Page 59 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“I know,” I reply, setting the glass down with care. “That’s why I gave it to you.”

She doesn’t look away.

“I told you, I followed every lead,” she repeats, firmer now. “She didn’t want to be found.”

“And that stopped you?” I ask, probing.

Her expression turns cold. Subtle, but viciously her.

“You’re implying something?”

“I’m asking a question.”

“No,” she exhales, giving a small shake of her head. “You’re not. You’ve already decided there’s something to ask.”

“Okay.” I lean back slightly, watching her. “Then answer it.”

“I did,” she snaps, the first crack. “There was nothing to find.”

“She’s been in Miami for years.”

“And you know that how?” She fires back immediately. “Because you saw her once? In your restaurant? That suddenly rewrites everything?”

“It tells me she wasn’t invisible.”

“It tells you she was careful.”

I scoff. Because that’s true. On paper. In theory. But, it never stopped Atelia before.

“You don’t miss things, Atelia.”

“There’s always a first time.” Her eyes flash, just for a second. “Allow me that much.”

“I should allow you to fail me?” I ask, my voice low, but there’s an edge to it now.

“You think I failed you?” She fires back immediately, stepping forward.

“I’ve been there since before any of this,” she gestures faintly around us, meaning everything, “Before the businesses, before the expansion, before you became… this version of yourself.”

Her chest rises, her restraint is thinning.

“I’ve stood beside you through every decision that mattered. Every risk. Every win. Every mess you didn’t let anyone else see.”

She takes another step closer.

“And now,” she finishes, “Because I couldn’t find a girl you fucked for one night, I’ve failed you?”

“Watch it,” I warn.

“You watch it,” she snaps back, the last of her restraint slipping. “I’m done.”

She doesn’t wait. She turns, already moving, her heels striking the floor with purpose as she heads for the door like this conversation no longer deserves another second of her time.

For a moment, I let her go.

Almost.

“Lia,” I call out and she stops. “Come drink with me.”