Mason leaned back, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Because I realized something. We're not just a crime syndicate, Eve. We're an empire. And empires don't crumble because of one close call. They adapt. They grow stronger."
He stood, pacing the room as the words flowed. "We've been playing it safe for too long. It's time to expand. To take what's ours."
Eve's expression shifted from suspicion to intrigue. "What exactly are you proposing?"
Mason's mind raced, piecing together fragments from the earlier meeting. "Ramirez thinks he can muscle in on our territory? Let's crush him. The Italians are worried about their shipments? We'll double them. And as for our friends in city hall..." He paused, a wicked glint in his eye. "Well, let's just say it's time for some new leadership in this town."
Eve stared at him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Now that sounds like the Leo King I know." She grinned. "Welcome back, boss."
As Eve left the office, Mason sank back into the chair, his bravado evaporating. What the hell had he just done? He was no crime lord. He was a contractor who could barely keep up with his Home Depot credit card payments.
But as he gazed out at the glittering Chicago skyline, something stirred in his chest. A hunger he'd never known before. A thirst for power, for respect... for revenge.
Mason Rivers was gone. Olivia had seen to that.
But Leo King? Leo King was just getting started.
He reached for the phone on the desk, his fingers hovering over the keypad. One call could end this charade. One honest conversation could send him back to his old life.
Instead, Mason dialed a number he'd overheard during the meeting. "Sergei? It's me. Get the boys together. We're going to pay our friend Ramirez a little visit."
As he hung up, Mason caught his reflection in the window. For a moment, he barely recognized himself. Gone was the defeated man who'd wandered the rainy streets. In his place stood someone new. Someone dangerous.
Someone who would never be called worthless again.
A slow smile spread across Mason's face. Let the games begin.
...
Turning to the laptop already powered before him, Mason's fingers flew across the keyboard, his eyes fixed on the computer screen. The name "Ethan Langford" glared back at him, a digital reminder of his humiliation. With each click, Mason delved deeper into the life of the man who'd stolen everything from him.
"Gotcha," Mason muttered.
Tomorrow night, Ethan would be attending a high-stakes auction of rare minerals and unusual discoveries. And of course, Olivia would be there, playing the role of the perfect trophy wife.
Mason's jaw clenched. He could picture them now – Ethan in a tailored tuxedo, Olivia draped in diamonds, both of them laughing at some inside joke. His stomach churned.
The event was on the other side of the city. Far enough that his new "associates" wouldn't likely spot him. Perfect.
Mason leaned back in the plush leather chair, his mind racing. The meeting with Ramirez could wait. This... this was personal.
Just then, the office door swung open. Eve strode in, arms laden with folders. "Got those files you asked for, boss. Surveillance photos of our rivals, last known locations, the works."
Mason nodded, hoping his expression didn't betray his confusion. "Good work."
Eve's eyes narrowed as she studied him. "You feeling alright, Leo? You look a little... off."
Mason forced a chuckle. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
"Well, don't overdo it." Eve's tone softened slightly. "You know what tomorrow is, right?"
Mason's heart skipped a beat. Had he missed something crucial?
Eve rolled her eyes. "Your birthday, dummy. Don't tell me you forgot your own tradition."
Birthday? Mason's mind reeled. He scrambled to piece together what Eve was talking about.
"Right, of course," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "The, uh... the thing I do every year."
Eve snorted. "The 'thing'? You mean dropping a cool million like it's pocket change? Yeah, I'd call that a 'thing'."
She reached into her jacket and pulled out a sleek black card. It gleamed in the low light, unmarked except for a series of numbers embossed in gold.
"Your golden ticket," Eve said, placing the card on the desk. "One million dollars, ready to burn. Try not to blow it all on strippers and blow this time, yeah?"
Mason's fingers twitched as he reached for the card. A million dollars. More money than he'd ever seen in his life, let alone held in his hands. And apparently, it was just a drop in the bucket of Leo King's fortune.
He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his voice steady. "How much is on here, exactly?"
Eve raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Did you take a blow to the head while you were gone?" She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's just say it's got more zeroes than you've got fingers and toes, boss. Now, you gonna tell me what's really going on with you?"
Mason's mind raced. He was walking a tightrope, and one wrong step would send him plummeting. But as he looked at Eve – really looked at her – he saw something beyond the tough exterior. Concern. Loyalty. Maybe even... friendship?
He took a deep breath. "Eve, I... I need to tell you something."
Eve's posture stiffened, her hand instinctively moving towards the gun holstered at her hip. "I'm listening."
Mason opened his mouth, the truth on the tip of his tongue. But then his eyes fell on the black card, and something inside him shifted.
A million dollars. An invite to Chicago's most exclusive event. A chance to show Olivia exactly what she'd thrown away.
The words changed shape in his mouth. "I need your help," he said instead. "There's an auction tomorrow night. Rare minerals, that sort of thing. I want to attend. Alone."
Eve's brow furrowed. "The Morrison Gala? Leo, that's not our usual scene. What's the angle?"
