At this moment, after confirming the new lead of Frederick, Emanuele prepared to reorganize.


    The clue brought by Isidoro indicated that Frederick had been seen at a bar in the city of Los Angeles. Isidoro even managed to snap a photo, albeit blurry. But that bearded, slender man in the picture-could it be Frederick?


    Pinching the photo, Emanuele swore that once he found him this time, he wouldn’t let Frederick tunnel his way out again!


    However, it was a new city, an unfamiliar ce.


    During this time, Emanuele’s warehouses had also suffered attacks from the Sicilians. They were minor skirmishes, probably because, after thest confrontation where Emanuele severely damaged them, they had lost many people and weapons. It would take them a while to recover andunch anotherrge-scale invasion.


    Emanuele thought he should take advantage of this opportunity to eliminate them all, lest trouble brew in the long night.


    After Grazia’s wedding, he nned to settle this matter once and for all!


    But Frederick, after thest experience, became exceptionally cunning. He hid cautiously, and it was precisely due to his expert evasion that Isidoro, renowned for collecting information, took so long to capture a blurry photo of him.


    In the realm of hiding, Frederick was undoubtedly an expert.


    Long ago, he had been driven out of Canadian territory, and at that time, the Campbell family had posted a bounty, yet they couldn’t find his whereabouts. Eventually, he silently sneaked back into his territory.


    “Frederick, no matter where you hide, I will find you!”


    Just then, Emanuele received a message on his phone-a surprising sender, Frederick.


    “Emanuele, if possible, I hope you can hand Isabe over to me. I will disappear from your life. She is so innocent and lively, just like my granddaughter.”


    Attached to Frederick’s message was a photo of Isabe, capturing a tattoo on her lower back-a small butterfly, adorable and vibrant.


    Whenever Emanuele had intimate contact with Isabe, he couldn’t resist kissing that butterfly.


    Now, Frederick sent this photo to Emanuele, and a sense of panic or intense anger filled Emanuele.


    His anger seemed like it could burn down the entire room.


    Phillip noticed Emanuele’s anger and immediately approached him. “Boss, what’s going on?”


    It was rare for Phillip to see Emanuele so emotionally out of control. After reading the message content, Phillip was equally shocked.


    “Phillip, damn it, I feel like that old man has touched my bottom line. He must die!” Emanuele roared.


    “Boss, calm down a bit.”


    Phillip tried to remain slightly moreposed. He knew that in such moments, if Emanuele lost control, as his assistant, it would only make the situation worse.


    “How the hell am I supposed to calm down? That damn Frederick, why is he targeting Isabe? Why does he have a photo of her with a tattoo on her back?”


    “I think, perhaps you should ask your wife.”


    Hearing Phillip’s words, Emanuele gradually snapped back to reality. Yes, he should ask Isabe who knew about the tattoo on her back and had taken a photo of it.


    Emanuele left his work behind and hurried home.


    At this moment, Isabe, having taken a bath,y on the bed, feeling extremely rxed. Trying to console herself, she thought that since Grazia’s wedding was now a certainty, and Grazia herself didn’t resist, maybe Ro would indeed be good to her?


    As she prepared to sleep, unexpectedly, the room’s door was forcefully pushed open, startling Isabe with its loud noise.


    Looking up, she saw a man striding towards her with an imposing aura. He was already quite robust, and in this urgent approach, he carried an even greater sense of oppression, causing Isabe’s heart to involuntarily tense.


    “Emanuele, what’s going on?” Isabe rarely saw Emanuele in such a rushed state. Usually, when he appeared so anxious, it meant something significant had happened.


    Emanuele stood before her, reaching out to grip Isabe’s shoulder. She was dressed in a silk nightgown, with an exceptionally soft andfortable fabric, akin to her skin, making him feel at ease when touching her.


    However, Emanuele was in no mood to appreciate it. His current state of mind was terrible.


    “Isabe, answer me. Do you know Frederick?”


    “Are you talking about the leader of the Sicilian you’ve been opposing? I don’t know him.” Isabe shook her head.


    She didn’t understand why Emanuele was asking her this question.


    The next moment, her nightgown was pulled open by Emanuele, who took out his phone andpared the tattoo on it with Isabe’s lower back. He scrutinized it carefully, matching the patterns and the tattoo’s location-it was an exact match.


    If it was fake, how could it be so realistic?


    Frederick’s rtionship with Isabe was definitely not simple. Or perhaps, someone close to Isabe was connected to Frederick?


    Emanuele’s brow furrowed tightly, as if he could crush a fly between his brows.


    Isabe had no idea what was happening. She only noticed Emanuele storming in, questioning her, and then opening her clothes to check. This series of actions left Isabe bewildered.This belongs ? N?velDra/ma.Org.


    “Emanuele, what’s going on?” Isabe started to feel nervous.


    “Have you ever had someone take a photo of the tattoo on your back?” Emanuele asked her.


    Isabe denied, “I haven’t. Only the tattoo artist took photos while I was getting it done, and they’re on my phone.”


    Isabe searched her phone’s gallery and showed Emanuele the pictures the tattoo artist took.


    Emanuele saw several shots of the butterfly from various angles, butpared to the photo on his phone, there was a slight difference.


    “When did you get this tattoo?”


    “I got it in my freshman year. I went with Evelyn. She got a bee tattoo on her arm.”


    Could Evelyn be rted to Frederick?


    Emanuele quickly dismissed this thought. When he approached Isabe, he had already investigated the rtionships around her. Her hospital colleague and also her best friend, Evelyn, who grew up in Chicago. Evelyn’s parents ran a watch shop, and her background was straightforward. There was no reason for her to coborate with Sicilian people.


    So what could be the reason?


    Emanuele felt that if he couldn’t identify the core issue, he wouldn’t be able to sleep for some time.


    “Emanuele, what’s going on with you?” Isabe struggled out of Emanuele’s embrace and looked at him, her face showing a hint of confusion.