The Mafia Heir

Back in El Tricolor, there's a rule: If I don't get married by thirty, I have to go back and marry the woman my father arranged for me. When my girlfriend, Stella Ross, heard this, her face filled with complete disdain. "Arranged marriage? Is your home in some remote tribe? Or are you stuck in the Middle Ages? Alan, quit with these pathetic excuses to force a marriage!" She let out a mocking laugh and pulled out a ring. "I was actually planning to accept your proposal and even bought us a pair of rings. But since you're so desperate, I think we both need some space to cool off." With that, she tossed the ring straight to her assistant, Ethan Parker. The marriage I had waited years for was casually thrown to someone else, just like that ring. Ethan caught it and shot me a triumphant smirk. As I stood there, frozen, Stella brushed right past me and walked out of the office, sneering. The next second, Ethan feigned embarrassment and held the ring out to me, but I didn't glance his way. "Keep it. I know that's your size anyway," I said. His smile froze on his face. I had zero interest in continuing their little game. Before stepping out of the office, I dropped a single line: "Tell your boss we're broken up." What Stella didn't know was that the father forcing me into marriage was the don of the El Tricolor mafia, and I was his sole heir. And the woman arranged for me was the only daughter of the most powerful mafia don in North Usonia. Chapter 1 I told my father that I would arrive in El Tricolor in three days. After that, I went back to the apartment I shared with Stella Ross. I started packing, and just as I zipped my suitcase shut, Stella walked in. She kicked off her high heels and glared at my bags. Her initial mockery instantly turned into impatience and rage. "Wasn't the scene you caused at the office today enough? Leaving during work hours is one thing, but coming home and keeping up this performance?" I didn't lose my temper; I just looked straight at her. In her eyes, I was always the one creating problems. "I left a message with your assistant before I left." She sneered. "Alan, you're out of your mind! Threatening to break up with me and dragging innocent Ethan into this! Why are you always so hostile toward him? Didn't you train him yourself? Slandering his relationship with me like this will ruin him!" Hostile? Ruin him? Looking at this woman twisting the truth, I found it absurd. Back then, I didn't want to take over my family's mafia business, so I took a small sum of cash and fled El Tricolor. I hid my surname, planning to start a new life in Lanford. That was when I met Stella. At the time, she was a painter overflowing with passion and ideals, but living in complete poverty. I admired her talent and loved her enthusiasm, so I spent the last of my money funding her dream. We squeezed into a cheap basement apartment, fighting off the world with nothing but love and big dreams. Using the business tactics I had learned in my family, I sold her first artwork at a record price, turning her into a sought-after artist among the wealthy elite. And Ethan Parker? He was originally just a temp clerk at a corner convenience store. That day, he was being mugged by thugs, and I happened to be passing by. Looking at his tear-streaked, vivid blue eyes, my heart softened. He reminded me of my younger brother, who died ten years ago in a kidnapping by a rival family. I didn't just scare off the thugs; I also brought him into the company Stella and I founded. Seeing his deep interest in artwork, I convinced Stella to take him on as an assistant. I thought I was saving a young man's life and career. Little did I know, he was far more interested in Stella than in painting. He spent all his energy in the office trying to seduce his boss. Just last week, he made a fatal and foolish mistake. He completely mixed up the requirements for a high-value custom commission from a long-time client. Extremely dissatisfied, the client demanded to cancel the deal. Following protocol, I called an executive meeting. I pointed out Ethan's mistake and instructed him to apologize to the client to preserve our reputation. I didn't even raise my voice. Yet Ethan just clenched his fists, his eyes welling with tears as he looked at Stella at the head of the table, looking deeply wronged. And for the first time ever in a meeting, Stella lost her temper with me. "Enough, Alan!" She slammed the apology letter I had drafted onto the table. "It was just a minor mistake! Is it really necessary to drag Ethan's dignity through the mud? If a client is this unforgiving, then fine. Let them cancel the deal!" Everyone in the room looked at her in shock. That long-time client was someone I had painstakingly cultivated and the very first client who had been willing to pay a premium for her art. "If it were any other client, this wouldn't have been an issue! So, at its core, this is a failure on the sales department. You can't put all the blame on Ethan!" She looked at me with disgust, pulled Ethan over, and turned to address the room. "Since Alan, who runs sales, doesn't know how to screen clients, all new client lists will go through Ethan first from now on. "As for Ethan, he's promoted to my chief secretary. Anyone who has a problem with that can get out right now!" Standing behind her, Ethan smugly raised his eyebrows at me. Meanwhile, Stella tilted her chin up, an arrogant glint of excitement in her eyes. I knew she was thrilled because she had finally put me in my place and forced me to yield. She was tired of hearing people say, "Without Alan, there would be no famous artist named Stella Ross." She was no longer the girl who used to hold me in that