Chapter 1
The engagement party was supposed to be a seamless merger of two powerful crime families, set against a backdrop of breathtaking, airy elegance. The estate’s sprawling garden was bathed in bright, cinematic light, possessing a soft, elegant warmth that brought the surrounding scenery to life. Gentle golden highlights danced across the leaves of the old oak trees, perfectly complementing the clean whites of the silk flower garlands draped over a lightweight engagement arch. It was a picturesque afternoon, devoid of any harsh yellow cast or muddy orange tints. The illumination was so clear and sufficient that it revealed the faces of the fifty guests and staff gathered around the crowded, linen-draped tables. They were the elite, men and women with fair, natural rosy skin tones, holding crystal champagne flutes and conversing in crisp American accents.
Yet, beneath the luminous beauty of the garden, a dark and volatile tension had finally snapped.
Alden Fairbourne, a thirty-one-year-old Mafia boss of formidable reputation, stood near the engagement arch. He was strikingly handsome and unapologetically masculine, his swept-back dark hair impeccably styled, his angular face and sharp jawline accentuated by short, precise stubble. He wore a tailored dark suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly, a family signet ring, and polished leather shoes. Refined, artistic tattoos peeked out from his collar and covered his hands, marking his history and his power. But right now, that power was being publicly challenged.
Two massive bodyguards—one Black American and one white American, both wearing dark suits and earpieces—had suddenly stepped forward and gripped Alden’s upper arms.
"What is the meaning of this, Sloane?" Alden asked, his deep, measured voice cutting through the ambient noise of the garden. He did not struggle against the immense weight of the guards, though his jaw tightened imperceptibly.
Standing before him was Sloane Mercer, his thirty-four-year-old fiancée. She wore a luxurious, sculpted engagement gown that swept the pristine lawn, her diamond earrings catching the sunlight.
"You were speaking to my father’s lieutenants without my permission, Alden," Sloane said, her voice carrying a sharp, dangerous edge. "This is a partnership. You don't make unilateral decisions today."
"Are you under the impression that I require your permission to manage my own territories?" Alden questioned, his tone dangerously low, refusing to break eye contact with her.
"I am under the impression that you need to be reminded of your place," Sloane replied, stepping closer. "Your family is bleeding money. You need my syndicate to survive. You need me."
"Do you believe a public spectacle will inspire my loyalty?" Alden asked, his cold eyes narrowing.
"I believe a public spectacle will teach you obedience," Sloane hissed.
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Before anyone could intervene, Sloane reached out, her manicured fingers grabbing the dark silk of Alden’s necktie. With a sudden, violent motion, she pulled him slightly forward and slapped him hard across his face. The sharp crack echoed over the crowded tables. Several guests, loyal to Sloane's family, actually laughed, raising their phones to record the humiliation of the Fairbourne boss.
"It’s my wedding," Sloane mocked, a cruel smile twisting her fair features. "Learn to behave."
