seat was hers by default.
But if Luca had actually wanted the chair, he would have taken it long before tonight.
The real reason he was snapping at Lawson was pure desperation—he had lost control. He had wanted Sofia to rule as his puppet so he could steer the family into a new era.
Unfortunately for him, Sofia trusted Lawson completely. She didn't miss a beat.
"Mr. Lawson speaks for me," she announced, her voice ringing with absolute authority.
Lawson clapped his hands loudly, pulling every eye in the room.
"Gentlemen! Madam Sofia is the wife of Martin Bonanno. While the Boss has been fighting for his life in the hospital, she has exhausted herself holding this syndicate together. Is there anyone here more qualified to take the chair?"
A low murmur rippled through the pews. Old-school Italian machismo still lingered. The idea of taking orders from a woman—especially one this young and beautiful—sat heavy with the older made men. It was exactly why Felice had teamed up with Antonio in the first place.
Lawson knew he needed a killing blow. He played his trump card.
"As of this afternoon, Madam Sofia has successfully recovered every single dollar Francis Ricci stole from this family."
Luca physically recoiled, staring at Sofia in shock.
"Madam… is this true?"
Sofia had no idea if it was true, but if Lawson said it, it was gospel.
"It is true."
Luca still looked suspicious—he had been lied to and manipulated so many times tonight that paranoia clouded his judgment.
Instead of arguing, Lawson pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Donnie. You there?"
"Yeah, but the perimeter guards won't let me through the gate."
"Hand the phone to the guard." Lawson waited a beat, then held the phone out. "Mr. Pastore, my associate just arrived with the assets. Why don't you authorize him through the gate?"
Luca hesitated, then barked the order. "Let the truck through."
A massive, heavy-duty garbage truck rumbled slowly into the small plaza in front of St. Lucy's Church.
"Gentlemen," Lawson smiled, gesturing toward the open double doors, "if you don't believe me, step outside and see for yourselves."
Sofia led by example, walking gracefully down the aisle and out the front doors. The entire congregation poured out behind her.
Lawson shouted up at the cab. "Donnie! Dump it!"
"Copy that!"
Donnie hit the hydraulics. The massive steel bed tilted back with a groan.
With a deafening crash, tons of solid, glittering gold bricks spilled across the pavement.
The sheer visual impact of that much raw wealth hit the soldiers like a physical blow. The plaza went dead silent except for the collective sharp intake of a hundred breaths.
Every mobster was mesmerized.
"Well?" Lawson asked, snapping them out of their trance. "Do you believe her now?"
No further arguments were needed. Cash was king, and gold was god.
As one, the made men of the Bonanno family stepped to the bottom of the church stairs and bowed deeply to Sofia.
The message was absolute. Sofia had their total, unwavering loyalty.
Looking out over the sea of bowed heads, Sofia's heart hammered in her chest. The rush of power was intoxicating.
She glanced instinctively at Lawson, silently asking what to do next.
He gave her the subtlest nod. This was her moment. He couldn't speak for her now without undermining her authority.
Taking a deep breath, Sofia found her voice.
"Brothers. The last two months have tested this family to its absolute limit. I know some of you doubted my ability to lead. But I swear to you—I will do everything in my power to put this family back on top!"
Her voice started a little shaky, but by the end it rang with the iron confidence of a true Mafia Queen.
When she finished, the soldiers erupted into thunderous, genuine applause.
Even Luca, his face a complex mask of defeat and relief, stepped forward and bowed his head.
"Madam. The Bonanno family is yours."
Sofia offered him a cold, polite smile. She had zero affection left for the old man.
"I won't let you down, Mr. Pastore."
Her eyes drifted back to Lawson, burning with an intense, barely suppressed emotion.
The coup was over. The woman they had dragged here to be destroyed had walked out as the undisputed Boss of Los Angeles.
But could the Bonanno family truly return to its former glory under her rule?
Lawson already knew the answer.
Absolutely not.
---
[St. Martin's Bank Heist Complete. Calculating Rewards…]
[Bonus Objective 1: Recover at least 80% of Francis Ricci's stolen assets (Currently 91%) — ACHIEVED]
[Bonus Objective 2: Complete the operation with zero casualties and zero arrests — ACHIEVED]
[Bonus Objective 3: Retrieve the ledger hidden in St. Martin's Bank — ACHIEVED]
[Final Heist Rating: S. Gained 11 Underworld Reputation. Earned 5 Card Draws.]
