Chapter 4 FINAL BREATH

The Salvatores message tormented her. Someone had betrayed father, and now innocent people had been killed.

Her phone vibrated against her desk as she organized her things. Antonio's name displayed on the screen.

"I need more time," she said without pause.

"Time has run out." His voice sounded worn and defeated. "The Salvatores agreed to meet. "Tonight at Bellissimo."

Sophia's breath caught. Bellissimo was her father's main restaurant, providing a neutral environment for crucial business meetings.

"I thought you were handling it."

"This is different." Antonio coughed, producing a sharp rattling sound. "They're asking for you specifically."

Ice invaded her veins. "Me? Why?"

"They know you are my heir. "Word spreads quickly in our world." A prolonged pause. "Vincenzo Salvatore says he'll only negotiate with the future of the Ricci family."

The consequences were clear. If she refused, more blood would flow.

"What time?" she finally inquired.

"Eight o'clock. "Private Dining Room." His voice softened. "Cara mia, you don't have to decide everything tonight. "Just listen to their proposal."

Sophia closed her eyes. "I'll be there."

"Dominick will meet you at your apartment at seven-thirty with security."

"No," she replied firmly. "If I'm doing this, I'm not going to arrive like a princess with guards. "I will drive myself."

"Sophia-"

"I can handle one dinner, Father." She gathered her resolve. "Besides, whoever leaked information about the ledgers could be anyone-even someone in your inner circle."

Silence spread between them.

"You're already thinking like a Ricci boss," Antonio eventually concluded, proud despite his worry. "Fine. Drive yourself. But keep your phone on and call me if anything feels wrong.

Sophia gazed at the stack of papers she had to grade after they had disconnected. How could she concentrate on student essays when her entire life was unraveling?

Nonetheless, she pushed herself through her day's activities: teaching, office hours, and faculty meetings. Normalcy felt like a thin veneer waiting to crack at any moment.

Sophia stood at 7:30 that evening,Sophia stood in front of her closet, deliberating. This wasn't just dinner, but a message. Her typical business clothes, as well as anything that made her appear overly effortful, would be insufficient.

She chose a black sheath dress that was both elegant and austere, paired with a blood-red jacket that hinted at power without displaying it. Her mother's pearl earrings completed the set. Sophia studied her reflection, unable to recognize the woman staring back-not quite the professor, not nearly the mafia princess.

Something in-between. Something harmful.

Her phone vibrated with a text from her father: Be careful. Never put your trust in anyone.

Sophia arrived at Bellissimo at 7:55 and parked in the allotted spot. The restaurant was filled with pleasant light, with couples and business companions visible through the windows, enjoying their meals in complete ignorance of what would happen in the private room upstairs.

The maître d' recognized her immediately. "Miss Ricci," he said, bowing slightly. "Your father called ahead. "Please follow me."

Sophia could feel eyes on her as she followed him through the main eating area. She kept her chin up, channeling the confidence she'd witnessed in her father numerous times. The Ricci name may be a burden, but tonight it was also armor.

The Salvatore party has not yet arrived," the maître d' told her as he opened the door to the private dining area. "Would you care for a drink while you wait?"

"Sparkling water with lime," she said, slipping into a chair facing the door. Never turn your back on an entrance-one of her father's first lessons.

Minutes went by. Eight o'clock came and went. Sophia checked her phone at 8:15. No messages. She texted her father, "They're late." Should I be concerned?

No response.

At 8:30, a shiver ran down her spine. She called Antonio. Go straight to voicemail.

Something wasn't right.

She tried Dominick next. No answer.

Sophia rose from her seat, an unfathomable sense of fear pouring over her. The Salvatores' absence could be a power move, causing her to wait to assert authority, but her father's silence was unusual.

The waiter approached with new water. "Do you want to order, Miss Ricci? Or continue to wait?" "Has there been any word from my father or the Salvatore party?"

"Not that I'm aware of, miss."

Sophia grabbed her purse. party?" "I need to call. "I'll be right back."

In the hallway, she tried her father again. Nothing. The restaurant's ambient noise became stifling, the joyful chatter and clinking glasses glaring In contrast to her increasing panic.

She was on her way downstairs, about to step outdoors for better reception, when she noticed a ruckus near the kitchen. Staff members got together and whispered urgently. The manager was on the phone, his face pale.

She approached. "Is everything alright?"

The workers went silent, their eyes expanding with awareness.

"Miss Ricci-" the manager began, but was cut off by a crash from the kitchen as a busboy rushed through the doors.

"It is spreading to the north side of the structure! "Everyone must evacuate!"

What's happening?" Sophia asked.

The manager paused. "There was an incident at your father's restaurant in town. "The one in Little Italy."

