One Night Mistake… Now I Carry the Mafia Heir

Chapter 92: 92/Behind the Double Identity

Chapter 92

Alexander’s Point of View

I watched Stephanie’s features change suddenly and dramatically. Her panicked gaze froze on the screen glaring before her, and the blood vanished completely from her face until she became like a lifeless corpse. I felt a severe constriction, a heavy weight in my chest crushing my breath. In a firm, commanding tone, attempting to contain the situation, I said: "Stephanie... give me the phone right now."

She turned to me slowly, her beautiful eyes widening with a shocking trauma and a deep, bleeding wound that demolished all her defenses. In a trembling voice, weak and choked by the tears trapped in her throat, she said: "Valentina... Valentina just sent you a text message."

I braced myself on the bed, adjusting my posture as my massive frame drew closer to her. I tried to gently take her bare shoulder, intending to calm her terror and absorb her justified anger. "Stephanie, listen to me..." I said in a calm voice. "I will explain everything to you in detail. It isn’t what you think."

She shoved my hand away from her body with excessive violence and a strength that surprised me. In a sharp, elevated tone filled with rejection and utter disgust, she spat: "I don’t want to hear any explanation from your fucking lips, Alex! Don’t come near me!"

I shifted down from the comfortable pillow, my features hardening. I moved closer to her, my entire body taut like a wire, ready for the confrontation. "Stephanie, please... just listen to me for once. Don’t judge me before you understand the truth."

"I told you I don’t want to!" she screamed in my face, averting her gaze from me as tears burned her eyelids. "I don’t want to hear your lies!"

In a sudden, swift motion driven by raging fury and burning resentment, she hurled the smartphone at me onto the cotton mattress. Then, she spun her entire body around to the opposite side, facing away from me, and violently pulled the cover over her face and head, completely isolating herself from my presence. She was shifting and agitating beneath the thick blanket nervously, declaring with absolute clarity that she had locked her mind and heart, and would never hear a single word or excuse from me.

I let out a heavy sigh, the burdens of the entire world seemingly weighing down on my chest. I picked up the tossed phone, throwing it carelessly onto the side table. Then, I laid flat on my back, my broad hands interlocked behind my head, staring blankly and coldly at the dark ceiling of the room. Amidst the heavy silence of the surroundings and Stephanie’s trembling, agitated breaths beside me, the room faded from before my eyes. My memory, against my will, dragged me backward... into the depths of the past, specifically to exactly one year ago.

At that time, I was sitting in a highly luxurious, upscale Italian restaurant in downtown New York, alongside some close friends and partners in the dark business, securing our interests. Suddenly, I noticed someone I knew very well entering the establishment. It was Monchez, Carlos Mendoza’s right-hand man the cautious man who secures our massive drug shipments arriving through the port into New York.

But the violent shock that caused my entire body to stiffen in my seat, as if a current of ice had surged through my veins, was the young girl walking beside him with a coquettish stride... It was Valentina, Stephanie’s sister!

The moment I saw her face, I was truly shocked, holding my breath in bewilderment as I tried to process her presence in this place, and with this man specifically. They sat confidently at the table directly adjacent to ours. The moment Valentina turned around and her eyes fell upon me, her eyes widened in shocking realization, and she froze in her place without moving. She didn’t hesitate for more than a few seconds; instead, she rose immediately, her hurried steps bringing her toward us without any regard for those with me. She stopped right at our table and said in a loud voice and a familiar tone that drew the attention of everyone present: "Professor Thorne! Is that really you?"

Everyone turned at that exact moment to stare at me, broad question marks and shock plastered across their rough faces. The two words Valentina had uttered were neither logical nor familiar within our criminal circle. None of my men or allies knew that I used to teach at that wretched high school, or that I used the surname of my late mother, "Thorne," to conceal my true identity from the outside world.

Mike cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at her with mockery and derision before attempting to correct the situation: "You are entirely mistaken in the name, miss. You’ve got the wrong address... This is Mr. Alexander Volkov."

Damian let out his usual mocking, provocative laugh, leaning his broad back against his chair as he sneered: "And he is certainly not a professor anywhere, beautiful. You’ve mistaken his resemblance."

Valentina stared at me in disbelief, a shock shaking her entire being. Her body trembled secretly under the dark, sharp, death-carrying gazes of the men around me. "Professor Thorne..." she said, lost and seeking an explanation, "what are these men saying? What is happening here?"

Mike shook his head, mocking her ignorance, and muttered in a low voice: "Still stupid, calling him professor!"

Meanwhile, as tension saturated the air, Monchez noticed the suspicious situation. He advanced toward us with cautious, calculated steps, nodding his head with immense respect and fear.

Placing his hand over his chest, he said: "Oh... Mr. Alexander, so pleased to see you here tonight. My apologies if the young lady disturbed you."

I fixed my sharp, cold, lethal gaze upon him to put him in his place. Rising slightly in my seat, I spoke in a low, stern, and raspy voice that carried the threat of death: "Monchez... what are you doing here in this restaurant specifically, and with this girl in particular?"