Chapter 1 - Baby Costello

Alessandro

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Being the hacker for the Cosa Nostra is a job that demands not just skill, but brilliance—a brilliance only I possess.

Long hours, confined to a room, staring at a screen, but it’s a small price to pay for perfection.

Hacking is my art, my science, my lifeblood. The thrill of it all is intoxicating. Every breach, every firewall I tear down, every encrypted message I decode—it's a rush like no other. They depend on me, even if they don't fully understand how much.

Arrogant? Maybe. But when you're as good as I am, you've earned the right to be.

People think Nikolai Costello runs the Costello Crime family, but they're deluded. Even Niko is delusional but I won't say it to his face, well, because, respect.

With a single click, I could bring the entire operation to its knees. I'm the reason the family stays one step ahead, the force driving every success.

I'm their god, their savior, their worst nightmare.

But I was also...

"Baby Costello!"

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh to calm myself. I hated that nickname.

Scott slung his arm over my shoulder, his whiskey sloshing dangerously close to my shirt. I swear to god, if a single drop touched me... He had that twisted grin on his face, the one that usually meant trouble. "Happy birthday! What are you now, twelve? Fourteen?"

I rolled my eyes heaven wards, "Twenty-five, Scott. Try to keep up."

"Twenty-five, huh?" He let out a laugh, "Well, you could've fooled me. You still look like you just graduated kindergarten."

I pushed his arm away, and gave him a shove, "Fuck off!"

"Enjoying the party?" Marco's voice cut through the thumping bass.

I shrugged, a sly smile playing on my lips. "This is nothing. Cindy always knew how to throw a real party," I said, leaning closer to be heard over the music.

Scott raised an eyebrow, shaking his head with a chuckle. "She’s Mrs. Capone now, remember? Put some fucking respect to her name."

I merely lifted a shoulder, "That doesn't change the fact that she threw the best damn parties this family has ever seen."

The nightclub throbbed, the music pounding through the air. Neon lights bathed everything, showing off the sea of bodies dancing and grinding together.

I stood in the VIP area with the men, looking down at the crowd, a drink in hand. The dim lighting couldn't hide the women winking and batting their eyelashes at me.

Getting pussy was the easiest shit ever when you looked as good as I did.

It was surreal, really.

People were always getting blinded by appearances, and mine was perfect. If I hadn’t been born with a diamond-encrusted spoon shoved so far up my ass I could taste it, my looks alone would’ve handed me everything I wanted on a silver platter.

I didn’t have to earn a damn thing—I just had to show up and let my presence do the work.

I knew my exterior was pure power, a weapon that guaranteed I’d get whatever I wanted without breaking a sweat.

I took a sip of my drink, savoring the burn as it went down. All of it was amusing, really. They didn’t even know who I was or what I did; they were just drawn to my looks, power and money that radiated off me.

Pathetic but still amusing.

The countdown to the final ten seconds began, and the entire room joined in, their voices rising in unison.

A waiter approached with a magnum of champagne. He popped the cork with a bang, and as the midnight struck, I grabbed the bottle, shook it vigorously, and threw it into the air, sending a shower of champagne cascading over everyone. The crowd roared, soaking up the liquid gold.

Scott clapped me on the back, "Now that's how you kick off a birthday, Alessandro!"

Niko, Lorenzo, and Marco joined us, raising their glasses in a toast. "To Alessandro!" Niko said, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "I've got you the car you have been eyeing for the past week. It will be in your garage before you get back home."

We clinked glasses, the sound of crystal ringing through the air. The music pumped louder, and the dancing intensified.

The women around me grew bolder, their touches lingering, their whispers more suggestive.

A tall blonde in a tiny sequined dress, slid next to me, her fingers tracing my jaw.

As more women flocked toward us, one of them reached out for Scott, her fingers almost grazing his arm. He pushed her away with a dismissive shove, his irritation barely masked. Scott might have looked the most approachable, but even he had his limits.

Niko, with his brooding presence, scared everyone who dared to look his way. Lorenzo, on the other hand, was a walking nightmare, his reputation alone enough to scare off anyone with half a brain. Marco’s stern expression was a silent warning—if looks could kill, the women would have dropped dead on the spot.

I was the charming one in this family, everyone knew that.

Scott raised his voice over the clamor, “We’re all married here, ladies. Focus on the birthday boy, not us.”

He gestured toward me with a dramatic sweep of his arm, making it clear who the real prize was.

A brunette with curves in all the right places sidled up beside me, her hand sliding over my shoulder and down my chest. She pressed herself against me, her lips brushing my ear as she spoke, her words lost in the loud music.

The music changed, the bass vibrating through the floor and up through us. I stood, holding the champagne bottle high, and the crowd's energy surged. I took a swig and passed it to the blonde, she drank eagerly before passing it around.

I leaned back, pulling the blonde and brunette closer. They giggled and whispered in my ear, their voices a sweet background noise to the pulsating beat.

I took a sip of the champagne and then kissed the blonde deeply, forcing the champagne ointo her mouth. As I pulled back, she giggled again, her eyes half-closed with lust.

Turning to the brunette, I pressed my lips to hers, feeling her melt against me. The blonde took another swig of champagne and then transferred it mouth-to-mouth to the brunette. Then the brunette, did the same, passing the champagne to me through a kiss.

Eventually, the men headed home to their families. Hours passed, but the party didn’t lose its energy.

I leaned in close to the girls on either side of me, "Let's get out of here," I suggested. They looked up at me and eagerly nodding their heads.

We made our way down from the VIP section, leaving the exclusive area behind. The bass from the music was so loud it seemed to shake the floor beneath us. As we went down, the space opened up, and we were hit by the full force of the crowd. The main level of the nightclub was packed, with people dancing and shouting over the booming beats. The air was thick with energy and the smell of sweat and perfume, it was nauseating.

