The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Slapped The Waitress — What He Did Next Shocked The Restaurant
The Senator’s Revenge
Anna got out of the car, her head spinning. She watched the SUV drive away, disappearing into the rainy night.
She touched her cheek where Tiffany had slapped her, then touched the locket at her throat. Her life as a nobody was over.
The next morning, Anna woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly. She groggily reached for it and gasped.
She had fifty missed calls, text messages from numbers she didn’t know, and when she opened her social media, her face was everywhere. “Mafia Kingpin Dumps Senator’s Daughter for Mystery Waitress.”
“The Slap Heard Around New York.” Someone had recorded the incident.
The video had millions of views. It showed Tiffany slapping her and then Dante’s cold dismantling speech.
The internet was divided, half calling Dante a hero, half calling Anna a home-wrecker. A loud pounding on her apartment door made her jump.
“Anastasia Sterling! NYPD, open up!”
Anna’s heart stopped. NYPD?
She scrambled out of bed, throwing on a robe. She peered through the peephole.
Two uniformed officers and a man in a cheap suit were standing there. She opened the door a crack.
“Yes?”
“Anastasia Sterling?” The man in the suit asked.
He held up a badge.
“Detective Miller. We have a warrant to search these premises.”
“Search for what?”
“Grand larceny.” Detective Miller said, shoving the door open.
“Miss Tiffany Blair claims you stole a diamond bracelet from her wrist during the altercation last night.”
“What? That’s a lie!” Anna cried, backing away as the officers pushed past her into her small living room.
“I didn’t steal anything. She hit me!”
“We’ll see about that.” Miller sneered.
He looked around the apartment with disdain.
“Check the bedroom.”
They began tearing her apartment apart, pulling books off shelves, dumping drawers onto the floor. Anna stood in the corner, shaking.
She knew what this was. This was the senator’s response.
They were going to plant something. They were going to frame her.
“Look at this!” One of the officers called out from the bedroom.
He emerged holding a glittering diamond bracelet. Anna’s blood ran cold.
“I have never seen that in my life.”
“Save it for the judge, sweetie.” Detective Miller said, pulling out handcuffs.
“You’re under arrest.”
He grabbed her arm, spinning her around. The metal cuffs clicked tight against her wrists.
“Please, I didn’t do it!” Anna begged.
“Let me call someone!”
“You can make your call from the station.”
They dragged her out of the apartment, down the stairs, and onto the street. Neighbors were watching from their windows.
Anna felt tears of shame burning her eyes. They shoved her into the back of a squad car.
As the car pulled away, Anna saw a black sedan parked across the street. The window rolled down just an inch, revealing a pair of eyes watching her.
But it wasn’t Dante. It was a man with a scar running down his cheek—one of Senator Blair’s fixers.
The Interrogation
At the precinct, they didn’t put her in a holding cell. They put her in an interrogation room.
Detective Miller sat across from her, a file folder on the table.
“Here is how this works, Anastasia.” Miller said, leaning in.
“The senator is a forgiving man. He doesn’t want to ruin a young girl’s life. He is willing to drop the charges if…”
“If what?” Anna asked, her voice raspy.
“If you sign a statement.” Miller slid a piece of paper toward her.
“Admitting that you provoked Miss Blair, that you were drunk on the job, and that Dante Vance coerced you into making a scene to embarrass the senator.”
Anna read the paper. It was a complete fabrication.
It would clear Tiffany’s name, destroy Anna’s reputation, and give the senator ammunition to go after Dante.
“And if I don’t sign?”
“Then you go to Rikers for grand larceny. Five to ten years. And we’ll look into your mother’s medical bills. I hear there are some irregularities with her insurance. It would be a shame if she lost coverage.”
Anna felt sick. They were threatening her mother.
She picked up the pen. Her hand trembled.
She had no choice. Dante was powerful, but this was the police.
This was the government. The door to the interrogation room slammed open.
Every head turned. Standing in the doorway was not Dante Vance.
It was a woman in a sharp navy-blue pantsuit holding a briefcase. She had glasses perched on her nose and an air of absolute authority.
Behind her stood two very large men in suits, and behind them was the police captain, looking terrified.
