Arrogant Mafia Boss Challenged the Waitress Into a Fight — Unaware She’s a Ruthless Boxer

The assassination attempt changed everything. Vincent no longer pretended I was just an employee; he moved me out of my cramped apartment in Queens and into a secure, heavily fortified guesthouse on his estate in Westchester, placing guards around the perimeter while we dug deeper into the digital ledger.

It was midnight in the subterranean archives beneath Vincent's estate. Rows of steel servers hummed softly, casting a blue glow over the walls.

I sat at a stainless-steel desk, typing rapidly into an isolated terminal using the master decryption key Vincent had retrieved from his father's personal safe.

Vincent stood behind me, leaning over my shoulder, watching the screen scroll through thousands of encrypted financial transactions dating back ten years.

"Right here," I whispered, pointing to a highlighted folder labeled Project Ironclad.

I clicked it open. Inside were scanned PDF documents, wire transfer confirmations, and internal memos.

My breath caught in my throat.

There was my father's name—Liam Gallagher—listed as the lead security auditor for Pier 14. And beside it was a memo signed by Vincent's uncle, Salvatore Kelletti, authorizing a payout to a local municipal inspector to cover up an "unscheduled structural collapse" caused by intentionally overloaded cargo containers carrying illegal contraband.

My father hadn't just been asking questions; he had compiled a full digital dossier and threatened to hand it over to federal prosecutors unless the Kelletti family shut down the illegal trafficking routes running through his dock.

And Salvatore Kelletti had ordered him killed.

The silence in the server room became suffocating. I slowly leaned back in my chair, staring at the monitor, feeling a cold, hollow numbness spread through my chest. The man whose family employed me—the man I had begun to trust, the man whose life I had saved—belonged to the very bloodline that had murdered my father.

"Cassidy..." Vincent’s voice was barely a whisper. He reached out, his hand hovering near my shoulder before dropping back to his side. "I didn't know."

"Your uncle still runs the western syndicate, Vincent," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage as I turned to face him. "Your family built an empire on blood, and my father was just collateral damage to your balance sheet."

"My uncle is eighty years old, and he hasn't held executive power in this company since I took over three years ago," Vincent said, stepping closer, his gray eyes burning with intensity. "If Salvatore ordered that hit, he did it behind my father's back. But that doesn't matter now. What matters is what we do with this file."

"We take it to the FBI," I said, standing up to face him, my fists clenched. "We burn the whole thing to the ground."

Before Vincent could answer, the overhead lights in the server room flickered and died.

The emergency red backup lights kicked on, bathing the room in a bloody crimson hue. At the same moment, the automated security system chimed loudly from the terminal: External perimeter breach. Sector Four. Multiple inbound hostiles.