Hello everybody welcome to the spiciness overloaded
Enjoy
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The morning sun hit the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master bedroom with the subtlety of a flashbang.
I woke up slowly, my body heavy and aching in a way that was both exhausting and strangely satisfying.
The sheets which were Egyptian cotton, thread count higher than my credit score back in the real world were tangled around my legs.
I reached out, my hand searching the other side of the bed.
Cold.
I sat up, pushing hair out of my eyes.
Dante was gone.
The room was pristine.
The shattered glass decanter from last night had been cleaned up.
My ruined dress was gone, likely incinerated.
On the bedside table, where the empty glasses had been, sat a single white rose and a note written on heavy, cream-colored cardstock.
"I have a war to manage.
Stay inside the gates.
If you need anything, ask Marco. - D"
No, "Love, Dante."
No, "Last night was amazing."
Just orders. What an asshole.
I let out a dry laugh, flopping back onto the pillows.
"Classic Mafia Ceo behavior.
Grade A emotionally constipated."
But as I stared at the ceiling, the events of the previous night came rushing back.
The chandelier, The sniper.
The way Dante had looked at me...like I was a puzzle he was desperate to solve.
And then, the blue screen flickered into existence above the four-poster bed.
[ DAILY MISSION RESET ]
[ DAY 2 OF 7 UNTIL HEROINE ARRIVAL ]
[ CURRENT STATUS: THE BOSS'S MISTRESS (Official) ]
[ REPUTATION:
* Dante: OBSESSED (40%)
* Cassandra: HOSTILE (85%)
* Staff: FEARFUL/CURIOUS
* Underworld: THE WITCH OF THE WEST PIER (Rumor) ]
"The Witch?" I muttered, rubbing my temples.
"Better than The Corpse, I suppose."
I swung my legs out of bed.
The floor was cold.
I needed to shower, I needed coffee, and I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do for the next twelve hours.
I couldn't just survive on adrenaline spikes and assassination attempts.
I needed a foundation.
I needed power that didn't rely on Dante being in the room.
I walked into the bathroom.
It was the size of my old apartment, clad in black marble and gold fixtures.
As I turned on the shower, staring at my reflection in the massive mirror, I saw the bruises on my ribs from where Dante had tackled me behind the buffet table.
"Real world," I whispered to myself.
"This is the real world now."
In the novels, the main character usually wakes up with perfect hair and a new magical power.
I woke up with a stiff neck , swollen pussy and a very real realization: I was alone in a house full of people who probably wanted me dead, with a System I couldn't explain to anyone.
If I told Dante, "Hey, a floating blue screen told me where the sniper was",
he wouldn't marvel at my power.
He'd have me committed to a psychiatric ward, or worse, dissected to see how I ticked.
To them, I had to be Serena Rossi: The sudden prodigy.
The girl with the devil's luck.
Dressing was a strategic operation.
The closet was filled with clothes Gianluca had sent over—rows of silk, cashmere, and leather.
I bypassed the aggressive Mafia Queen red dresses and chose something softer but equally armored: a high-waisted pencil skirt in charcoal grey and a cream silk blouse with long sleeves.
Business casual for the discerning hostage.
When I opened the bedroom door, two guards were already standing there.
They straightened up, their hands twitching toward their belts.
"Miss Serena," one of them said.
I recognized him,Enzo.
He was young, maybe twenty, with the nervous energy of a rookie.
"Good morning, Enzo," I said, keeping my voice smooth.
"Is breakfast being served?"
"The... uh, the Dowager Mrs. Moretti is in the dining room, Miss," Enzo stammered.
"The Boss usually eats early and leaves."
"I see."
So, the Dragon Mother was guarding the food.
"Lead the way," I said.
Walking through the Moretti mansion in the daylight was different than the night before.
I noticed the details....the dust-free surfaces, the silent servants who vanished into doorways as I approached.
It was a well-oiled machine, cold and efficient.
And everywhere I looked, the System gave me data.
