Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask (by Silver Spoon) novel Chapter 490

Chapter 490: Chapter 86 The Patriarch Arrives

Lila’s POV

Life had finally found its rhythm in the carefully orchestrated chaos of our intertwined worlds. Yesterday, Daniel had returned from the precinct with the finalized divorce papers—the legal chains binding him to his politically arranged marriage were finally severed. Sasha had been reduced to nothing more than an unpleasant shadow from his past, her schemes crumbling under the weight of exposed corruption.

Today found Daniel pulling weekend duty, leaving me alone in the fortified sanctuary of our penthouse. I had planned to use the solitude productively, diving into case studies for my upcoming law exams. The afternoon quiet was broken when the building’s head of security called up—someone had arrived requesting access, someone I hadn’t expected but couldn’t quite bring myself to refuse entry. After granting permission and sending Daniel a brief message about our unexpected visitor, I quickly changed into something more appropriate for receiving the patriarch of one of New York’s most influential crime families.

The man who stood at our threshold commanded the same imposing presence as his son. Despite his distinguished silver hair, the resemblance between father and son was unmistakable—the same piercing eyes, the same aura of absolute authority that came from decades of wielding power in the shadows. Elias Martinez carried himself with the refined menace of old-world aristocracy, his polite smile masking layers of calculation as he stepped into our apartment, his practiced gaze cataloging every detail of our living space.

"Lila, I presume?" He extended a manicured hand in formal greeting, his voice carrying the smooth cadence of a man accustomed to boardroom negotiations and backroom deals.

"Yes, sir. The pleasure is mine," I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady as I accepted his handshake. His smile deepened slightly, those calculating eyes assessing me with the thoroughness of a man evaluating a potential business partner or threat.

"Please, make yourself at home. May I offer you something to drink?" I gestured toward our living room, acutely aware that I was being scrutinized by someone who had built an empire on reading people’s weaknesses.

"Espresso, if you have it," he answered with casual authority, settling into our leather armchair as if he owned it.

"Of course. I’ll just be a moment," I excused myself to the kitchen, grateful for the brief respite.

While preparing the coffee, my thoughts churned around the formidable figure occupying our living room. He possessed an undeniable charm beneath that veneer of polished menace—nothing like the tyrannical puppet master Daniel had described. Based on my boyfriend’s recent accounts of his controlling, manipulative father, I had expected someone far more overtly threatening. I returned with the service, acutely conscious of his unwavering attention as I poured, receiving a gracious nod of acknowledgment.

"Lila, I assume Daniel is working today?" he inquired, though something in his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

"Yes, sir. But I’ve informed him you’re here. I’m certain he’ll come home as soon as possible," I replied, assuming his visit was intended for his son.

"Thank you, my dear. But you misunderstand—I didn’t come to see Daniel. I came specifically to speak with you." His directness left me momentarily speechless. "I believe we need to have a conversation. Tell me, Lila, how do you feel about my son’s career choice? Doesn’t the constant danger, the weekend shifts, the unpredictable hours concern you?"

"Sir, I’d be lying if I claimed I don’t worry about the risks he faces daily. But regarding his schedule—that’s his profession, and I respect his commitment to it. As long as Daniel finds meaning in what he does, I support him completely."

I knew this wasn’t the response he was hoping for, but I refused to compromise my principles to appease him.

"I assume you understand the nature of our family enterprises," he continued, studying me with the intensity of a chess master planning his next move.

"Only in general terms. Honestly, it’s not my business, and I have no particular interest in those matters."

"And you’re unconcerned that I intend to disinherit Daniel for his refusal to return to the family operations?" His bluntness was chilling—he posed these loaded questions with a calm that sent ice through my veins.

He finished his espresso and carefully placed the cup back on its saucer.

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