My Mob Boss Customer Was Poisoned — What I Did Next Put A Bounty On My Head

Part 1

Blood stained the pristine marble floors of the restaurant, pooling around the most feared man in the city.

Everyone ran except for me.

I didn’t see a ruthless mob boss gasping for his last breath.

I just saw a man dying.

And that choice changed everything.

The heavy waistband of my black uniform skirt dug painfully into my soft stomach.

It was a persistent reminder of a fourteen hour shift that simply refused to end.

At Il Foro Dinapoli, I was well aware of how I was perceived in this gilded high society world.

To the billionaires, politicians, and notorious underworld figures who frequented the dimly lit establishment, I was practically invisible.

I was just the heavy-footed girl who kept their water glasses full.

I was a silent fixture fading into the opulent velvet wallpaper.

But tonight, invisibility was completely impossible.

David Moretti had commandeered the main dining room.

He was a man carved from ice and violence.

He was the undisputed head of the Moretti crime syndicate.

Clad in a custom three-piece charcoal suit that screamed of European tailoring, David possessed a sharp, predatory jawline.

His eyes were as flat and black as a starless night.

He was flanked by his underboss, a slick, smiling man named Tony Russo.

A dozen heavily armed enforcers stood like gargoyles in the shadows around them.

I nervously wiped my sweaty palms on my apron as I carried a silver tray bearing a vintage bottle of Barolo wine to David’s table.

I absolutely hated serving him.

The sheer gravity of his imposing presence made the air in the room feel thin and suffocating.

Tony ordered me to pour, his voice slick with an unsettling, dangerous charm.

My hands trembled slightly as I tipped the heavy bottle.

The dark red liquid cascaded perfectly into David’s crystal glass.

David didn’t even glance at me.

I stepped back quickly, retreating to the safety of the mahogany bar.

I leaned my heavy frame against the cool counter as I watched them from a safe distance.

David raised the glass to his lips, acknowledging a toast from Tony.

He swallowed the dark wine.

Three seconds later, the expensive crystal glass shattered violently against the marble floor.

David let out a ragged, guttural gasp.

His large hands flew frantically to his throat.

The imposing mob boss crashed forward onto the table.

He overturned plates of truffle risotto and sent expensive silverware clattering everywhere.

His chair tipped backward, and he hit the floor with a sickening thud.

Chaos erupted instantly in the dining room.

One of the loyal guards shouted for his boss, immediately reaching for his concealed weapon.

But before anyone could accurately assess the situation, the front windows of the restaurant completely exploded.

A massive hail storm of bullets tore through the elegant dining room.

Deafening gunfire filled the air, mixing with the terrified screams of the few remaining staff members.

I hit the floor hard behind the solid oak bar.

I curled my large body into the absolute tightest ball I could possibly manage.

I covered my ears, sobbing silently as sharp shards of glass and splintered wood rained down violently on my back.

Peeking fearfully through the narrow gap beneath the bar stools, I saw the horrifying truth of this sudden ambush.

Tony, the smiling underboss, had not drawn his weapon at all.

Instead, he was stepping backward, casually retreating toward the kitchen exit.

Meanwhile, the loyal guards were systematically gunned down by unseen assailants firing from the street outside.

It was a calculated, ruthless coup.

The heavy gunfire abruptly ceased, leaving behind a ringing, eerie silence.

The only sounds remaining were the wet, choking gasps coming from the center of the devastated room.

I peered out cautiously from my hiding spot.

The hitmen hadn’t entered the building yet.

They were likely waiting for the lethal poison to finish the job before sweeping the area.

David Moretti was convulsing violently on the floor.

His face was turning a terrifying shade of violet.

Thick veins bulged noticeably against his muscular neck.

White foam bubbled rapidly at the corners of his mouth.

Every single survival instinct inside me screamed to run out the back door and vanish into the night.

I owed this ruthless criminal absolutely nothing.

He was a dangerous monster who ran the city’s dark underworld with an iron fist.

But as I watched him seize, his dark eyes locked onto mine through the terrible wreckage.

Something completely broke inside my chest.

I didn’t see a terrifying mob boss anymore.

I just saw a human being drowning in agonizing pain.

I frantically recalled a high school chemistry class and the myriad of true crime documentaries I binge-watched alone in my apartment.

I realized he needed charcoal to absorb the deadly toxins.

Ignoring the screaming protests of my own terrified mind, I scrambled on my hands and knees.

My thick thighs scraped painfully against the shattered glass scattered across the floor.

I ignored the sharp sting and hauled myself into the open kitchen.

The massive brick pizza oven was still radiating an intense, blistering heat.

Grabbing a heavy iron scraper, I yanked out a pile of glowing blackened wood chunks.

I threw them onto a metal prep table.

Snatching a heavy marble pestle, I brutally pulverized the burnt wood into a gritty black powder.

I dumped the thick powder into a large metal pitcher of distilled water.

I rushed back out to the dining room, the heavy pitcher sloshing in my trembling hands.

David was barely moving now.

I dropped heavily to my knees beside him on the ruined floor.

I grabbed him fiercely by his thick tailored lapels and hauled his heavy upper body off the ground.

I pried his rigid jaw open with my shaking fingers and commanded him to drink.

I forced the sludgy black liquid down his throat, using my body weight to keep his head tilted back.

He gagged and swallowed convulsively before violently vomiting the poisoned wine onto the floor.

A heavy thud from the front doors made my blood run completely cold.

Heavy boots crunched loudly on the broken glass.

The ruthless hitmen were finally coming inside to confirm the kill.

I grabbed David by the collar of his ruined suit jacket, straining with absolutely everything I had.

My muscles screamed in protest as I dragged his dead weight toward the kitchen.

I managed to roll him onto a heavy-duty utility cart and pushed it blindly out the back door into the freezing rain.

The dark alleyway was slick with rotting garbage.

I pushed the heavy utility cart desperately over the cracked pavement toward my beat-up car.

I shoved his massive frame into the passenger seat and collapsed behind the steering wheel.

I slammed my foot on the gas, tearing out of the alleyway with a dying mafia boss in my passenger seat, just as a pair of black SUVs pulled up to the restaurant doors.