[ ITEM: MING DYNASTY VASE ]
[ VALUE: $1.2 MILLION ]
[ NOTE: A forgery.
The real one is in Cassandra's private vault in Tuscany. ]
I almost stopped walking.
A forgery? Interesting.
We reached the dining room.
It was a cavernous space with a table long enough to land a plane on.
Cassandra Moretti sat at the far end, looking like a monarch in exile.
She was drinking tea from a cup that looked like it would shatter if you breathed on it wrong.
She didn't look up as I entered.
"I expected you to sleep until noon," she said, her voice dry.
"Considering the... exertions of the evening."
I didn't flinch.
I walked to the chair to her right , not the head of the table, but the position of the guest of honor and sat down.
A maid immediately appeared to pour coffee.
"Adrenaline is a powerful stimulant, Mrs. Moretti," I replied, unfolding my napkin.
"And I wanted to ensure the household was recovering from the shock."
Cassandra finally looked at me.
Her eyes were the same icy grey as Dante's, but where his held fire, hers held only judgment.
"The household is fine," she said.
"We are used to violence, Serena.
My husband was shot three times in this very room twenty years ago.
We merely replaced the rug."
She took a sip of tea.
"You, however, are a new variable.
My son seems to think you are a talisman. He told me what happened with the platter."
"It was a lucky throw," I lied effortlessly.
"The light caught the silver.
I just wanted to distract him."
"Luck," Cassandra mused.
"You seem to have a lot of it for a girl whose father lost everything on a pair of dice."
She was digging.
She wanted to know if I was a threat.
"My father relied on chance," I said, picking up a piece of toast.
"I rely on observation.
I noticed the waiter was shaking. I noticed the angle of the balcony.
It wasn't magic, Cassandra.
It was situational awareness."
Cassandra stared at me for a long beat.
The Danger Level above her head hovered at a steady [ 85/100 ].
She didn't believe me, not fully.
But she couldn't prove otherwise.
"Dante has locked down the estate," she said, changing the subject.
"No one in, no one out until he finds out who hired the sniper.
You are confined to the grounds."
"I understand."
"Do you?" She set her cup down. "This isn't a vacation, girl. You are a target now.
If Valetti or the Russians can't get to Dante, they will try to get to you to get to him. You are the weak link."
"Then teach me not to be," I said.
The words left my mouth before I could check them with the System.
Cassandra blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You've run this house for thirty years," I said, leaning forward.
"You survived a war that killed your husband. You raised Dante.
If I am the weak link, then strengthen me. Show me how this house works.
Show me how the money moves."
[ SYSTEM ALERT: BOLD MOVE ]
[ RISKY DIALOGUE OPTION SELECTED ]
[ SUCCESS RATE: 25% ]
Cassandra looked at me as if I had asked her to dance naked on the table.
A mixture of shock and insult crossed her face.
"You think you are worthy of learning the family business?" she scoffed.
"You are a bed warmer, Serena.
A temporary amusement."
"Amusements don't save the Don's life twice in one night," I countered softly.
"And if I die because I'm ignorant, Dante will be distracted.
He'll be angry. He might make mistakes.
Do you want your son to be vulnerable because he's mourning a bed warmer?"
I held her gaze. It was a gamble.
I was banking on the one thing the System told me about her: She loved her son more than she hated me.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
The maid in the corner looked like she was praying for invisibility.
Finally, Cassandra let out a short, sharp sigh.
"You have arrogance," she admitted.
"I hate arrogance."
"I call it ambition."
"Fine." She stood up, smoothing her silk skirt.
"If you are going to be trapped here, you might as well be useful.
I have an audit of the household accounts at ten o'clock.
Meet me in the library. Do not be late."
She walked out without looking back.
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]
[ RELATIONSHIP UPDATE: CASSANDRA MORETTI ]
[ STATUS: HOSTILE -> SKEPTICAL ]
[ DANGER LEVEL: 85 -> 80 ]
[ NEW SIDE QUEST: THE AUDIT ]
[ OBJECTIVE: Find the leak in the household budget without using supernatural skills visibly. ]
I let out a breath, my shoulders slumping. Step one complete.
