Alex sat in his office at La Fortaleza, the Morales family's private company and mafia headquarters, a towering stone estate on the outskirts of the city, overlooking the harbor. The walls were lined with weapons, surveillance screens, and vintage paintings no one had dared question the origin of. But Alex wasn’t focused on any of it.

His fingers drummed restlessly against the armrest of his chair. The room smelled of leather, cigar smoke, and tension. His private investigator, Marco, stood near the window, pacing. On the table lay a stack of old files, photographs, and faded documents Alex had been tearing through since dawn. Some of them were clues while others were fragments that had to be pueced together to make anything sensible of.

Mateo had been acting strange for weeks, whispering behind closed doors, keeping his phone on silent when Alex entered the room. And Dan? That bastard had slipped out of reach again. It was like chasing a ghost soaked in gasoline.

But tonight, his doubts started to clear.

“You’re not going to like this,” Marco muttered, sliding a single black file across the table.

Alex’s brow furrowed as he picked it up. The label read: Roselyn Thompson.

"She’s Millie’s mother," Marco said.

He flipped it open. The file contained her birth certificate, her Identity Card, her employment records and then, old photographs. Her name appeared again and again through the pages of the file and that was when he found his father's name attached- Victor Morales.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

Marco sighed. “Your father paid her a monthly stipend for fifteen years. Look at the dates. It started after you were born.”

“No,” Alex said, coldly. “No, this can't be...”

“Your mother didn’t know about it and even if she did, she probably thought that Roselyn was just an employee,” Marco cut in. “The Don was very careful. But not careful enough to keep her hidden away forever. ”

Alex stared at the photos. One showed Roselyn, younger and elegant, smiling beside a man who clearly wasn’t Dan. Victor stood behind her, his hand grazing her lower back. Another photo, dated three years after Alex was born, showed Roselyn pregnant. No father listed.

“She was his mistress,” Alex said, the words like glass in his mouth.

Marco nodded slowly. “And Millie…”

Alex dropped the file. “No. Don’t say it.”

“You asked me to dig into everything, boss. This is part of it.”

Alex stood up, pushing the chair back hard enough it hit the wall. He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a shot of whiskey, then tossed it back without tasting a thing. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Millie. The sweet, broken, brave Millie. The woman he was trying not to fall in love with. The woman he had touched. Kissed. Held.

She could possibly be his sister.

He pressed his palm to the cold glass of the window, trying to think, trying not to throw the entire room into chaos.

“I need more,” he said. “Anything. Everything. Did she know? Did Dan know?”

“Dan knew,” Marco replied, picking up another file. “Your father cut her off just before she married Dan. But guess who Roselyn was working for before that?”

Alex didn’t move.

“Victor’s logistics company. She handled the east dock shipments. Confidential stuff. The kind only family touches.”

Alex turned sharply. “So she was an insider before she went off and married Dan.”

“Yes. The Don made her disappear from the books after he let her off the hook. I figured Dan was trying to get her to spill our mafia's weaknesses to him. That was why he kept her under his finger and even your father wasn't aware of what happened to her after that.”

Alex sat back down. The dots were connecting too fast now. Dan had used Roselyn to get access. Then married her to bury the trail. And Millie? Poor Millie. Her entire life had been thrust into this web of secrecy and lies. What did she even know?

“Keep going,” Alex said, barely above a whisper.

“So last week, Mateo accessed our storage vault. Alone. Said he was doing it for you.”

“I didn’t authorize that.”

“I know. And guess what he took? The copy of Victor’s last will. The real one. The one naming Roselyn's child as a potential heir.”

Alex froze.

“That means Victor knew. He knew Roselyn had his child and left something behind for her.”

Marco’s phone buzzed. He checked it, then went pale.

“You need to see this,” he said, handing it over.

Alex snatched the phone and tapped the message open.

It was a video. From an anonymous number.

The screen lit up.

Millie.

She was naked.

Her seductive moans filled the room as the video played.

Her legs were draped over a kitchen counter. Her robe on the floor.

Alex’s mouth went dry. His chest clenched like a vice. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

His blood began to boil as the video continued to play.

“You like that?”

What the fuck?! It was Javi’s voicem

Millie gasped. “Yes.”

Then came the message:

"Like mother, like daughter. A whore. Just like Roselyn."

Alex gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white. The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.

He sat back, silent, rage bleeding through his veins like poison.

He had been played.

And Millie?

Was she really innocent or was she just caught in the storm?

He couldn’t answer that. Not yet.

But he would.

And when he did, he would burn the entire mafia down before he let anyone get away with this betrayal.

His phone buzzed again.

More pictures of Millie.

In her nude form.

"Like mother, like daughter. A whore to the core

I wonder what the Don would think of this."

The sender was unknown.