Sold To The Mafia Don Chapter 166 ~ Jace

Every great victory starts with a lie.

And this one had to be perfect.

I’d spent the last two days building it, word by word, move by move and a trail so convincing even the devil himself would follow it.

Massimo had gone quiet after Giulietta’s death. Too quiet. And silence, in our world, was never surrender. It was a pause before blood.

So I decided to speak his language.

Fear. Greed. Power.

The first thing I did was activate a secure line through one of my n stationed in Naples. He had used that sa route once to feed Massimo intel about the Sicilian ports about a year ago. This ti, the information would be poison disguised as a gift.

I typed the ssage myself. Short. Sharp. Dangerous enough to sting but believable enough to make him hungry.

"Mira Romano wants out. Says she’ll trade your enemy’s location for her freedom."

It didn’t take long for the response to co back.

Massimo’s network had its ears everywhere. Within hours, there were whispers (just the faintest murmurs) from n who owed him loyalty. And like clockwork, his curiosity would pull him to the surface.

That’s what I needed.

To draw him out.

But even knowing how calculated it all was, it didn’t make feel any better.

Every ti I thought about the ssage, I saw Mira’s face. Her voice. The way she looked at last night when she said, "Please don’t do anything that would hurt ."

If she knew I was using her na like this, she’d hate for it. And she’d be right to.

I sat in my office, staring at the empty glass on the table in front of . The lights were low, and the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the city below. Tomas was across from , arms folded, expression grim.

"You’re sure he’ll bite?" he asked finally.

"He’ll bite," I said. "He’s been waiting for a chance to hit where it hurts. This is exactly what he wants - a chance to humiliate and take what’s mine."

"Yeah," Tomas muttered. "Except what’s yours is a woman you actually love this ti."

I looked up at him, but he didn’t back down. He never did.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Jace, what if this goes wrong? What if—"

"It won’t," I cut him off, not minding the fact that this was one of those monts where he didn’t call boss. "I’ve covered every possible angle."

"You always say that before everything explodes." He retorted.

A ghost of a smile tugged at my lips. "Then maybe I’m due for one that doesn’t."

He gave a long, unimpressed look, then sighed. "You’re playing with fire, boss. And this ti, the fire looks a lot like the woman upstairs."

I didn’t reply. Mostly because he was right.

Mira didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to be used as bait, even in theory. But the truth was, she was already a target. Massimo had made that clear the mont he sent those ssages.

If I didn’t end this now, he would find another way to reach her.

I’d rather build the stage myself than let him choose the battlefield.

The plan was simple in design, brutal in execution.

We would use an abandoned hotel on the city’s outskirts — a once-grand structure gutted by ti and neglect. My n had secured it days ago, sweeping every floor, every exit, every shadow.

The walls were hollow, the corridors narrow and perfect for control, perfect for chaos.

We would make Massimo believe Mira was being held there.

He would co with his n, probably no more than a dozen, expecting to find her waiting with my location on her lips.

Instead, he would find .

By the ti Tomas and I arrived that evening, the rain had started again. It fell hard against the roof, steady and cold, echoing through the empty halls. The place slled of dust and gun oil.

My mind drifted to Mira who was quiet throughout the flight and even at the hotel. I didn’t want to bring her here but leaving her behind wasn’t an option. Massimo already had eyes everywhere and if he realized she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, the whole plan would crumble.

~

Hours later...

My n were already in position, the periter was locked, snipers on every vantage point, vehicles hidden behind the ridge.

The trap was alive now. All it needed was its prey.

Tomas followed into the main hall. The floor was cracked marble, lit only by the faint glow of the ergency lights we’d installed. In the center stood a single chair the illusion of captivity. A few strands of rope, a drop of blood for realism.

It was a lie good enough to sell itself.

He broke the silence first.

"What if she doesn’t forgive you?"

I didn’t look at him right away. I just stared at the chair the empty space that, in Massimo’s mind, would hold the woman I loved.

"She will," I said finally. "If I live long enough to ask for forgiveness."

He huffed a humorless laugh. "That’s a big if."

I turned to him then, my expression unreadable. "Then let’s make sure it’s not."

We went over the positions again. Every angle, every timing cue, every escape route. Precision was survival.

When you’d been raised by a man like Vittorio Romano, you learned early that perfection wasn’t optional... it was instinct.

At exactly 10:14 p.m., the first report ca through my earpiece.

"Convoy sighted. Five vehicles. North approach."

The world seed to slow.

The sound of rain blurred.

Even my heartbeat went quiet.

I moved toward the balcony overlooking the street, watching the headlights cut through the fog. My n shifted like clockwork, unseen but everywhere.

Massimo had taken the bait.

I should’ve felt victory. Satisfaction. Sothing close to triumph. But instead, all I felt was that old, familiar ache — the one that ca from knowing every win in this life cost too much.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the railing as the convoy drew closer.

Behind , Tomas’s voice was low, steady. "Showti."

I didn’t answer. I just watched the cars roll in, one by one, headlights reflecting off the rain-slick asphalt like distant lightning.

Massimo was coming.

And by the ti he realized the truth, it would already be too late.