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After 7 Years of Going Dutch, I Returned Home as a Mafia Heiress
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The night I lost the promotion I had worked for years to earn, I sent my boyfriend, Arthur, a text message. [I'm a little tired today, but the hot dog at the corner actually tastes pretty good.] My screen stayed dark. Half an hour later, I couldn't stop myself from typing again: [Are you busy? I just want to hear your voice.] A reply finally lit up my screen: [Are you trying to guilt me into sending you money?] I stared at the text, frozen. When Arthur had first started his company, his mother had drained every account and disappeared with all the funds, leaving him with billions in debt overnight. After that, he hated one thing above all else. Women who loved him for his money. For seven years, I had done everything I could to prove I wasn't one of them. We went Dutch on meals, I returned his gifts, and the results of every corporate project I handled were laid out in the open for anyone to scrutinize. And now, as I mindlessly scrolled through social media, I saw a selfie posted by Jessica, the intern who had just stolen my promotion. She was wearing a plunging V-neck gown, pinned with a pigeon-blood ruby brooch. The caption read: [Thank you to Mr. Whitmore for the congratulations. I look forward to learning from you in the future.] That brooch was a top-tier custom piece. I'd seen it in a catalog from an auction house. Tears blurred my screen into a messy haze. I suddenly understood. The innocence I'd spent seven years proving was worth less to him than the hot dog I'd just choked down. Since that was the case, I dialed a number I hadn't called in a very long time. "Papa, I want to come home. I'm ready to be the heiress."
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After 7 Years of Going Dutch, I Returned Home as a Mafia Heiress Chapter 11
The days were long, but the years were short.International acquisitions closed, one after another. The soldati under my command were honed into weapons of absolute loyalty.On weekends, I would go to the penthouse shooting range for target practice, throw parties on yachts with friends from the business world, or simply enjoy the breeze quietly on the terrace of the estate.Eventually, I met someone new. A new relationship bloomed. A marriage was planned.The night of my engagement, I was curled up lazily in a leather sofa at the estate, twisting the pigeon's blood ruby on my ring finger.My private phone, resting on the coffee table, lit up.I swiped the screen. It was a short text from an unsaved number:[Vivian, will you really never look back?]I stared at it expressionlessly for two seconds.Then I hit the lock button and placed the phone face down on the table.My fiancé, Luca, the heir to another powerful family, walked over from the bar carrying two glasses of bourbon on the r
After 7 Years of Going Dutch, I Returned Home as a Mafia Heiress Chapter 10
We sat across from each other in a private room at a high-end Italian restaurant owned by my family. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, dusk was settling in.I chose this place because every waiter here would politely escort anyone out the moment I raised an eyebrow.When I arrived, Arthur was already sitting in the room.An open bottle of Barolo, two empty glasses."Vivian, I know very well that the stupid decision I made three years ago was entirely wrong.""I admit all of it.""I want to use everything I have to make it right."I picked up the glass of water in front of me, took a sip, and set it down."Whatever you want, I'll give it to you.""Shares, real estate, equity in any company I own... as long as you say the word, I'll give it all to you."I looked straight into his eyes. "Arthur, if I wanted what you have, I wouldn't need you to give it to me. I'd take it. Do you still see yourself as the man on high, here to grade my performance?""Even now, you don't get it. You neve
After 7 Years of Going Dutch, I Returned Home as a Mafia Heiress Chapter 9
When the banquet ended, I waited for my car at the back entrance of the club.Arthur's tall frame approached. The scent of alcohol clung to him.He was always so controlled, never drinking to excess. In seven years, I'd never once seen him drunk.Tonight, he had drunk a lot."Vivian."I turned my head.The wall lamp in the back alley shone on his face—half in light, half in shadow. He stood on the top step, the wind blowing the hem of his coat."Come back to me."His voice was pitched low, as if he were afraid of startling something."Let's start over. Okay?"I looked into his eyes.Those were the same deep eyes I remembered from under the cherry blossoms in Central Park, seven years ago. The kind that had once promised to hold my entire world.Except three years ago, when he looked at me, there was nothing left inside but judgment.But now, the pleading in his eyes had come far too late.I laughed a little and looked down."Arthur.""Three years ago, you called me 'unprofessional,' an
After 7 Years of Going Dutch, I Returned Home as a Mafia Heiress Chapter 8
At a commercial negotiation for a North District real estate development, the delegation from the opposing company walked into the conference room.The door pushed open. The moment our eyes met, I saw Arthur, dressed in a sharp suit.He was much thinner than he was three years ago. The lines of his jaw were sharper, harder, and his deep-set eyes held a darkness I hadn't seen before.The moment he saw me, his steps faltered, and his breath hitched.Then he walked around the long table, approached me, and held out his hand. "Long time no see, Vivian."I barely gave him a glance. He was still wearing the same plain silver band on his ring finger.I reached out, lightly brushed my fingertips against his palm, and pulled away in less than a second."Mr. Whitmore." I settled back into the chair at the head of the table and tapped the proposal."Let's not waste time. You can start with your proposal.""Let's begin."For the entire two-hour meeting, he sat across the long table.I could feel h
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