All Chapters of HUNTING ROSE; THE MAFIA DARKEST OBSESSION : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Federico Di GraziaThere comes a point when you realize that maybe, just maybe, you've gone too far. It’s not regret—just the realization that a slower approach might have been the better option. Seeing Rose lying there earlier, tubes attached to her, before the doctor removed some, stirred something inside me.The doctor warned that she could have died if she had remained unconscious any longer. I had no choice but to drive her to the hospital. When the doctors asked who I was, I pretended to be her husband so they would admit her. They made me sign some papers, and I had to wait outside while they did their job.I knew about her allergy, but I wanted her to eat her words—those words of regret, claiming she wished she had never met me. For some reason, that statement burned. She meant it.A doctor emerged from her room, informing me how lucky Rose was to be alive. She warned me to be cautious about foods containing cinnamon because we might not be as fortunate next time. She advised

Rose Sinclair"Hi, I'm Marvel. Tier 2."The girl who had earlier advised me to fall in line whispered just loud enough for me to hear."I'm Rose. What’s Tier 2?" I asked, my voice low. I had no idea what she meant.She didn’t answer right away, her attention flicking back to the two men engaged in hand-to-hand combat. They moved with precision, anticipating each other’s attacks like they had memorized each other's fighting styles. Every punch, every block, every counter seemed sharper than the last, the blows landing with bone-crunching force."In here, we’re ranked in four levels—tiers," Marvel finally explained. "Tier 3? Might as well be beginners. They have no special skills, just basic combat training. Tier 2 fighters—like me—are stronger, faster. We have specialties, something that makes us stand out. Then there's Tier 1, the best of the best. They don’t just fight in the war grounds—they go on missions for the Don. You don’t mess with them."I kept my gaze on the fight, trying t

Federico Di Grazia;The Godfather had arranged a meeting at an exclusive golf club. Golf wasn’t exactly my game—I’d barely played—but on a bright, sunny day, surrounded by the city's wealthiest and most influential men discussing business and politics, I couldn't ask for a better setting.Stepping onto the pristine green, I knew that making a strong first impression was crucial. I had done my homework, studying the habits and interests of the businessmen and politicians I was about to meet. Confidence, trustworthiness, and the ability to listen—these were the currencies of power in this world, and I intended to use them wisely.As I approached the group, I offered firm handshakes, meeting their eyes with measured curiosity. The game had yet to begin. Senator Moretti, a man in his late seventies, regarded me with a hearty laugh. Dressed in an all-white ensemble, he looked every bit the seasoned statesman. He might have aged, but there was no mistaking his power—half the city’s politica

Rose Sinclair; The resident doctor cleared me for discharge last night. By 5 AM, I was already up, showered, dressed in casual clothes, and ready for whoever was coming to pick me up. The past week had been nothing but a cycle of monotony, with the old TV in the ward playing the same fighting techniques over and over again.By now, my mind had memorized those moves—not by choice, but by sheer repetition. The more you’re exposed to something, the more your subconscious absorbs it. That’s just how the brain works.I sat on the bed, waiting patiently. By 6 AM, Mad Max Waltz walked in. His sharp eyes scanned the room before locking onto mine.From across the ward, Max held my gaze in silent challenge. The tension thickened, an invisible line drawn between us. There was nothing I liked about him—his cruelty, his demeanor, his complete lack of kindness.His piercing blue eyes seemed to drill into me, unwavering. My eyes watered slightly from the intensity, but I refused to look away. I wan

Federico Di Grazia;I was trying to wrap up some paperwork before my meeting with the confraternity later today. Being a senator was no small task, and my right-hand man, James, and I had worked tirelessly—pulling an all-nighter to stay ahead. The campaign team had dropped off samples earlier: T-shirts, hats, banners—everything a politician needed.I know, it sounds like I don’t fully belong in that world. Right now, I see myself as an interim, just until I officially secure the position—which, by the way, is already in motion.A soft knock on the door pulled me from my work. I arched a brow at James, who responded with a silent I’ll check it out look. I gave him a slight nod, granting permission.He moved to the door, cracked it open just enough to peek outside, then swung it wider for the visitor—my head of security, Theo Bennett.Theo gave a small bow before stepping inside. “Morning, Boss.”“Theo,” I acknowledged, my focus still on my desktop. “Something wrong?”“Boss, you have a