Mason turned to her, the heady rush of power coursing through him. "Eve, I think it's time I paid a little visit to an old hood. Got some unfinished business there. I will love to go alone."Eve's face hardened. "Hell no. Last time you went solo, you vanished for half a year and left everything in shambles. And yesterday?" She jabbed a finger at his chest. "I barely let you out of my sight and you ended up in handcuffs. I'm done with your 'experiments.'"A lazy smile spread across Mason's face. "Worried about strike three?""Strike three might end with your head decorating Ramirez's dining room. We just hit their warehouse, and someone's feeding them intel. God knows what's waiting out there – if I even let you walk out that door."Mason's smile took on a dangerous edge. "You know what they say about the third time being the charm? Like how Christ rose on the third day?" His voice dropped to steel. "This isn't a request, Eve. It's an order."Eve's eyebrows shot toward her hairline. "Af
Mason watched Bill scurry away like a frightened rat, savoring the taste of power on his tongue. The construction site hummed with whispers and sideways glances. His former co-workers gathered in small clusters, their conversations dying whenever they caught his eye."Hey, Rivers!" Jake jogged over, dust coating his safety vest. "What's gotten into you, man? Standing up to Bill like that?"Mason shrugged, letting a cryptic smile play across his lips. "Let's just say I found my backbone.""Found it? More like you grew an adamantium one overnight." Jake wiped sweat from his brow, leaving a streak of dirt. "Though I gotta admit, seeing old Bill turn whiter than printer paper? Worth the price of admission."The office door banged open. Bill emerged, clutching a check like it physically pained him. His face had taken on an interesting shade of puce that clashed magnificently with his yellow hard hat."Here's your blood money," Bill spat, thrusting the paper at Mason. "Now get off my site be
Mason hadn't taken three steps when a voice called out behind him, urgent and pleading."Mr. Rivers! Please, a moment of your time." Hughes's voice carried a desperate edge that made several workers turn their heads.The site president hurried across the construction yard, his Italian leather shoes collecting dust with each stride. The man's usual usually immaculate suit was dusted with concrete powder, his carefully styled hair disheveled from running."Sir?" Mason turned, catching Jake's equally puzzled expression beside him.Hughes reached them, slightly out of breath. "I must personally apologize for the inexcusable behavior you've endured under Bill Hawkin's supervision. The way he treated you... treated all of you..." He gestured helplessly at the construction site. "The company's failure to address this situation earlier reflects poorly on my leadership. It was a failure of leadership on my part. I should have seen it sooner."Jake stood nearby, mouth slightly agape at the sight
Jake's laugh held more pain than humor. "Right. Fifty thousand dollars just lying around?" He shook his head."Things change." Mason straightened, decision crystallizing. "Let me do this. For my nephew.""Nephew?" Tommy perked up, studying Mason with curious eyes."Yeah, kid." Mason's throat tightened. "Uncle Mason's got your back.""Ha! I'm onto you, Mason—I caught what you did there. That sneaky little mood-boost of yours? It totally worked. "Let's say I could," Mason pressed. "Hypothetically."Jake studied him, something shifting in his expression. "Then I'd have to ask where the money came from. And who you really are. Because the Mason Rivers I know barely had two nickels to rub together this morning."Mason muttered under his breath, "Can't blame him for doubting."Tommy coughed again, and Jake's attention immediately returned to his son, murmuring soft reassurances."I love you, Daddy," Tommy whispered, his small voice carrying surprising strength despite his frail frame.Maso
Mason gave a slow nod, the silence saying everything.“Good. We’re still a team. More than that—we’re family here. When one bleeds, we all bleed. When one wins, we all win. Whatever storm's brewin', we weather it together, capisce?"The room went wide, some of the guys got too excited and started poppin' off rounds into the ceiling. Good thing the room was bulletproof, probably they'd had got some explaining to do to the neighborhood.Mason soaked it in, feeding off their energy. This was the juice he needed."What's the play, boss?" Viktor leaned forward, interest kindling in his eyes.Mason laid out what he'd caught wind of at the warehouse, watching his lieutenants' reactions closely. "Ethan Langford's in deeper than we thought. And Ramirez? This punk's pushin' stuff that makes our merchandise look like penny candy at the corner store."That hit them hard. A few murmurs slipped through the crowd, but Mason raised his hand, silencing them."We've got a potential rat, yeah. But here'
"Numbers don't lie, boss," Eve said, leaning closer to examine the numbers. "Something ain't adding up here," she said, tapping the screen. Ethan's company's solid. Why dump forty percent of golden shares?"Mason sprawled in Leo's chair like he owned it, which technically he did now. "See, that's why I keep you around. Sharp nose." He scratched his chin. "Think harder, doll. What went down at that warehouse last night?"Eve's eyes widened as the pieces clicked. "Their communication leak. You think—" she paused. "That could be nothing," Eve said half-heartedly.Mason snorted. "Yeah, and I could be Mother Teresa. Come on, doll, you're smarter than that."Mason tapped the screen, highlighting a series of transactions. "Bingo. Our friend Ethan's trying to get ahead of something big. Something that spooked him enough to liquidate fast.""Again, could be coincidence," Eve offered, but her tone suggested she didn't believe it.Mason barked out a laugh. "In our line of work? Coincidence is ju
