Mafia by Blood (wlw)

30 - Plan

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Paul sneered sarcastically at Michelle as she sat down at the same café they had met at previously. The cold morning breeze made her tighten her coat, and she signaled a waiter to order a black coffee.

"I'll be straight with you," Michelle began. "I know your wife's pregnant, and that you are targeting Mac because you fear she will claim your throne." Paul's smug grin slowly faded, replaced by furrowed brows and a confused look. How the hell did she know? He was about to start planning how to get rid of the young girl.

"Go on," he prompted.

"Mac has no interest in being capo, anywhere. She is no threat, and therefore I'd like to propose a new truce between us," Michelle stated boldly. Silence hung in the air for a moment before Paul snorted, shaking his head.

"Here's your coffee, ma'am," the waiter interrupted, placing the cup in front of Michelle.

"You understand that I don't believe that for a second, right?" Paul spat. "You've managed something no one else ever has—creating an heir to both of us. Of course she is a threat!" Michelle wrinkled her nose and wiped away some of his spit that had landed on her face.

Taking a sip of her hot coffee, she considered how to persuade him. She resisted the temptation to signal William, who was poised on the roof of the neighboring building, to take a shot at Paul's head. She knew she'd get a bullet too if she did.

"Any suggestions for a truce that benefits us both, then?" Michelle cocked an eyebrow, taking another sip of her coffee. Paul brushed his hand through his blonde hair, his gaze momentarily averted.

"Betroth her to my unborn son."

"What the hell... I will not betroth her to a boy 18 years younger than her, or to anyone for that matter. It's the 21st century," Michelle crossed her arms over her chest, disgusted by the thought.

"Well then. I don't trust you after you broke our last truce. And you cannot guarantee that in 5 or 10 years Mackenzie won't change her mind," he said, folding his arms.

"We planned that theft for months; it wasn't about breaking any truce. And yes, I can guarantee it—she's too weak for that. No one would support her claim," Michelle countered.

"No matter how bad a leader is, if they have a claim, people will follow. Blood is more important than anything, and you know it," Paul retorted, growing annoyed. He had made up his mind—his niece had to die.

"We're done here," he declared, standing up. He fixed his jacket and left a few dollars on the table for his untouched drink.

"Great," Michelle muttered to herself. "Now I have to murder an unborn child too."

He looked just as she remembered, except for the light bruises covering his body. His hair was slightly shorter, but otherwise, George looked the same as the last time Madison had seen him. She had thought this man was her father for two decades, only to find out her real father was murdered before she could meet him.

"Maddie?" George's voice was low as he sat up in the bed he had spent far too much time in. Sabrina, the nurse, was reading over his chart, preparing to discharge him.

"Hi," Madison said, stepping into the room. She had been lurking in the doorway for the past few days, wanting to meet him but also wanting to stay away as her feelings constantly changed.

"You look exactly like your mother..." he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for the way things turned out. Had I known who Michelle was at the time of the divorce, I would've kept you, even though you weren't mine."