dark, cheap basement, crying and saying, "Thank you for making my dream come true and making my life feel complete." However, none of that mattered anymore because I had decided to leave. Chapter 2 Staring at my blank, calm expression, Stella seemed to grow even angrier. "So you've decided to keep playing this game? What scene are we on now? The heartbroken fiancé pretending everything is fine as he packs his bags?" I smiled, looking directly into her eyes, my voice steady. "If that's what you want to believe, then sure, call it an act." Either way, in three days, I’d be on a plane back home. Stella froze. She bit her lip, then turned and slammed the front door shut with all her strength. "Whatever! If you're going to put on a show, you better commit to it!" She didn't come home that night. However, I saw a new post on Ethan's Instagram. Shown on his nightstand was Stella's luxury watch. The laughable part? I was the one who had bought her that anniversary gift. I turned off my phone. The next morning, I walked into our office. I had built this company with my own two hands, using zero connections from my family or my real surname. It was completely clean, and every single painting sold had my effort and sweat poured into it. If I was leaving, I was taking my hard work with me. Just as I was backing up the accounts and client list to a portable hard drive, my sales manager, Sam, pushed the door open and hurried in. His face was pale, his steps unsteady, and his voice trembled. "Mr. King, we're in huge trouble." I looked up at him in confusion. "That idiot Ethan posted a bunch of photos on Instagram yesterday, saying he was pulling an all-nighter with Ms. Ross. And right there in the background, he leaked the draft for her top-confidential project!" My hands froze. Sam’s voice cracked, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears. "Now Ms. Ross' draft is going viral online! That's our biggest project of the year, and it was under a strict NDA! The client is furious. They just sent a legal notice demanding triple damages! A whole year of our company’s revenue won't even cover it!" I snatched the legal letter from his hands and stormed toward Stella's office. The moment I walked in, I saw Ethan resting his head on Stella's lap. The two of them were lounging on the custom sofa from Enotria I had bought, a piece I had specially sourced through my contacts so Stella could rest during all-nighters. It was the only one of its kind in the world. Seeing me enter, Ethan sat up abruptly. "Oh, Alan, don't get the wrong idea! I stayed late yesterday to help Stella with work. I was just exhausted, so I borrowed her couch to rest for a bit." I didn't give him a second glance. Instead, I threw the legal notice right in front of Stella. "Your confidential draft is trending all over the internet. The client is suing us for five million dollars." I stared at her shocked expression. "Who's paying for this?" Stella grabbed the letter. As she read it, her disbelief turned into a dark, grim scowl, and she turned her gaze toward Ethan. Ethan immediately burst into tears, putting on a performance more dramatic than a professional actor's. "I'm sorry, it's all my fault! I just posted a few photos on Instagram. I had no idea it would cause this much trouble! I really didn't mean to!" He sobbed, grabbing Stella’s hand and shaking it as he pleaded, "Stella, you have to believe me! Look, I'll go to the client's office! I'll tell them it was all my fault and beg them to drop the lawsuit! I'll beg them to give us one more chance!" Seeing Stella staring at him darkly without moving or saying a word, Ethan cried even harder, his body twitching with exaggerated sobs. "Really, I can do it! Just let me try..." Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the floor, convulsing. "Ethan! What's wrong?!" Stella panicked and pulled him into her arms, looking up at me in desperation. "Alan, quick, help me call an ambulance!" Watching Ethan's little performance, I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh. "I can call, but we need to figure out who's taking responsibility for this payout first. Is Ethan paying, or are you?" Stella froze, her eyes widening in disappointment. "Alan, are you seriously drawing the line with me at a time like this?" Chapter 3 I stared back at Stella, completely unmoved. Perhaps it was my cold indifference that stung her. Her eyes turned red, and her expression hardened into pure defiance. "It's just money, right? Fine, I'll pay it. How much is it?" "Five million." Stella froze at the amount, disbelief written all over her face. "Five million? You're going to make me shoulder that all by myself?" Ethan conveniently fluttered his eyes open, his voice weak. "Alan! Isn't that way too much? If it weren't for Stella's talent and her artwork, you wouldn't have been able to start this company in the first place, let alone make a single dime. She's just a girl. How can you just stand by and make her pay off this debt alone?" Before he could even finish his sentence, he broke into a violent fit of coughing. Stella patted his back with concern, glaring at me through bloodshot eyes. "Ethan is right! