Signed To The Mafia King - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

ALINA
I stared at the diary.
It was black, square, and leather. Worn, like it had been touched too many times.
My fingers hovered over it.
What if it was personal? What if it had things I wasn’t supposed to see?
I swallowed, running my thumb along the spine. It felt strange, finding something of my father’s after all this time. Like he had left a part of himself behind, just waiting for me to discover it.
Part of me wanted to open it right there. The other part felt protective of it, like it wasn’t even mine to touch.
I let out a slow breath and pushed the drawer back in, hiding it. Then, after a second, I pulled it open again, just to see if I had worked the latch correctly.
The drawer slid out smoothly.
I closed it once more, pressing it firmly shut. I’d go through it later. When I was alone.
Even as I cleared the rest of the desk, moving papers and sorting through old receipts, my mind stayed on the diary.
What was inside?
What had my father been writing about?
I was still thinking about it when Valentina called me over.
“Come look at this.” She was holding something in her hand.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and walked over. “What is it?”
She handed me a piece of paper. A painting. Drawn with bright colors. A child's work.
I blinked, recognizing it immediately.
It was a family portrait.
Our mother, our father, the three of us. Adriano had been barely three or four when he drew this.
The colors were too bright, the figures strange, but it was obviously our family.
I laughed, my heart melting. Adriano had been such a sweet boy. “I remember this,” I murmured, shaking my head.
Valentina nodded. “I thought you would.”
I ran my fingers over the paper, tracing each of us. Mom looked well… fat. Not just a little round, but huge.
I grinned. “She was so offended when she saw this.”
Valentina laughed until she snorted. “Oh, I remember clearly! She pulled Adriano onto her lap and kissed him, and then behind his ear, she whisper-screamed, ‘So I look that fat to you?’”
We both laughed, the memory so vivid it felt like yesterday.
“She was so dramatic about it,” I said. Then I looked at the drawing, my smile fading.
He had kept this all these years.
We hadn’t even known.
“He was a good man, wasn’t he?” I looked up at Valentina. “He really was good.”
Her lips pulled into something soft, something almost sad. Then she huffed. “Too good sometimes.”
My chest ached. “Yeah.”
I sighed, tapping my nails against the shelf. “Probably what got him killed.”
The words sent a slow wave of cold through me. I looked at Valentina.
She sighed. “Do you really think Uncle Roberto could have done it?”
The question felt heavier than anything else in this room.
I shrugged. "I don't know, but yes, I think he did. I'm still looking for the proof."
Valentina rubbed her eyes harshly. I knew she was pressing the tears back. “Pa loved him most. I’ll hate him forever if I find out he did it.”
“He’ll be too dead for you to hate him.”
I turned away before she could respond, walking back to the desk.
My fingers brushed the edge of the drawer.
The diary was still inside. Hidden, waiting. What would I find inside it?
My hands itched with the urge to pull it out, to see what was inside. Maybe it held my father’s most private thoughts.
Maybe it was full of transactions, records of deals, maybe it showed how he had built his empire so strong.
I dragged my hand away and went back to cleaning.
My mind, however, didn’t.
It wandered.
I thought of what I would have to leave to my own children.
Children.
Would I ever even have them?
Would a daughter of mine clean out my office one day, feeling the same ache I felt in that moment?
The thought made me wince.
How could I have children?
Luca wouldn’t even touch me.
My hand clenched around the cloth I was using. Could I leave him after a few years? Walk away and build a life that was actually mine?
No.
I pushed the thought away as quickly as it had come.
Luca would never let me leave him.
I knew that.
The moment he told me—I’m not letting you go, Alina—I had felt the truth of it in my bones.
Was this what I had signed up for?
Years of misery?
Actually… was I miserable? I didn’t hate him as much as I should. I just didn’t like most of the things he did.
My mother’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I looked up as she walked into the study. She stood in the middle of the room, just looking around.
“Don’t clear out everything,” she murmured.
I frowned. “Why?”
She sighed, walking over to one of the shelves. She pulled out a random book. “Maybe I can come here sometimes. Feel closer to him.”
Something in my chest pinched.
“I want to use it as my office,” I said.
She didn’t argue. Just nodded, as if she had expected that.
I turned back to the desk, finishing up. I wiped down the last corner and stepped back, taking a deep breath.
Done.
I reached for my handbag, pulling it closer.
When my mother and Valentina weren’t looking, I bent slightly, slid the drawer open, and pulled out the diary.
My heart thumped.
I put it into my bag, pressed it deep inside, and shut the bag.
Then I stood and turned.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
Valentina dusted her hands off. “I’ll stay and do a bit more. Pietro will drop you off?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
I hugged my mother, inhaling her soft perfume, then walked out.
The moment I stepped into the car, I pulled the diary out.
My fingers shook slightly as I opened it.
The first few pages were nothing special. Notes. Dates.
I kept flipping through, reading randomly. Then I stopped at a page.
And started reading.
My stomach dropped right to the floor.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Dazed.
A list.
Every Mafia family in Chicago.
From the biggest, most powerful, to the smallest.
Details. Family names. Connections. Debts. Secrets.
My fingers went numb around the diary.
Even the Marino family was in here.
The Marinos. Luca’s family.
This was the Holy Grail. I could own the city with this.
My throat went dry.
My father had known secrets about everyone.
Was that why he had been killed?