I had access.
The library of the Moretti Estate was less a room and more a cathedral dedicated to knowledge and intimidation.
Two stories of dark mahogany shelves, a rolling ladder, and a smell of old paper and lemon polish.
At 10:00 AM sharp, I walked in.
Cassandra was already at the massive desk, surrounded by ledgers.
"Sit," she commanded, not looking up.
I sat. She pushed a heavy, leather-bound book toward me.
"These are the procurement logs for the estate.
Food, wine, maintenance, security staff wages.
I've been seeing discrepancies in the kitchen budget for months, but the Chef is a cousin of the Capo of the North Side.
I cannot fire him without proof."
She looked at me with a challenge in her eyes.
"Find the theft.
You have one hour.
If you can't, you go back to painting your nails."
I opened the ledger.
It was a mess of handwriting and receipts.
[ SYSTEM ACTIVATED: DATA ANALYSIS ]
[ WOULD YOU LIKE TO AUTO-SCAN THE LEDGER? ]
[ COST: 50 XP ]
I mentally clicked 'Yes'.
My eyes scanned the pages.
To Cassandra, it looked like I was reading intently, tracing the lines with my finger. In reality, the System was highlighting numbers in glowing red.
Page 42: Truffles imported from Alba - $5,000. Market price at that date: $2,200.
Page 56: Case of Chateau Margaux 1996 - $12,000. Inventory check: Missing.
Page 80: Special Cleaning Services- $15,000 monthly recurring.
The System processed the data in seconds, but I forced myself to sit there for forty-five minutes, turning pages, frowning, making notes on a scrap of paper.
I had to sell the illusion.
I had to look like I was working for it.
Cassandra watched me the whole time, sipping her tea, waiting for me to fail.
"Well?" she said when the clock chimed eleven.
"Too complicated for you?"
I closed the ledger.
"It's not the Chef," I said calmly.
Cassandra frowned.
"Impossible. The food costs are astronomical."
"The food costs are inflated, yes," I explained, sliding the book back to her.
"He's overcharging on truffles and caviar by about 40%. But that's petty cash.
It's a skim, maybe two thousand a month. He's just greedy."
"Then where is the money going?"
"The Cleaning Service," I said, tapping the entry on Page 80. "
Who is Azzurro Sanitation?"
"They handle the disposal of... medical waste," Cassandra said euphemistically. "And deep cleaning after incidents."
"They are billing you for fifteen thousand a month, flat rate," I said.
"But look at the dates. The bills are processed on the 1st of every month.
But on Page 80, there's a duplicate charge on the 15th labeled Emergency Surcharge for the last six months."
I pointed to the lines the System had flagged.
"There were no 'incidents' in February or March requiring deep cleaning.
Dante was in Italy.
The house was empty.
Yet, you paid thirty thousand dollars to Azzurro Sanitation in February."
Cassandra snatched the book, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the numbers.
"Azzurro..." she muttered.
"That company is run by Marco's brother-in-law."
"Then Marco's brother-in-law is stealing from you," I said. "Or he's kicking back to someone else."
Cassandra went silent.
Her face hardened, the lines around her mouth deepening.
It wasn't just about the money; it was the disrespect.
Someone was stealing from the Queen under her nose.
"You have a good eye for patterns," she said, her voice quiet but dangerous.
"I used to work in billing," I lied.
A boring, mundane lie to cover a supernatural ability.
"Numbers don't lie, Mrs. Moretti. People do."
Cassandra closed the book with a heavy thud.
"You are right. Numbers don't lie." She looked at me, and for the first time, the look wasn't entirely hostile.
It was calculating. "You may be useful after all. But do not think this makes us friends."
"I don't need friends," I said, standing up.
"I need allies."
By the time Dante returned that evening, the mood in the house had shifted.
The tension was still there, but it was different.
The staff moved with a new kind of urgency.
I was in the small sitting room off the main hall, reading a book on the history of the Chicago families that I found in the library, when the front doors banged open.