“Who the hell are you?” Detective Miller barked, standing up.
“I’m Elellanena Vance,” the woman said, adjusting her glasses, “Dante’s sister and his chief legal counsel.”
She walked into the room and snatched the paper from under Anna’s pen. She read it once, scoffed, and tore it in half.
“You can’t do that!” Miller shouted.
“I just did,” Elellanena said calmly.
She turned to the captain.
“Captain, my client is being held without due process on charges based on a planted piece of evidence. I have security footage from the restaurant showing Miss Blair wearing the bracelet after she left the building. I also have timestamped photos of her wearing it at a club two hours later.”
She slammed a tablet onto the table. On the screen was a photo of Tiffany dancing at a club, the diamond bracelet clearly visible on her wrist.
The color drained from Detective Miller’s face.
“Furthermore,” Elellanena continued, her voice like a whip, “I have filed a formal complaint with Internal Affairs regarding Detective Miller’s financial records. It seems he received a generous wire transfer this morning from a shell company linked to Senator Blair’s campaign fund.”
The room went silent.
“Uncuff her.” The captain ordered, his voice shaking.
Now Miller fumbled for his keys and unlocked the cuffs. Anna rubbed her sore wrists, looking up at Elellanena in amazement.
“Come, Anastasia.” Elellanena said, offering a hand.
“Dante is waiting, and he is very unhappy.”
A Tower of Glass and Steel
The ride to Vance Tower was silent, but the air inside the limousine was thick enough to choke on. Anna sat next to Elellanena, her hands still rubbing the red marks on her wrists where the handcuffs had bitten into her skin.
She looked out the tinted window as the car approached a gleaming spire of black glass that pierced the Manhattan skyline. Vance Tower.
It looked less like a corporate headquarters and more like a fortress. They bypassed the lobby, taking a private elevator that ascended sixty floors in seconds.
When the doors opened, Anna stepped into a penthouse that spanned the entire top floor. It was a masterpiece of modern architecture: floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city, dark mahogany floors, and art that belonged in museums.
Dante was standing by the fireplace, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. He had shed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms corded with muscle and a tattoo of a compass on his right wrist—matching the one on Anna’s locket.
He didn’t turn around when they entered.
“Did you get her out?” His voice rumbled, low and dangerous.
“With time to spare,” Elellanena said, placing her briefcase on a glass table.
“But Senator Blair is playing dirty, Dante. He didn’t just try to frame her; he froze the construction accounts for the Hudson project twenty minutes ago. He’s claiming mafia ties to the funding.”
Dante turned then, his eyes burning with a cold fire. He looked at Anna, his gaze softening momentarily as he saw her bruised wrists.
“I’m sorry,” Dante said to Anna.
“I underestimated how quickly he would strike.”
“He sent the police,” Anna said, her voice trembling but gaining strength.
“He tried to ruin my life just because his daughter was embarrassed.”
“He tried to ruin your life because you are now associated with me,” Dante corrected.
“And in his eyes, that makes you a pawn he can crush to hurt me.”
Dante walked over to the window, looking down at the city that looked like a circuit board from this height.
“The senator thinks he can squeeze me. He thinks that by attacking my reputation and my finances, he can force me back to Tiffany. He believes I need his political cover to operate.”
“Do you?” Anna asked boldly.
Dante laughed, a dark, humorless sound.
“I own half the judges in this state, Anastasia. I don’t need his cover. But I do need to neutralize him without turning him into a martyr. If I kill him, he becomes a hero. If I expose him clumsily, he spins it.”
He turned to face her fully.
“I need to destroy his credibility. I need to make him look like a desperate, vindictive man attacking a happy couple.”
Anna frowned.
“What happy couple?”
Dante walked toward her, stopping just inches away. The scent of sandalwood and expensive whiskey filled her senses.
“Us.”
Anna blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“The press is already calling you the mystery woman,” Dante said.
“If we hide, you look like a mistress and I look like a scoundrel. But if we embrace it, if we show the world that I left Tiffany not because of a spill, but because I found true love…”
“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” Anna asked, shocked.
“Not girlfriend.” Dante said, his eyes locking onto hers.
“My fiancée.”