---
Three days had passed since the bloodless coup at St. Lucy's Church.
Sofia's grip on power had solidified fast. Several street-level crew bosses had already come to the estate to kiss her ring and swear absolute loyalty.
But even with ultimate authority, certain appearances still had to be kept.
Today was her scheduled visit to see Old Martin at Mercy Hospital. With nothing urgent on his plate, Lawson tagged along as her escort.
Sofia was inside the sterile ICU room now, probably saying everything she had bottled up to her comatose husband.
Bored, Lawson sat in the plastic hallway chairs and realized he had been so busy managing the fallout that he hadn't checked his loot yet.
He opened the Payday App.
[Acquired: Folding Cane!]
[Acquired: $90,000 Cash!]
[Acquired: $70,000 Cash!]
[Acquired: Tactical Smoke Grenades!]
[Acquired: Deck of Playing Cards!]
Lawson frowned. No Trump Card this time. Still, he read the descriptions.
[Folding Cane: A collapsible gentleman's walking stick. Virtually indestructible. Features ample internal space for extreme modifications. Who knows what kind of hidden blade or barrel you could fit inside?]
Kingsman vibes. And the system never lied about "virtually indestructible." This thing was going to be a lethal blunt instrument.
[Tactical Smoke Grenades: Deploys a dense smoke screen that lasts exactly 10 seconds. Blocks thermal imaging and all standard visual optics. Maximum inventory of 3. Replenishes daily at midnight. "Helmet, armor, gun, chest rig, backpack… let's roll!"]
Standard but extremely useful for breaking line-of-sight during a hot exfil.
[Deck of Playing Cards: A deck of cards forged from an unknown, hyper-dense metal. They weigh the same as standard paper cards but feature razor-sharp edges. Automatically returns to the deck daily at midnight. Wait… are you seriously going to use playing cards as a weapon?]
Lawson smirked at the system's sarcasm. Anyone who grew up watching 90s action movies or X-Men knew exactly how cool throwing cards could be. He decided these would become the signature weapon for his "Jack Cole" persona.
With the bank heist cleared, he checked the rewards for the larger Godmother Protocol.
[Godmother Protocol Complete. Calculating Rewards…]
[Bonus Objective 1: Complete the operation before Old Martin Bonanno dies — ACHIEVED]
[Bonus Objective 2: Family Cohesion remains above 80% upon completion (Currently 81%) — ACHIEVED]
[Bonus Objective 3: Family financial losses do not exceed 50% upon completion (Currently 31%) — ACHIEVED]
[Final Heist Rating: S. Gained 15 Underworld Reputation. Earned 5 Card Draws.]
The combined reputation pushed him over 100, landing exactly at 109.
His Underworld Title upgraded from Up-and-Comer to Rising Star, unlocking 4-Star difficulty jobs.
He started the final five draws.
[Acquired: $50,000 Cash!]
[Acquired: Trump Card — "Spider"!]
[Acquired: $90,000 Cash!]
[Acquired: Magician's Top Hat!]
[Acquired: $40,000 Cash!]
Jackpot. His seventh Trump Card.
Between the draws and his cut of the heist, Lawson's liquid cash had smashed the $400,000 mark. Pocket change compared to the seventy-plus million in gold and bearer bonds he was sitting on.
Did anyone seriously think he was giving any of that back to the Bonannos?
Please. He was sleeping with Old Martin's wife and fully planned to spend Old Martin's money. He just had to launder it slowly so the IRS didn't come knocking.
He examined the new gear.
[Magician's Top Hat: A top hat forged from unknown dimensional technology. You can actually pull items out of thin air! Can store a maximum of 5 items simultaneously (items must fit through the brim). Replenishes durability at midnight. This won't make you a real magician, but it's pretty damn close!]
Hammer space? Actual pocket dimension?
Lawson immediately stepped into the hospital restroom to test it. He dropped a pack of cigarettes into the hat, turned it completely upside down and shook it—nothing fell out. He reached inside, felt the pack, and pulled it back out.