Just as he lounged in Leo's leather chair, drumming his fingers against the desk while waiting for his coffee, his phone buzzed – Platinum Reserve Bank's number flashed across the screen.The call transported him back to his old life. A bitter memory surfaced...Three months ago, Mason Rivers had trudged six blocks to Richmond Savings Bank, his beat-up Honda sitting empty in his driveway, too low on gas to risk the drive. The security guard, a pot-bellied man with a permanent sneer, had blocked his path like a bouncer at a club."Executive entrance is for premium customers only." The guard's badge read 'Peterson.'"I just need to make a withdrawal," Mason had explained, sweat beading on his forehead from the walk."Round back," Peterson had jerked his thumb toward the general entrance. "With the rest of 'em."Inside, the teller – Nancy, according to her nameplate – hadn't bothered looking up from her phone. "Balance?""I... I need to withdraw sixty dollars."Nancy's fingers had clacke
"The Aurora Borealis Diamond." Eve's sigh carried decades of boarding school condescension. "Leo's always too busy for shopping, you know how brothers are. So when someone used his card to buy me exactly what I'd been eyeing? Well, that's just Providence, isn't it?""But Ms. King, the man who purchased it-""Did me a favor." Eve's tone hardened. "Unless you're suggesting my brother's card was used without authorization? Because that would imply a security breach at your establishment, and our lawyers do so love a good negligence suit."Mason suppressed a grin as he watched Eve work. She was a natural, playing the spoiled society princess with devastating precision."No! No, of course not, Ms. King. We simply wanted to ensure-""That my birthday present arrived safely? How considerate." Eve examined her reflection in the window. "Though I must say, all this fuss over a simple transaction... it makes one question whether the Morrison Auction House is equipped to handle clientele of our
The spotlight found Mason like an old friend as he approached the podium. Three hundred of Chicago's finest waited in pristine silence, their expectations heavy as Lake Michigan storm clouds.He adjusted his tie and let his eyes sweep the crowd. Petrov, hunched over his cane, eyes sharp as winter steel. The Calabrese twins lounged like mirror-image panthers. Tommy Chen's tattooed dragons writhed beneath his collar as he lit another cigarette.And there, in the back, Helena King - the woman who'd claimed him today as her son. She watched from the shadows, her gaze dissecting him layer by layer."Ladies and gentlemen." Mason's voice carried quiet authority. "Thanks for sticking around this late."The words felt strange in his mouth - too polished, too proper. This wasn't his world. He belonged in construction sites and back alleys, not addressing society's cream in the Drake Hotel's grand ballroom.But Eve's eyes found his from the crowd, carrying that mix of challenge and faith that ma
The chandeliers sparkled overhead as Mason and Eve stood frozen in time, the crowd's chanting growing louder. Eve's green eyes met Mason's, a mixture of challenge and vulnerability in their depths."What do you say, sugar?" Eve whispered, her voice carrying just enough edge to make it a dare. "Ready to give Chicago something to talk about?"Mason's hand tightened on her waist. The boy from St. Catherine's, who'd carved chess pieces from soap and stolen chocolate bars, warred with the man he'd become. Around them, smartphone cameras lifted like fireflies, ready to capture whatever came next."Your call, doll," Mason murmured. "Always has been."Eve's smile bloomed slow and dangerous. She reached up, fingers curling around his neck, and pulled him down to meet her lips. The kiss exploded through the room like summer lightning, electric and inevitable. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment Chicago's most eligible bachelor fell for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.Helena watched
She studied him through hooded eyes. Vincent Romano - self-made billionaire, corporate shark, the man who'd whispered poison in Thomas's ear about bloodlines and legacy. The same man who'd nearly succeeded in destroying her marriage when no male heir appeared after Charlotte."Thinking about masks," Helena's voice carried cut crystal edges. "And the men who wear them.""No masks tonight." Vincent's thumb traced dangerous patterns on her waist. "Just truth.""Truth?" Helena's laugh could've frozen champagne. "From the man who tried to convince my husband I was barren? Who suggested Thai surrogates and discrete divorce lawyers?"Vincent had the grace to flinch. "Ancient history.""Nothing's ancient in Chicago." Helena's nails dug into his shoulder. "Power has a long memory.""Then let me make new memories." Vincent pulled her closer, cologne wrapping around them like expensive sin. "Let me prove my worth.""Worth?" Helena's smile could gut a banker. "And what exactly do you think you're
