Chapter 1
The private Mafia birthday banquet was bathed in brilliant, vivid colors, illuminated by natural, cinematic lighting that poured through the massive skylights of the mansion atrium. The light carried absolutely no dull or yellow tint, casting a pristine, warm glow over the extravagant setting. It highlighted the flawless, fair and rosy skin of the white American guests who mingled around the long birthday table. The expansive room was a monument to syndicate wealth, featuring a low marble sculpture plinth, velvet crowd posts with thick ropes, luxurious leather ottomans, and a striking bronze decorative statue that caught the crisp light. Waiters in pristine uniforms moved silently, serving champagne to capos and associates.
At the edge of the gathering stood Charlotte, the thirty-six-year-old wife of the syndicate’s boss. Her fair, rosy skin contrasted beautifully with her extravagant champagne-colored satin evening gown. She adjusted the heavy diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist, her silver stiletto heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She looked down at her eight-year-old son, Liam, who was dressed impeccably in a crisp navy blue blazer, grey tailored trousers, a light blue dress shirt, and polished loafers.
"Stand up straight, Liam," Charlotte murmured, her American accent smooth but laced with an icy edge. "Tonight is about projecting strength. These people need to see who the true heir to this family's legacy will be. You are a blood relative of my side of the family. Act like it."
"Yes, Mother," Liam replied quietly, keeping his hands neatly at his sides. "But isn't the party for Maya today?"
"The party is a political necessity," Julian interrupted, stepping up beside his sister. At forty years old, Charlotte’s brother and senior Mafia-family associate wore an expensive light-grey tailored suit, a crisp white shirt, and black leather oxfords. The luxury chronograph wristwatch on his arm flashed in the bright light. His fair, rosy face was set in a confident, arrogant smirk. "This is about showing the capos that the merger between our families is absolute. Xavier might sit at the head of the table, but we control the foundation."
"Julian is right," Charlotte whispered, glancing toward the heavy mahogany doors of the adjoining council room. "Xavier has been entirely too focused on that child since her mother died. He coddles her. It makes him look weak to the other families. I will not have my position in this syndicate undermined by a three-year-old."
"Then don't let it be," Julian said casually, taking a sip from his crystal glass. "You are his wife. Start running this house the way it is meant to be run. If you don't establish dominance over the girl now, she will grow up thinking she owns the empire that we are helping to secure."
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she looked across the atrium. "You don't need to worry about that, Julian. I have already made the necessary arrangements to ensure she understands exactly where she stands in my home."
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"Just be careful," Julian chuckled softly. "Xavier isn't a man who takes kindly to surprises. He is a ghost, Charlotte. You know what he did to the Rossi crew."
"He is my husband," Charlotte replied coldly, raising her chin. "He needs my family's connections to keep the eastern ports open. He won't dare touch me."
