Chapter 4 Alessio

"Boss, I have the investigation on the Yakuza oyabun, and you won't believe it if I tell you, so I'm leaving you the photos," said Massimo, my most trusted man.

I took the folder from his hands, and inside were the movements of the man I was doing business with: Hiroshi Yagami. He played the role of the oyabun of the largest Asian mafia, one that had taken root in California during the diaspora of the Second World War. Like many others, including the Camorra itself that I currently led, they had claimed territory and established themselves until the place became their home.

The Japanese mafia wasn't just closed and secretive; they followed a system and codes of honor that were much more rigid than ours. Unlike us, they had a head figure who served as a father to all their members. After being pursued in Asia, Hiroshi migrated here to delve into the foundations of a place that provided him with most of his profits.

In the images, I saw him change clothes, distance himself from his two most loyal men, and take a flight to San Francisco. He stayed in a discreet hotel and there he met a woman who appeared to be a goddess: blonde, stunning, tall, and over forty years old. I looked at my man, and he smiled at me with amused satisfaction.

"Keep looking..."

"It's not strange for the Yakuza to have mistresses," I retorted, and he burst into laughter.

"You're right, it's not strange, but what's expressed in the following photos and the report is what's unusual. Read it carefully," he said with amusement and checked his watch. "I'll review everything related to the recent fights and new fighters."

"Go ahead..."

"If you have any doubts, don't hesitate to call me."

With that, he walked away, and I continued looking at the photos.

I noticed that Massimo had followed the blonde woman. She entered an event organization center, greeted many people, and managed various things. Her face, for some reason, seemed familiar to me until I remembered that she used to be a well-known model.

She appeared in commercials, and there was one for a beer where she was in a bikini. I chuckled because the perverted Hiroshi must have had some kind of obsession with her. Then, as I moved to the next photo, I was surprised to see that after she returned home, a car parked, and a beautiful girl with Asian features got out.

That's when my neurons kicked in.

"The old man has his dirty secrets."

The last photo showed the two of them having dinner at a restaurant, hugging each other affectionately. So, when I looked at the reports, my thought was confirmed: they were mother and daughter.

Amaya James

Date of Birth: August fifteenth, year two thousand.

Mother: Pamela James.

Father: not registered.

Main Address: San Francisco, Lang Avenue, Thirteenth Street, House number eighty-two.

Residential Address: Berkeley, university dormitories.

Email: amayajames_@gmail.com

Social Security Number: 768-235-1921

Occupation: Undergraduate student in the English program at the University of California, UC Berkeley, with a GPA of 4.0.

Political Party: unidentified.

Marital Status: single.

Social Life: no noteworthy activities.

Hobbies: reading and volunteering at the Creston Public Library, where she helps children in her free time and spends the rest of her time in the university library working as a consultant.

Attached: Academic schedule, daily routines, work, and details of her dietary plan.

I reread the dossier many times, even enough to memorize a couple of details.

What was curious was that, according to the investigator's latest reports, the story Pamela maintained was that Amaya's father was a fling she had in Japan while she was modeling there. However, it was known that she not only enrolled the girl in Japanese classes but also signed her up for activities and took her to places where she could connect with her paternal culture.

It was strangely satisfying to read that.

It seemed like a lot for a fling. So, after digging deep, according to some unreliable sources, Hiroshi stopped meeting with his daughter when she turned eighteen. What caught my attention the most, and by the night, I had thoroughly studied the man's dark secret. It was obvious that the girl was his daughter. She shared the most characteristics with him, as well as his love for reading.

I grinned like a content cat, delighted to have something to potentially use against my future new prey if necessary.

"Hiroshi Yagami, if you play dirty with me, I'll make sure the Yakuza not only loses respect for you but also hates you for hiding such a beauty," I said aloud.

This fact couldn't be hidden.

I examined the photos closely, marveling at how Amaya had a unique beauty, one that wasn't common, especially because she had an inherent innocence that added a subtle charm to the whole affair. That's why I prepared for the meeting I had with the Yakuza's high command. Whether I liked it or not, I needed them to secure the military power necessary to defeat the other Camorra clan that had turned my life into a disaster.

They not only killed my parents and the heir of the Italian mafia, but they also kidnapped my little sister, sold her, and traumatized her to a level that I swore to avenge until the end of my days. To me, they had to pay with blood, sweat, and tears. That's why I needed to forge the best alliances, undermine their business, acquire better weapons, address the Camorra's weaknesses, and become a Capo that everyone would fear just by mentioning my name.

Alessio Milano had to become synonymous with tremors, with power, with justice, and cruelty at the same time. I would make them pay one by one for all the harm they brought upon my family, and if I had to play dirty with the Yakuza to achieve that, I would.

And perhaps she would be the means to achieve my end.