Meanwhile across the floor, Helena and Vincent wove through their own dangerous ballet, decades of rivalry and respect spinning between them like a spider's web made of platinum and poison."Your thoughts are thundering, Vincent." Helena's voice carried the kind of amusement that preceded bloodshed. "Rather crude for a man of your... reputation. Now drop the charming rogue act." Her tone could've frozen Dom Pérignon mid-pour. "What's your real play here?"Vincent's laugh rolled rich and dark. "Can't a gentleman simply savor excellence?""Gentlemen like you don't do simple." Helena's eyes narrowed. "And they certainly don't waltz with their greatest threat without proper motivation.""Threat?" Vincent pulled her closer, testing boundaries. "Such harsh language for such an... intimate moment.""Sweet talk is for amateurs." Helena's smile could gut a diamond. "I expected more finesse."Vincent's eyes mapped her features like territory to conquer. "Time's been kinder to you than most, Hel
The orchestra's music washed over the ballroom like memories turned liquid. Eve pressed closer to Mason, her breath warm against his collar. The champagne and caviar crowd faded to background noise, leaving just the two of them spinning through moments stolen from fate itself."Ya know what's funny about dancing?" Eve drawled, her fingers tracing patterns on Mason's shoulder. "Gets a girl thinking about the old days."Mason's grip tightened on her waist, protective and possessive all at once. "That so, doll?""Mmhmm." Eve's eyes went distant, seeing past the glittering chandeliers to a concrete garden years ago. "Got me remembering this kid I knew back in the joint - St. Catherine's. Funny thing about them orphanage dumps," her voice carried whiskey-smooth over the music. "Sometimes you strike gold in all that garbage."Mason's heart stopped, then stuttered back to life. But his feet kept moving, muscle memory carrying them through the waltz. "Tell me more.""Had this sweet kid there.
Charlotte King wasn't the type to stumble. Not in six-inch Louboutins, not in business, and definitely not into strange men at charity functions. But those eyes - deep brown with flecks of gold, like expensive bourbon in crystal - they made her forget about steady feet."Adrian De Silva." His voice carried Old World charm wrapped in New Money confidence. "And you must be Charlotte King." He caught her elbow as she steadied herself, his touch precise as a surgeon's."Must I?" Charlotte's eyebrow arched with practiced disdain, but her pulse quickened traitorously. The velvet box felt warm in her hands."The camera loves you," Adrian gestured to her phone. "Though it hardly does you justice.""Smooth." Charlotte's laugh held razors. "You practice that line in the mirror?""Only for the past hour." His smile turned self-deprecating. "Was it too much?""Honey, everything in this room's too much." Charlotte glanced around the opulent ballroom. "That's kind of the point."Adrian stepped clos
While Mason and Eve claimed their spot on the dance floor, Olivia dragged what remained of her dignity toward the restroom. The walls of the Drake seemed to close in, each step on Italian marble echoing her downfall. No escape route tonight – not with Ethan locked into this circus of a party. Her only refuge? The powder room, where at least she could fall apart in private.She stumbled inside, her dress snagging the door like some bargain basement knockoff. Cold marble bit into her palms as she gripped the counter, staring at her reflection through tears that turned five grand worth of makeup into abstract art."Pull yourself together," she hissed, voice raw. "You're Olivia fucking Parker. You don't break. You break others."But the mirror wasn't buying her tough act. Designer dress, couture makeup, social media throne – all of it crashing harder than her her father's career. Fresh tears carved new paths down her cheeks, and this time she didn't fight them.The bathroom door creaked.
Eve moved with the grace of a street cat in designer heels, increasing the room's heartbeat, the small velvet box cradled in her hands."Mrs. King. Since we ain't been properly acquainted till now, I thought it right to mark the occasion." She extended the box with practiced elegance. "Something to show proper respect."Helena's fingers accepted the offering with aristocratic grace. "How... thoughtful." Her tone carried decades of social superiority. She paused, studying Eve with the intensity of a jeweler examining a suspicious stone. "Though one wonders what could warrant such... generosity.""Consider it a down payment," Eve purred, the street's edge barely masked by designer vowels. "On future family dinners."Charlotte perked up like a shark scenting blood. "Oh, this gonna be good." Her phone stayed steady, catching every micro-expression. The box opened with a whisper of expensive hinges.Light exploded.The Aurora Borealis Diamond caught the chandeliers' glow and multiplied it
Mason watched Olivia crumble with the detached interest of a man studying a particularly fascinating car crash. The designer dress that had once made her feel invincible now looked like expensive wrapping paper after Christmas – beautiful, but ultimately disposable."You know what's funny?" His voice carried that particular South Side quiet that made smart people nervous. "All them followers, all them likes... and not one of them's gonna help you up off that floor."Charlotte's livestream count hit six figures. Comments flew past faster than bullets on a bad night:"THE QUEEN OF INSTA IS DEAD 👑💀""karma serving LOOKS tonight 💅""this tea is nuclear ☢️"Eve's laugh sparkled like broken glass. "Sugar, where I come from, we call this a biblical dropping of receipts.""Mr. Langford. Ms. Parker." Her voice cut through. "I believe your... performance has concluded. Though do remember – social media is forever. And Chicago..." Her smile promised winter in August. "Chicago never forgets."