Cold fear swept over her. "What kind of incident?"

"A shooting," he said reluctantly. "We just got word." She couldn't wait to hear more.

She pushed past the increasing mob, sprinting for the exit. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with her car keys, dropping them twice before successfully unlocking the door.

The drive to Little Italy was a whirlwind of red lights and honking horns as she swerved through traffic, exceeding all speed limits. Her father's second restaurant, Famiglia, was smaller and more private than Bellissimo, where Antonio conducted his most delicate business.

One block away,Flashing police lights created a rhythmic blue and red glow throughout the darkness. Sophia abandoned her automobile on the curb, rejecting a police officer's order to move it.

"My father's in there," she called over her shoulder. "Antonio Ricci!"

Yellow police tape around the entrance. Officers kept back a growing crowd of bystanders and journalists. Sophia pushed her way to the forefront.

"I need to get in! My Father-" "No one's allowed in, ma'am," a gruff officer blocked her way.

"You do not understand, my name is Sophia Ricci. "That is my father's restaurant."

Recognition flashed across the officer's face, followed by something worse: pity.

"Miss Ricci, you need to wait here."

The restaurant's front window was smashed, sending glass gleaming across the walkway like diamonds. Through the fractured panes,She saw upturned tables and crimson dots on white tablecloths.

"Where is my father?" Her voice cracked .

The officer's hand moved to the radio. "Captain, we have Antonio Ricci's daughter on scene."

Before he could continue, another cop emerged into the restaurant, grim-faced and pale. He spotted Sophia and approached, taking off his hat.

"Miss Ricci?" I am Detective Liam Carter."

"Where is he?" She scanned his face, already knowing the answer based on his solemn look.

"I'm sorry to inform you-"

"Take me to him," she said. "Now."

Something in her tone-a steel edge that astonished even her-caused the investigator to question the protocol he was about to follow.

This way," he replied gently. "But I have to warn you, it's... it's not good."

The restaurant's interior has been turned into a combat zone. Blood spilled across the white walls. Shell casings littered the floor. Sophia recognized with detached horror that two men, security guards, were dead where they had fallen.

Detective Carter brought her back to Antonio's private office. Before they arrived, a group of paramedics emerged, wheeling a trolley between them. The sheet-covered form was obvious.

"Wait," Sophia said, her voice faraway in her own ears. "I need to see him."

The paramedics exchanged looks with the detective, who nodded grudgingly.

Sophia, with shaky fingers, peeled aside the covers. Despite the violence that had claimed him,

AntonioRicci's face remained placid.A single bullet hole in his forehead-execution style. His eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted, as if he were preparing to provide one more lesson.

"The shooters were gone before anyone called 911," Carter explained softly. "A professional hit. Witnesses described seeing masked guys departing the scene.

The words poured over her, meaningless against the backdrop of her father's lifeless body. Sophia reached out and touched his still warm hand. The Ricci family crest signet ring, which he always wore, gleamed beneath the strong lights.

"He can't be moved yet," Carter explained. "The medical examiner needs to-"

"Give us a moment," Sophia said, not turning away from her father. Something about her tone made it plain that this was not a request.

The investigator hesitated, then took a step back. "One minute."

When sheShe was alone with her father's body. Sophia leaned close. "I'm so sorry," she muttered. "I should have been here."

Antonio's hand was becoming colder beneath hers. This man, who appeared indestructible and dominated her entire life even when she tried to flee, was gone.

A glitter of white drew her attention-a small piece of paper grasped by her father's other hand. Sophia delicately extracted it, casting a quick peek to verify Detective Carter was not watching.

Her father's exquisite penmanship contained three lines:

The ledger is the key. Never put your trust in anyone. Only blood can lead.

She slid the paper into her handbag right as the detective returned.

"Miss Ricci,we need to ask you some questions."

Sophia straightened; something hardened.

Inside her. The scholar who had arrived at Bellissimo earlier that evening had gone. In her place stood a woman with icy veins and a fiery heart.

"Of course, Detective." Despite the fury raging within, her voice remained firm. "But first, I have to make a call. My father's attorney must be alerted."

I felt the weight of her father's signet ring in her pocket, where she had secretly slipped it.

As she stepped aside to dial Dominick's number. She now held the final piece of Antonio Ricci, as well as everything else he had created.

Trust no one.

Looking around at the wreckage, at the police officers chronicling her father's last minutes, at the body of the guy who had Sophia make her decision despite all of my attempts to prepare her for it.

The Salvatore dinner invitation had been a diversion. Someone had planned this carefully, so she wouldn't be by her father's side when he needed her the most.

Only blood can lead.

Her father's last message was obvious. The time for running from her inheritance has passed.

The Ricci empire would have an empress tonight.