Mason leaned forward, channeling every ounce of authority he could muster. "Let's just say I've got my reasons. I need you to clear my schedule, get me the proper attire. And Eve? This stays between us. No backup, no surveillance. Just me and that card."
Eve studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded. "Alright, boss. Your call. But if you're not back by midnight, I'm coming in guns blazing. Deal?"
Mason allowed himself a small smile. "Deal."
As Eve turned to leave, Mason called out, "And Eve? Thanks. For everything."
She paused at the door, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Then she smirked. "Don't go soft on me now, King. Save the sentimentality for your birthday cake."
Once alone, Mason slumped in his chair, exhaling slowly. He'd bought himself some time, but the clock was ticking. Tomorrow night, he'd come face to face with Olivia and Ethan. The thought sent a shiver down his spine – equal parts dread and anticipation.
He picked up the black card, turning it over in his hands. A million dollars to spend, and a whole new identity to hide behind.
Mason's reflection stared back at him from the polished surface of the desk. For a moment, he barely recognized himself. The defeated contractor was gone, replaced by... something else. Someone harder. Colder.
Someone who might just be able to pull this off.
He pocketed the card and stood, moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The Chicago skyline glittered before him, a sea of lights and possibilities. Somewhere out there, Olivia was probably curled up in Ethan's arms, thinking she'd seen the last of her loser husband.
Mason's lips curved into a devilish smile. Oh, how wrong she was.
The next evening, Mason adjusted his Italian silk tie, catching his reflection before a full-length mirror. The man staring back bore little resemblance to the contractor who'd stumbled through the rain just days ago. Tonight, he wore power like a second skin, wrapped in a bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo that Eve had somehow procured within hours, its price tag more than he used to make in a year. "Looking sharp, boss," Eve said, leaning against the doorframe. "You sure you don't want backup tonight?"Mason shook his head. "This is something I need to do alone."Eve's eyes narrowed. "You know, a few days ago, I would've bet my life that I knew everything about you, Leo. Now? I'm not so sure."Mason met her gaze in the mirror. "People change, Eve. Sometimes overnight."A wry smile tugged at Eve's lips. "Yeah, well, just make sure you come back in one piece. I've gotten used to having you around."As Mason headed for the door, Eve called out, "Oh, and Leo? Happy birthday."He mumbled a thanks a
Mason reached his car—a sleek Aston Martin that belonged to Leo—just as his phone buzzed. Unknown number."Mr. Rivers?" A crisp, professional voice. "This is James Wheeler from Hartman & Associates. We have your divorce papers ready for signing. Would tomorrow at 9 AM suit you?"Mason's grip tightened on the phone. For a moment, rage threatened to overwhelm him—at Olivia, at Ethan, at the whole damn world that had conspired to humiliate him.Then, slowly, his fingers relaxed."Actually," he said, his voice deadly calm, "I'm afraid I'll have to decline. You see, I've recently come into some... opportunities. I think we'll need to renegotiate the terms."He hung up before the lawyer could respond.Truly, he's realized for the second time that Olivia's mind was made up over the divorce and there was no turning back.Clenching his phone tightly, a deafening roar ensued ripping up from his gut, unleashing all the fury he'd bottled up through the endless night.A wounded man's cry.Just then
Their eyes widened at the sleek black card in Mason's hand. This wasn't just any old piece of plastic - it was the mythical Platinum Pinnacle Card. Whispers rippled through the crowd: only seven of Chicago's most powerful players possessed such a thing. Smart folks started inching towards the exits, suddenly very aware they might've just ticked off someone who could squash them like bugs. The bolder ones? They leaned in, hungry for drama.Olivia's snorted, firing a disdainful look towards Mason. "Oh, please," she hissed. "Drop the act, Mason. I know you're full of hot air. You might fool everyone here, but I see right through you. You're as hollow as your promises."Mason only smiled, and nodded to the auctioneer. 'Carry on,' his eyes seemed to say.Ethan, not one to be outdone, jumped in. "Babe, I told you don't waste your breath on this loser." He smirked, puffing up like a peacock. "That card? It's as fake as his self-respect. Hell, even my family doesn't have one of those. Only t
"Not so fast." Ethan's voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. His lips curled into a cunning smile as he raised his phone. "Don't you dare think this is over."Mason froze, his hand on the door. He turned slowly, eyebrow raised. "Something else on your mind, Ethan?"Ethan's face was already red, veins popping on his forehead. "You worthless fraud! That card - it's stolen! It has to be! There's no way in hell a nobody like you could have a Platinum Pinnacle!"The crowd, which had been buzzing with whispers, fell silent. All eyes darted between Mason and Ethan, like spectators at the world's most intense tennis match. Mason's grip tightened on the velvet box containing the Aurora Borealis Diamond, his knuckles turning white. The accusation was heavy. Seemed like they've finally found the right spot to crush him.Olivia, sensing her moment, stepped forward, her crimson dress catching the light. "Oh, this is rich. First, he shows up here uninvited, and now he's committing fraud?" Her
