Chapter 1: Lời cầu xin cuối cùng của người mẹ

Part 1

💅**My Mother Demanded $3,000 For Video Games Right After I Gave Birth—But It Was Actually To Pay Off The Mafia.**

I had just given birth to my daughter after fourteen agonizing hours in a military hospital.

Minutes later, my phone vibrated with a message from my mother. She didn’t ask a single word about my newborn granddaughter or my health.

Instead, she demanded I send $3,000 immediately, an “emergency” fund to buy video game consoles for my sister’s kids, or face “major consequences.”

I looked at the sleeping baby in my arms. For the first time in ten years of being drained financially, I decided not to reply.

A week later, just as she’d threatened, my mother, Carol Kincaid, stormed into my apartment. She wasn’t there to visit, but to scream that I had abandoned the family and was responsible for their ‘situation.’

Carol Kincaid burst through my front door, her face a mask of furious indignation. My daughter, barely a week old, stirred in her bassinet in the living room.

“How dare you, Evelyn!” she shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls. “After everything I’ve done for you, you ignore your own family’s crisis?”

I clutched the baby monitor, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Crisis? What crisis, Mom? You wanted three thousand dollars for video games.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Video games? Is that what you think this is about? Melanie’s in deep, Evie! The collectors are breathing down our necks, and you just sit here playing house!”

My blood ran cold. *Collectors?*

“Collectors for what, Mom? Melanie’s gambling debts?” I pushed, a knot tightening in my stomach.

Carol threw her hands up, pacing the small living room like a caged animal. “It’s more than that! You think Isabella Giannini waits for anyone? They’re coming for us! And it’s all your fault for being so selfish, not answering my texts when I needed you most!”

Isabella Giannini. The name alone was enough to make the hairs on my arms stand up. This wasn’t about frivolous purchases for Melanie’s children, or even my sister’s usual irresponsible spending. My mother’s words confirmed a terrifying truth: the $3,000 wasn’t for consoles at all. It was a desperate, last-minute payment for Melanie’s debt to a local organized crime family, the Giannini Syndicate.

And now, because I hadn’t paid, their dangerous collector was coming. What would happen when he arrived at my door?

Part 2

Carol Kincaid’s face twisted with exasperation.

“Oh, Evelyn, don’t be so dramatic.”

She waved a dismissive hand.

“It’s just a few small debts, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

My hands tightened on the monitor.

“Small debts that involve Isabella Giannini? That doesn’t sound small to me, Mom.”

“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” she snapped.

Her voice rose again.

“If you had just sent the money when I asked, none of this would be happening.”

“You betrayed your own family!”

She paced, muttering about how I always thought I was better than everyone.

My mind raced, ignoring her tirade.

Isabella Giannini didn’t get involved in “small debts.”

Later that night, with my baby finally asleep, I pulled out my old military laptop.

It was locked down with layers of encryption, a relic from my intelligence days.

My specialized training in advanced data analysis and pattern recognition had been a critical skill then.

Now, it was my only hope to understand what Melanie had really gotten herself into.

I started by looking for any public records or rumors connected to the Giannini Syndicate and cryptocurrency.

It was a long shot, but I knew how to sift through noise.

Hours blurred into the night as I cross-referenced fragmented news reports, leaked forum posts, and suspicious shell company filings.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, connecting dots that most people would never see.

The pieces started to form a horrifying picture.

Melanie wasn’t just gambling away her allowance.

She had been dabbling in a small-time cryptocurrency scam, a dubious operation promoted by the Giannini Syndicate itself.

It wasn’t a big operation, more like a funnel for smaller, more easily manipulated investors.

But Melanie, with her usual lack of foresight, had been entrusted with managing some of the funds.

Her poor execution and impulsive decisions, combined with a sudden market downturn, had cratered the scheme.

The ‘few small debts’ Carol mentioned were actually hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Melanie’s missteps had caused the syndicate to lose a substantial chunk of their laundered money.

And Carol, instead of confronting Melanie or me with the truth, had spent years trying to cover it up, throwing every spare penny she had at it.

She had been gaslighting me, always blaming Melanie’s “irresponsibility” for needing cash.

She had convinced me it was just to keep Melanie out of trouble, not that Melanie was an active participant in their criminal enterprise.

It wasn’t about a simple gambling addiction anymore.

This wasn’t just Melanie being careless with her own money.

This was Melanie actively working for the Giannini Syndicate, even if at a low level.

And Carol had been complicit, shielding her while allowing the debt to balloon, all while pointing fingers at me.

My heart pounded, a cold dread spreading through my chest.

I thought I was just dealing with a manipulative mother and an irresponsible sister.

But I had stumbled into the hidden, dangerous world of the Giannini Syndicate.

And now, because of Melanie’s deep entanglement and Carol’s desperate cover-up, I was in their crosshairs too.

I was not just on the hook for a relative’s minor debt; I was now part of a much larger, darker game.