Total Control

His true identity.

From North America to Southeast Asia, from Europe to Siberia—there was no place he couldn't touch, no business he couldn't run.That was why the entire criminal world bowed to the title.The Don eventually retired, retreating into quiet life.But status was status.

Every year, the Bosses from all over would bring their favorite sons and grandsons to attend the Don's birthday party—an invitation-only event.It wasn't just a party.It was a rite of passage.If the Don was in a good mood, he might speak a few words of wisdom.For most, that was an honor beyond reach.Sebastian's father had also been a gangster.A Capo.

He was barely able to enter the Don's birthday gathering.But Sebastian?He entered that high circle as a ten-year-old boy.Quiet.Unnoticed.A coincidence?Just like a scene out of a movie.Sebastian and Don had met by chance, in one of the small study rooms on the third floor. No one knew what the old man and the young boy had said during that quiet game of chess. For a long time after the party, their brief encounter remained unknown—until Sebastian first rose to prominence at the age of fourteen.

It was once again Don's birthday. The guests, as always, chatted lazily after dinner. Someone casually mentioned a Capo from B-town and how his son had helped save a shipment of arms the previous month. It was said that the father, close to retirement, had earned himself a final bit of glory thanks to the boy. Most people laughed and moved on. But Don—Don listened, smiled rarely, and interrupted: "That Sebastian kid is good. Reminds me of myself when I was young."

The room fell silent.A Capo? For someone of Don's status, even knowing the name was surprising. Let alone the fact that while others fumbled with "that Capo's son," Don had called out Sebastian's name directly.From then on, Sebastian's name spread.

Because of Don's appreciation. Because of that one sentence—"He reminds me of myself." And because Sebastian was so young, some older gang members began to jokingly call him "Boss."Later, when Sebastian returned to Don's birthday party a second time, the two had a long, pleasant conversation. That was when the others finally learned of their first meeting in that small study room.

Did Sebastian borrow Don's power? Perhaps, a little.In his early years, before his wings had fully grown, the nickname "Boss" could easily have brought resentment. But thanks to Don's approval, few dared to challenge him outright. It gave Sebastian a rare space to grow.

But to say he relied on Don—no.There were no blood ties. At best, he was a favored junior.And then, at age seventeen, Don died of a heart attack.That was thirteen years ago.Sebastian hadn't yet cemented his place in the world. When older men called him "Boss," it still carried a teasing note—a playful kind of acknowledgement.Then five years passed.

"Boss" was still "Boss," but fewer and fewer people remained who could call him that with familiarity. The old had aged. The dead had passed. The ones left barely dared joke anymore.Another five years passed. "Boss" became "Mr. Boss."Don's legend faded into history. But in the current world—whether white or black—everyone knew one thing: "Boss" now meant **Mr. Boss**.This was the story of Mr. Boss.

Mr. Boss was stabbed today. A thorough investigation was ordered. No one in the Sixteen States slept that night.Sebastian stirred the entire underground network into action. His man, Lysander, reorganized teams under the cover of darkness. Groups moved silently all night until the villa's defenses were locked down tight.

Elias took charge of investigating the two people Mr. Boss had asked about.Liliane was easy. A villa, an ID, a student card. If Elias couldn't get her full background in under an hour, he'd deserve to gut himself in apology.The other person... was like finding a needle in a haystack. Six foot two. Buzz cut. Northern accent. Right arm injury.

Sebastian had demanded results by sunrise. Somehow, it didn't feel impossible.By dawn—Sebastian sat on the sofa, expressionless. No one could guess what was running through Mr. Boss's mind.Lysander was first to report in. "Boss, the full team is ready."His elite squad—personally trained—was back in place. Mr. Boss's security was no longer a concern.

Then Elias returned in a hurry, dossier in hand, looking both pleased and faintly furious."Boss, I've found the bastard's trail—"Sebastian raised his hand to interrupt. He'd already figured it out. No need for Elias to say more. Some things were better left unsaid."Tell me about Liliane," he said calmly.

Elias hesitated. "Liliane, junior at the Conservatory. Parents died in a plane crash last year..."He held the unopened dossier, a strange look in his eyes."Boss, Liliane is the daughter of—""Maranzano?" Sebastian frowned. The name rang a bell, but no face came to mind.Why did it sound so familiar?

"Boss... Maranzano was that famous godfather of pop music. Died in a car crash two years ago..." Elias added. Honestly, he'd been shocked himself when he saw the file.No wonder a college girl could live in a place like this. Hell, even if **his** boss had a mistress, she wouldn't be living in a villa like this.

"Liliane," Sebastian repeated softly.He said the name again, then turned to look at the white grand piano in the corner of the living room. Through the polished body of the instrument, through its elegance and grace, his eyes softened ever so slightly.

Elias resumed the report—how much property the Maranzano couple had left, how many copyrights, entertainment shares, real estate, even the auction price of the grand piano...By the end, Elias didn't sound like he was reporting an investigation. He sounded like he was taking inventory."Has she ever had a boyfriend?" Sebastian asked.Elias was caught mid-sentence, stunned."What was the family atmosphere like, before her parents died?""Uh..." Elias blinked, speechless.Sebastian glanced at him and said evenly, "Redo it."Then he stood up—and went straight upstairs.