Incredible. The Payday App had always had a slight sci-fi edge, but this was straight-up magic. Perfect for smuggling weapons or contraband past checkpoints.
Next, the new Trump Card.
[Spider: Grants unparalleled sensory perception. You can instantly detect hidden dangers, lethal intent, and the gaze of others. With great power comes great responsibility!]
Literal Spidey-Sense.
Lawson had been wondering what this one did. Massively overpowered. No more surprise tails or sniper crosshairs. With this equipped, nobody would ever sneak up on him again.
The system's quote made him grimace. Every Spider-Man got an Uncle Ben moment…
Let's hope that part doesn't apply here.
Satisfied with his loot, Lawson stretched and stepped back into the hallway.
Sofia had just come out of the ICU room.
"Lawson, where were you?"
"Just stepped into the restroom for a smoke. What's wrong?"
"Come inside. We need to talk."
Her face was an emotionless mask. Out in public hallways she still had to maintain strict distance. Felice's accusations had been a wake-up call. Until she shed the "Mrs. Bonanno" title, she couldn't afford to look affectionate.
"Of course, Madam."
Lawson followed her into the sterile anteroom of the ICU and closed the heavy door behind them.
The second the latch clicked, Sofia threw herself at him, kissing him with desperate, crushing intensity.
Their tongues tangled, breathless and frantic.
It took a long time before she finally pulled back, panting.
"Lawson… I've made my decision."
"Are you sure?"
The day after the church sit-down, Lawson had shown her the digital ledger he recovered from the bank.
The files were lethal. They could send eighty percent of the Bonanno syndicate to federal prison for life.
Or they could sanitize them—hand the FBI only what was needed to lock up Luca Pastore and his loyalists, purging every internal threat to her rule.
Sofia had spent three days agonizing over it.
"Sitting in that chair doesn't make me happy," she whispered, eyes fierce. "Not if it means I have to hide my feelings for you in the shadows. Let the Bonanno family burn."
She wasn't drunk on power.
Being Boss meant living under a microscope. It forced her to stay away from him. She was done with the game. She wanted to be with him in the open.
"No regrets?" Lawson asked softly.
"My only regret is that he won't be able to scream while he watches his empire burn."
Sofia glared through the observation glass at Old Martin hooked up to the machines. Pure hatred burned in her eyes.
"As long as you're sure," Lawson replied smoothly. "I never force anyone's hand."
Sofia tightened her grip on his shirt. A dark, twisted look crossed her face.
"Lawson… did you know the doctor just told me he's suffering from locked-in syndrome? His body is paralyzed, he can't speak… but his mind is completely awake."
"Is that right?"
Her hand trailed slowly down his chest. Her breathing hitched, eyes turning dark and wet with lust.
"Do you want to take my virginity right in front of him?"
Lawson recognized the trope instantly—classic late-night premium-cable NTR revenge plot.
He hadn't realized Italians were into that level of psychological warfare. Then again, they did produce Tinto Brass.
Normally Lawson considered himself a man of high moral standing and would never participate in something so depraved—
Sofia's hand closed around him with expert precision.
Fuck it.
"Ah!"
A muffled gasp escaped her lips as he lifted her up.
Sofia immediately turned her head, locking eyes with Old Martin through the glass.
His eyes were open, twitching violently in their direction. The heart-rate monitor was spiking hard.
The sight of his helpless agony flooded Sofia with vindictive euphoria. The psychological high completely overpowered any physical discomfort.
"Lawson… don't—don't slow down! The doctors are going to check the monitors soon!"
Hearing the ticking clock, Lawson pinned the throttle to the floor.
The high-stakes danger and thrill of getting caught pushed his senses into overdrive.
Sofia matched him with feral desperation.
Ten minutes of absolute, high-speed intensity later, they crossed the finish line.
Through the glass, Old Martin's heart-rate monitor screamed, BPM redlining at a lethal level.
No time to rest. Lawson set her down, helped straighten her skirt, and grabbed the can of clinical air freshener from the counter, spraying the anteroom aggressively to kill the scent of sex.
He had learned that lesson the hard way last time.
Sofia leaned heavily against the wall, legs trembling so violently she couldn't speak.
They finished fixing their clothes mere seconds before the ICU doors burst open and a team of doctors rushed in to stabilize the crashing Mafia Boss.
---