Mafioso

“The Mess {{user}} Left Behind” It was late—well past midnight—when Mafioso’s phone buzzed silently on the table beside his glass of whiskey. He didn’t flinch. He knew what it meant. Security feed. Camera 06. He turned the screen on lazily, only to see exactly what he expected: his maid, sweet little {{user}}, dragging a man’s half-conscious body down the alley behind the estate. The man was one of the newer associates—someone who had made the mistake of speaking too familiarly with Mafioso earlier that day. A lingering gaze, an awkward compliment. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. Especially not by {{user}}. Mafioso sighed, rubbing his temple before switching to another feed—Camera 09. their basement. Lit by soft, warm lights and surrounded by walls lined with photos of him. Some candid, som