Mason's heart skipped several beats as the cold metal pressed against his skull. Eve's familiar voice sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the night air."Don't move," she growled again, "or I'll paint this parking lot with your brains."His mouth went dry. This was it—she'd figured out his deception. "Eve, what's—""Care to explain," she cut him off, her tone deadly serious, "why our birthday boy who should be at his own party with the boys chose the police station as his preferred venue?"The gun lowered, and Mason released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. She was joking. Sort of.He forced a chuckle, though his heart still raced, studying Eve's expression for any sign she knew more than she let on. "What can I say? The birthday boy was just buying himself a present before those idiotic cops got entertained about this card." He pulled out the black Platinum Pinnacle, extending it toward Eve, while being perfect maintaining his composure. "Those idiots
Mason's heart did a weird stutter-step. The video showed Olivia, clearly tipsy, ranting to reporters:"You want to know the truth about that man?" She swayed slightly, her perfect composure betraying her. "He was a big fat nothing! A nobody! I flushed six whole years down the drain with him, and what'd I get? Empty promises and jewelry that'd make a gumball machine blush!" She laughed. "And now he waltzes in with some magic black card? Please! Give me a break! I know that man better than anyone – he's just a two-bit con in a fancy monkey suit!"Mason watched, keeping his expression blank. Once upon a time, those words would've crushed the old him like a bug. But now? Now he saw something different in her eyes. Unrepentant. Sin. A total she-devil, reeling from realization that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have him all figured out after all."You good, boss?" Eve's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "And... six years? What's she on about?"Mason's brain kicked into overdrive, spinni
Ethan reached out, taking her hand in his. "Well, you certainly traded up, didn't you?" He flashed her his million-dollar smile, the one that graced magazine covers and charmed investors.Olivia's expression softened. "I did, didn't I?" She squeezed his hand. "God, I'm so glad I left when I did. Can you imagine if I'd stuck around? I'd probably be visiting him in lockup right now, listening to him swear he'd 'make it big' someday."They shared another laugh, the champagne making everything seem brighter, funnier. Ethan topped off their glasses, his mind already working on possibilities. "We could really milk this for all it's worth, you know.""Oh?" Olivia leaned in, intrigued."Think about it," Ethan continued, warming to his theme. "Chicago's golden couple, exposing a would-be fraudster? We could spin this into a crusade against financial crime. I'll give some impassioned interviews about the importance of vigilance, maybe even start a foundation..."Olivia's eyes lit up. "Ethan, tha
They burst out into the night air, the rest of the team converging from different directions. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer by the second."Everyone in the cars, now!" Mason barked. They piled in, tires squealing as they peeled away from the warehouse.Mason's mind spinned with different thoughts as they sped through the empty streets. He'd been so damn sure, so cocky about his plan to turn Ethan against Ramirez. But now... now it felt like he'd stepped in something way deeper and stinkier than he'd ever imagined.Back at the safehouse, the team gathered in tense silence. Mason paced, running a hand through his hair, trying to imitate what Leo could be playing when a mission failed. "What in the ever-loving hell happened back there?" he demanded. "How'd they know we were coming?"Eve's face was fame. "Someone squealed. We've got a rat."The implications of her words settled over the room. If they had a mole, in Leo's leadership, it meant death and a gruesome one at tha
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."
Olivia's world crumbled in real time. Her phone buzzed incessantly – notifications from her "besties" unfollowing en masse, brand deals evaporating, and her carefully curated image dissolving with each refresh.Mrs. King had barely coughed and she was already disappearing."Three million followers," Charlotte mused, swirling her champagne while checking her phone. "Down to two point eight... two point five... sweet Jesus on a jewelry heist." Her laugh tinkled like crystal breaking. "They're dropping faster than bodies during Prohibition."Eve crossed her legs, South Side confidence in a North Shore setting. "Baby girl, where I come from – and trust, that ain't nowhere near your zip code – we got a saying: karma ain't just a bitch, she's a whole damn collection agency. And today?" She smirked. "She's come to collect."Mason hadn't moved from his chair, hadn't even looked at Olivia directly. His attention seemed focused entirely on adjusting his cufflinks – Leo's cufflinks – with the sa
"Kneel."Helena's command cut through the ballroom like a blade. The single word carried enough authority to make generals snap to attention.Ethan Langford, who'd spent his life believing money could buy respect, found himself facing something his millionaire cards couldn't touch – real power."I... what?" Ethan's face went from red to white faster than a traffic light."Your hearing seems impaired, Mr. Langford. Perhaps I should speak with someone more... responsive. Your father, perhaps?".The threat slithered through the air like a designer-clad cobra. Around them, phones appeared, everyone hungry for a piece of this latest King family drama, desperate to capture the moment Chicago's golden boy got his crown knocked sideways."Kneel." Helena stood, every inch the queen in her domain. "And apologize to my son."The crowd's collective gasp could've sucked the oxygen from the room. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through autumn leaves. "Is that really Leo King?" "The son