Claimed by the Mafia Don Chapter 24: A Price

STEFANO RUSSO’S (NERO’S) POV

By the ti we reached Somchai’s mansion, Zoe was already fast asleep beside .

She had fallen asleep halfway through the drive—her head resting lightly against my arm, her breathing steady and soft. Outside, the world had turned gray with dawn, the early light spilling across the city like a pale mist. I sat there quietly, watching the shadows shift on her face, and for the first ti in a long while, I felt sothing I couldn’t na.

Relief. Maybe guilt. Maybe both.

Somchai sat in the front passenger seat beside his driver, giving quiet directions in Thai. Behind us, Benny and Emily followed in the second car. The hum of the engine filled the silence, steady and low.

I sighed, dragging a hand over my face.

It’s been one hell of a week for her.

Even if she didn’t say it, I knew she was exhausted—emotionally, physically, completely. She’d been thrown into my world without warning, without choice. A world full of danger, blood, and secrets. A world she didn’t deserve to see.

I wished I could take it all back. But I couldn’t. Not anymore.

There was sothing I could do, though—protect her. As long as I was alive.

But that ant walking a fine line. Between revenge and love. Between the man I had to be and the one she made want to beco. I couldn’t choose between the two, so I didn’t. I simply vowed, until I found the man who took everything from , I would protect her. Even if it destroyed .

The car rolled to a stop in front of the mansion gates. The place looked just like I rembered it—grand, quiet, tiless. White stone walls glowed faintly in the morning light, surrounded by tall palms that swayed gently in the warm air.

I stepped out first, stretching my legs before turning back to open Zoe’s door.

She stirred when I leaned in, her brows furrowing slightly. Her voice ca out soft, barely a whisper. "Are we... there?"

"Yes," I said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Go back to sleep."

Her eyelids fluttered, then she relaxed again, head falling against my chest as I lifted her into my arms. She instinctively wrapped her arms around my neck, breathing deep, as if my heartbeat was sothing she recognized.

Somchai blinked at us when I turned, his surprise obvious. I didn’t bla him. He had never seen like this. No one had.

"Welco, Master Russo," Somchai’s butler greeted with a bow as we entered the courtyard. His voice was calm, familiar.

I nodded slightly in acknowledgnt and carried Zoe up the wide marble steps. The scent of polished wood and jasmine hung in the air, and for a mont, a faint mory hit —running through these halls as a boy, after my mother died, before I beca who I am now.

I still knew every turn, every hallway. This mansion had once been a second ho.

In the room prepared for us, I laid Zoe gently on the bed. She stirred faintly but didn’t wake. Her hair fell across the pillow like silk. She looked so small there, so peaceful it hurt to look at her.

I pulled the blanket over her and leaned down, pressing a quiet kiss to her forehead. "Rest," I murmured. "You’re safe now."

Then I turned and left, closing the door softly behind .

Downstairs, Somchai was waiting in the living room. When he saw , his mouth curved into a knowing smile.

"You seem to really care for that girl," he said, his tone light but sincere. "I haven’t seen you this soft before. You remind of how your father was... with your mother."

I forced a faint smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. My father and mother—he always had to bring them up.

Before I could reply, footsteps echoed on the staircase. Benny joined us, his expression tired but composed.

"How’s Emily?" I asked quietly.

"She’s fine," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just shaken."

"And the baby?"

Benny nodded slowly. "She didn’t complain of any pain, so I think the baby’s fine."

Somchai’s brows shot up. "Baby?"

Benny hesitated, then sighed. "Yes. She’s pregnant."

"Oh, my..." Somchai’s eyes widened. "Why didn’t you tell sooner?"

"She didn’t want anyone to know," Benny said, his voice low. "We’re still... thinking about keeping it."

I exhaled heavily, my jaw tightening. This was hard on them—on all of us.

"I’ll call the family doctor," Somchai said firmly. "He’ll co check on her right away."

"Thank you," Benny murmured.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him before my mind shifted back to what really brought us here.

"Somchai," I said, voice dropping lower. "I need your help."

He straightened, instantly recognizing my tone.

"How can we find Fernando Ashthorne?"

Somchai let out a deep sigh, his gaze flicking toward the tall windows where the light spilled across the marble floor. "That’s... not going to be easy," he said quietly. "There’s no trace of him anywhere. No records. No family. Nothing."

"But you said you can help," I reminded him, folding my arms and keeping my face neutral though my jaw tightened.

Somchai gave a slow, knowing nod. "I can. But it’s dangerous."

The word hung in the room like a threat. My chest went tight. Dangerous didn’t begin to cover what we’d already been through.

"How dangerous?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.

"Very." He t my eyes without flinching. "Because we don’t even know who Fernando really is. We don’t know who backs him, who hides him, or what kind of protection he’s bought. That’s the problem."

Benny, who’d been standing beside us, spoke up. "So what do we do?" His voice was flat, tired — the kind of tired that had no patience for jokes.

Somchai rubbed his temple, thinking. "We start by peeling the layers," he said slowly. "One thread at a ti. I can have a woman scan any face you give and try to decode it."

"I tried that," Benny cut in. His tone carried more than fatigue — there was frustration there, a small edge. "I ran the image through every official and unofficial database I could access."

Somchai didn’t look surprised. "You did. But you didn’t pull favors from the old network." He turned the words over like a coin, then tilted his head. "There are holes in sanctioned systems. People slip through them with enough money, or with the right nas. The old network doesn’t keep digital breadcrumbs. They bury tracks."

I felt a cold little knot form under my ribs. "What do you an by ’old network’?" I asked.

Somchai sighed. His face softened for a fraction of a second. "There’s a woman. Krai. She’s infamous for unravelling identities. Passports, shell companies, false nas—she makes the invisible visible. I called her the mont I read your ssage."

The na landed with a small thud in my head. Krai?

"She’ll help?" I asked.

"She will, for a price." Somchai’s voice was blunt.