Mafia Lord's Mute Sweetheart

Chapter 10: Chapter 10 Little D

Rafael loved Eva so much. He had met her when he went to collect a debt from a worthless man, a lowlife gambler who owed the Ricci family more money than he could earn in ten lifetimes.

When Rafael arrived at the man’s apartment, he found him drunk and raging, trying to sell his own daughter to cover his debts. The girl was seventeen. Skinny, bruised, terrified. She had been locked in a closet for three days without food, without water, without light. Rafael had killed the man on the spot, two bullets to the chest, one to the head, no hesitation, no regret.

Then he had wrapped the girl in his jacket and carried her out of that hellhole. He brought her home, gave her food, gave her clothes, gave her a room in his penthouse, gave her safety for the first time in her life. Her name was Eva. Soon, they both fell in love. It was inevitable, really.

He had spent so much time with her, watching her heal, watching her smile for the first time, watching her learn to trust again. He found she was different from other girls. She didn’t want his money or his status or his family name. She just wanted him, the man who had saved her, the man who held her when she woke up screaming from nightmares about that closet.

But Eva didn’t want to ruin the brotherly bond between Alessio and Rafael.

She saw how close they were, how Alessio had raised Rafael and Mateo after their parents died, and how Rafael would die for Alessio without blinking.

She was terrified of coming between them. She always declined invitations to family dinners. She hid in her room whenever Alessio was present. She didn’t want to be the reason the Ricci brothers fought.

Rafael had tried to explain that Alessio wasn’t cruel, Alessio was just Alessio: cold, calculating, protective in ways that looked like indifference. But Eva was still scared, and Rafael couldn’t blame her.

The three brothers had each other. That was all they had in this cruel world. Their parents died. Their sister had been missing for six years, vanished from a park in broad daylight while a nanny looked away for one minute.

The only family they had left was each other. Alessio was cold, emotionless, the strategist, the brain, the one who saw ten steps ahead while everyone else was still figuring out where to put their feet. He felt nothing, or so he told himself. Rafael knew better. Alessio felt everything. He just buried it so deep that even he couldn’t find it anymore.

Rafael was the middle brother, strong in fighting, serious and hot-tempered.

His temper was quick, his fists were faster, and his loyalty was unbreakable. He was the muscle, the enforcer, the one who broke down doors and shattered kneecaps and asked questions later.

And the youngest brother, Mateo, was only eighteen, still in school. He was the opposite of them, very naughty, always joking, always causing trouble. He snuck out of the house at night to go to parties, dyed his hair blue once just to annoy Alessio, talked back to teachers and flirted with girls and lived like tomorrow would never come.

Mateo was the only one who could make Alessio’s emotionless mask crack. The only one who could make him almost smile. The only one who could hug him without being pushed away.

Rafael looked at Alessio now, sitting on the couch in his hospital gown, his shoulder bandaged, his abdomen wrapped, the bullet wounds still healing.

Alessio’s voice was deep. "I’m not trying to make you weak. I’m trying to keep you alive. Eva is not the problem. What you feel for her is not the problem. The problem is that our enemies will use her to get to you. And you will let them. Because you love her."

Rafael’s expression softened. "I know, brother. I will handle everything. You don’t have to worry about it."

Alessio was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Alright."

Rafael smiled. "Thank you, big bro." He stood up from the couch, stretching his tattooed arms above his head, his back cracking loudly in the quiet room.

Rafael changed the subject. "Let’s not talk about her. Have you found the owner of the voice?"

Alessio’s expression flickered with something dark and dangerous, but he quickly adjusted himself. Rafael noticed anyway.

"No," Alessio said.

Six years ago, their sister Elena Ricci had disappeared. Twelve years old. Taken from a park in broad daylight while her nanny bought ice cream from a cart. No witnesses. No ransom call. No body. Nothing. Alessio had torn the city apart looking for her. He had killed men who knew nothing, tortured men who knew less, burned down buildings that held only lies. Nothing worked. Elena was simply gone.

A week ago, Alessio received a file. It was a voice recording. A woman’s voice, reading a passage from a children’s book, the same book Alessio used to read to Elena before bed when she was small. The voice was calm, warm, melodic. And it sounded exactly like Elena would sound if she had grown up.

The same cadence, the same breathy pause before certain words, the same way she pronounced her R’s, soft and rolling. Alessio had played it once. Then he had played it again. Then he had locked himself in his study for six hours and played it on repeat until his hands stopped shaking.

The file came with a message: We have her. Come alone or she dies.

He knew it was a trap. Of course he knew. He was Alessio Ricci. He had survived twenty-seven assassination attempts, three coups, and one literal building collapsing on him. He knew traps like most people knew their own reflections. But what if it wasn’t a trap? What if Elena was out there, held captive for years and waiting for him, needing him? What kind of brother would he be if he didn’t even check?

So he went alone, unarmed, into an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

He asked the one who messaged him, "Where is she?"

And then the shooting started. Three gunmen emerged from the shadows. Alessio took two bullets, shoulder and abdomen, before he dropped them all. But there were more. He ran, bleeding, stumbling, crashing through a window and falling two stories into a pile of garbage that saved his life. His men found him an hour later, unconscious, pale, barely breathing.

That was two days ago. He had almost died for a recording.

And yesterday he found the truth. The voice was not Elena. It was a dubbing artist, a woman who mimicked voices for a living. It was a genuine coincidence that her voice matched his sister’s, and his rivals had found this old recording and used it against him. Otherwise, they didn’t have any ability to lure him.

The recording was four years old. The dubbing artist known as "Little D" had recorded those lines for a children’s audiobook. She had no idea that her voice sounded like a missing girl in one of her projects because she used different voices in all her different projects. She had no idea that years later, enemies of the Ricci family would dig up that recording, pair it with a threatening message and use it as bait.

Alessio had ordered his men to track the recording to a small production studio in the city. The owner, a fat man in a cheap suit, had wet himself when Alessio’s men showed up. He confessed everything. A freelance voice artist named "Little D" had contacted him through an encrypted email four years ago. She had done work for him before, commercials, audiobooks, that documentary about coastal villages. She was talented, reliable, and cheap.

But here was the problem. The owner hadn’t heard from her in four years. After that last job, she vanished. No goodbye, no forwarding address, no explanation. The email bounced back. The phone number was disconnected. It was like she had never existed. And somehow, his rival had found this recording from four years ago and used it on him.

The question burned in Alessio’s mind: was it a coincidence that this dubbing artist’s voice matched Elena’s? Or was it a conspiracy? Had someone planned this years in advance, planting a voice that would later become a weapon?

Alessio didn’t believe in coincidences.

His voice was quiet, cold, absolute. "I want her found. I don’t care what it costs."

Rafael nodded. "I’m trying, big bro. I’m trying."

Alessio picked up the knight again, turning it over in his elegant fingers. "Find her as quickly as possible."

Rafael’s voice was soft. "You should focus on healing. The voice can wait."

Alessio didn’t say anything.