As we walked through the throng of people, a woman suddenly collided with me. The first thing I noticed about her were the freckles on her face. Followed by her hazel eyes staring up at me in panic and the hint of her red hair as light fell on her for a moment in between. She muttered a quick "sorry," before she disappeared back into the sea of bodies.

I barely gave her a second glance. She probably did intentionally, girls like to throw themselves on me. I continued forward, both of the women following closely.

We made our way through the crowd, the girls clinging to me. The club's heavy doors swung open, and we stepped out into the cool night air.

The city lights reflected off the wet pavement, my driver pulled the limo outfront and I led the ladies inside first before following behind.

As we drove through the quiet streets, the girls leaned into me, their hands exploring, their lips brushing against my neck and ears.

We arrived at my place, and I led them inside, shutting the door behind us to cut off the outside world.

As soon as the door closed, the mood shifted. I turned to the girls and pulled the blonde in for a kiss. She pressed close, her body warm and soft against mine. I felt her hands exploring my chest.

The brunette started kissing my neck and shoulders. She slipped her hands under my shirt. I gently pushed the blonde onto the couch and then kissed the brunette. The blonde began trailing kisses down my chest, her hands moving to my crotch.

I settled back on the couch as both girls took their place between my legs, kneeling on the floor. The blonde unbuckled the belt while the brunette unzipped. They were all over me—hands exploring, mouths working, tongues flicking, and fingers stroking with a satisfying rhythm.

I leaned back against the plush cushions, a groan escaping my lips as I savored the sensation. The heat and pleasure were overwhelming, and a contented smile spread across my face. At that moment, I couldn’t help but think, damn, I really love my life.

•───⋅☾ ☽⋅───•

I woke up to my phone vibrating insistently somewhere nearby. Reaching out, my hand landed instead on the warm, bare skin of the girl beside me.

I cracked my eyes open, squinting against the early morning light, and then reached for the phone on the nightstand.

Thirty-one missed calls from Niko. It was barely seven a.m. What the hell did he want this early?

I answered the call and pressed the phone to my ear, irritation already creeping into my voice. "What?"

"Where's the money?" Niko's voice was a harsh, he sounded pissed and he was rarely pissed at me.

"What money?" I snapped.

"Have you looked at our goddamn accounts, Alessandro? Eleven accounts are fucking drained—eleven! That’s millions of dollars fucking vanished!" He snapped, completely taking my out of my sleep, I blinked, giving my head a shake to clear my head.

I sat up in bed, the movement causing the girls around me to stir. One of them blinked awake, her smile slow and sleepy as she looked at me. I gave her a quick glance and then turned my attention elsewhere, not interested in small talk.

That can't be, no, I felt a sudden jolt of adrenaline as I processed what he had just told me. This couldn't be happening. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, pushing the sheets aside. The blonde beside me gave a startled yelp as I shoved her out of the way, sending her tumbling to the floor. She looked up, bewildered, but I didn't spare her a second glance. There was no time for apologies.

I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand and booted it up, my fingers moving as fast as they could, "I'll call you back," I muttered to Niko before ending the call.

I logged into our accounts. Each one required a password reset. What the fuck?!

My jaw clenched as I saw the timestamps—early this morning, during the hours I had been dead to the world.

"Fuck," I hissed, slamming my fist on the nightstand. The girls around me jolted awake, eyes wide with alarm. The blonde scrambled back onto the bed, her face pale with fear.

"What's going on?" she asked timidly, but I didn't even glance at her.

My passwords had been changed. All of them. The security questions had been altered. I scrolled through the transaction history, my rage building with each new discovery.

"How the hell did this happen?" I muttered to myself, my mind racing with the possibilities.

Whoever did this was no amateur. This was a high-level, premeditated operation. They’d used my credentials to breach the system—there was no other way they could have gotten in. No fucking way.

Could it be the FBI? The thought made me swallow hard. This shit could seriously fuck us over.

"Get out," I growled at the girls. They looked at me, confused, "Now!" I barked, and they scrambled to gather their things and leave, their eyes darting nervously between me and the door.

Once they were gone, I turned my attention back to the laptop. My thoughts were a mess of anger and confusion.

How had this been possible? I had implemented every conceivable precaution, every advanced security measure. Yet here I was, facing a breach that no one had ever achieved before. The FBI had tried and failed to crack my defenses in the past. When they nailed Uncle Luciano for money laundering, I made sure everything disappeared—there wasn’t a trace of the cash they were after.

The thought gnawed at me. I’d always prided myself on having the most unbreakable security in the game. The fact that someone had managed to outwit me was a slap in the face—more infuriating than the prospect of going to prison for life.

Nobody fucking outsmarts Alessandro Costello.

I yanked open a drawer in the nightstand, pulling out a secondary phone. I needed to contact my team, get them on this immediately. I dialed quickly, and waited as the phone rang.

"Frankie," I said when he answered, "we've got a major breach. Eleven accounts drained. Millions gone. I need you on this now."

"I'm on it, boss," Frankie replied, "I'll start tracing the breach and see what we can recover."

"I’ll dig into the breach from my side," I said, "I need a full forensic analysis of how this happened and who’s behind it. If it’s the FBI, obliterate all traces—leave no digital footprint. If it’s not them, gather every bit of intel you can: IP logs, transaction trails, and any metadata they might have left. I need a complete fucking picture."

I ended the call and fixed my gaze on the laptop screen. This wasn’t just a hit on our assets—it was a direct challenge to me and my reputation. Whoever pulled this off thought they could outsmart me, play me for a fool. They were about to learn just how wrong they were.