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have made all that money. Now that the company is in trouble, you don't even want to take an ounce of responsibility!" The money I made? Back then, to help sell her paintings, I used every last cent I had to buy a list of art collectors. I trudged through the snow, knocking on doors one by one to pitch her and her work. When her first painting sold for a high price, she coaxed me into keeping just thirty percent as operating capital while letting her take the other seventy percent to further her studies. To build her reputation, I sought out established master artists and wined and dined with them so she could secure a solid foothold in the art scene. Later, as her fame grew, I built this company specifically to market her work and brand. When the company began to make a profit, she said she wanted a dream home and a fairytale wedding, so I wired eighty percent of our profits straight into her account. The love and money I had poured into her far exceeded five million dollars. Yet here she was, holding her lover while pointing her finger at me, cursing me for being heartless just because I refused to take the fall for them. If past-me was willing to give everything freely, then present-me didn't want to spend another single penny on her. "Let me tell you something, Alan. If you want to keep making money off my work and still want me to be your wife, you'd better prove you're willing to go through hard times with me. Otherwise, let the client sue us and let the company go bankrupt!" She bit her lip, threatening me in a fit of rage. I only wanted to laugh. "Fine. Let it go bankrupt then." After all, El Tricolor, my hometown, was the last place short of passionate, struggling genius painters. What difference did it make to me if I simply chose someone else to groom and market? Ethan's eyes rolled back again, and he passed out on the spot. This time, it actually seemed real. Stella stood there, stunned. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, as I turned and walked out the door. The next day, after confirming my flight details, I returned to the office once more. Sam pulled me aside the second I stepped through the door. "Stella managed to cover the compensation payout. The last three hundred thousand gap was actually paid by Ethan. Word is, he even mortgaged his small apartment for it." "True love indeed," I said with an indifferent smile and wished them all the happiness in the world. However, the moment I walked into my office, Ethan barged in with several janitors in tow. They made a complete mess of my files, scattering my belongings all over the floor. Meanwhile, Ethan stood right in front of my desk, barking orders like he owned the place. "That's it, throw all this useless trash out! Move his desk straight into the storage room! Starting today, this office belongs to me." "Stop right there!" I let out a cold laugh. "Belongs to you? Since when?" Ethan raised an eyebrow, his face full of provocation. "Stella said that anyone who doesn't contribute to the company belongs in the storage room. I solved her crisis for her. Starting today, I'm the Director of Sales." Chapter 4 'How fascinating.' The corners of my lips curled up. Yet Ethan didn't know when to stop. Striding up to me like a victor, he got right in my face. "Why don't you just stay in the storage room and watch how I take your woman and your company away from you, you loser?" The moment he heard high heels clicking around the corner, he grabbed my tie, shoved me hard, and took a step back with a deeply aggrieved look. "This is what Stella wanted! How can you blame me?!" "Alan, what do you think you're doing?!" Stella rushed into the room, instantly placing herself in front of Ethan to protect him. "Starting today, you have no right to point fingers at Ethan ever again!" She slammed a stack of documents onto the desk in front of me. "I've made my decision. I'm transferring fifteen percent of the company's shares to Ethan. He's going to be a shareholder now. "As for you, sign this and hand over all your equity. Otherwise, I will revoke all copyright licenses for my artwork immediately! Our partnership ends here, and the company dissolves!" I stared into her eyes. Ethan had traded three hundred thousand dollars for fifteen percent of the company. Meanwhile, the company I had painstakingly built over five years was being threatened with dissolution by the woman I had loved for six years, all to force me to surrender my forty-nine percent stake. She wanted me completely out of the picture. "Don't fight it, Alan. Ethan looked into it yesterday. There's no law in El Tricolor that says you have to get married by thirty or face an arranged marriage. I know you packed your bags on purpose just to make me mad and get my attention. "Be a good boy and sign over the shares. Work under Ethan to manage my artwork properly, and there will still be a place for you in my company. "Maybe then I'll consider becoming your wife again. Otherwise, you can get out on the streets and be a homeless bum." I laughed. Any last shred of pity I had held for her before leaving was now completely gone. I picked up the pen and signed my name on the equity transfer agreement. What she didn't know was that I had already transferred those shares yesterday. Even if I had signed this document ten times, it was completely void. I capped the pen and offered her a faint smile. "Works out great. I resign." "What did you say?" Stella frowned, looking like she couldn't quite believe her ears. "You don't need to fire me. I'm leaving on my own." Ignoring her bewildered expression, I turned around and walked away, taking the company's financial books and client directory with me. Stella rushed after me, shouting at my back in desperation, "Alan! Don't you dare regret this..." Regret? How could I possibly regret this? Tomorrow, when I board that plane back home, she'll realize the forty-nine percent stake was no longer held by a private individual, but by an organization. A mafia under the King family, one I was slated to inherit after marriage, that no one, whether in North Usonia or back in El Tricolor, would ever dare to cross. When that time comes, she will be the one who regrets it.