Dante stormed in, followed by Marco and a few other lieutenants.
He looked exhausted. His tie was undone, his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder.
He smelled of smoke and cheap coffee.
He stopped when he saw me.
"Serena."
"Welcome home," I said, marking my page. "Did you conquer the city?"
"I held it together," he grunted. He waved his hand, dismissing his men.
Marco lingered for a second, looking pale, before hurrying away toward the kitchen. I wondered if Cassandra had made the call about the Cleaning Service yet.
Dante walked over to me and collapsed onto the sofa next to mine.
He leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
"It's a mess," he said. "Valetti is denying everything.
The Commission is demanding proof.
And the Russians are moving into the South Side while we're distracted."
He opened his eyes and looked at me.
"And my mother called me."
My heart skipped a beat. "Oh?"
"She said you found a rat in the accounts."
"I found a discrepancy," I corrected.
"She did the rest."
Dante studied me, his gaze intense.
"She said you were competent.Coming from Cassandra, that is the equivalent of a canonization."
He reached out, taking my hand.
His thumb rubbed over my knuckles.
"Why, Serena?" he asked softly.
"Why help her? She treats you like dirt."
"Because this is my house now too, Dante," I said, squeezing his hand.
"And I don't like rats in my house."
He chuckled, a low sound that vibrated in the quiet room.
He pulled my hand up, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist.
"You continue to surprise me.
I thought I would come home to find you crying or packing your bags.
Instead, you're auditing my books."
"Someone has to keep you solvent," I teased.
"True." He sat up, his expression turning serious.
"But there is something else. Something I found today."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, plastic bag. Inside was a piece of paper.
"We swept the ballroom again.
We found this taped under the table where the sniper was aiming."
He handed it to me.
It was a playing card.
The King of Diamonds.
But the face of the King had been scratched out with a white marker, leaving only a blank, ghostly white silhouette.
[ SYSTEM ALERT: PLOT ITEM DETECTED ]
[ ITEM: CARD OF THE WHITE KING ]
[ CLUE: The White King is not a person.
It is an organization. ]
"A white king?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"It's a calling card," Dante said darkly.
"I've heard rumors of a new group operating out of Europe. Mercenaries.
High-end. They don't care about territory or drugs.
They just dismantle organizations for a fee."
He took the bag back.
"If Valetti hired them, he's more desperate than I thought.
And they won't stop at one failed attempt."
He looked at me, and I saw genuine fear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for me.
"I'm doubling the guard, Serena.
You aren't leaving this house.
Not for shopping, not for coffee, not for anything.
Until I burn this White King to the ground, you are a prisoner in this fortress."
"A gilded cage," I murmured.
"Better a cage than a coffin," he said firmly.
He stood up, pulling me with him.
"Come. I'm tired. And I want to sleep in a bed that smells like you."
As we walked toward the stairs, the System chimed one last time for the day.
[ DAY 2 COMPLETED ]
[ SURVIVAL BONUS: +200 XP ]
[ WARNING: THE WHITE KING HAS MARKED YOU AS A PRIMARY TARGET. ]
[ REASON: YOUR INTERFERENCE SAVED THE TARGET. ]
I squeezed Dante's hand tighter.
He thought he was locking me in to protect me.
He didn't realize he was locking me in with the very thing that wanted to kill him.
But that was fine.
I had six days left before the Heroine arrived.
And now I had a new goal.
I wasn't just going to survive the White King. I was going to bankrupt them all.
Author's Note:
Slowly but surely, Serena is tightening her grip! 🕸️
I loved writing the scene with Cassandra. There is nothing more satisfying than competence porn....Serena using her modern office skills (and a little cheat code) to outsmart the old guard.
We are moving slowly, establishing the threats.
The White King is a mystery... who do you think is funding them?
And Marco... oh Marco.
Do you think he knows about his brother-in-law.
Serena gets bored, and a bored Serena is a dangerous Serena.
Plus, we might see the first signs of the something else 📈
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