Betrayed By The Son, Claimed By His Mafia Father

After working 8 hours at coffee shop, I raced to the boutique for my third job of the day. My heels ached, but I still had to smile and accept the manager's order to serve difficult customers.

I grabbed a velvet tray and walked toward the couple buying engagement rings. That's when I noticed the man.

There was no doubt that he was my boyfriend Luca. The woman next to him put her hand on his arm as they looked at rings that probably cost more than my annual salary across all the jobs I worked.

It was my best friend Chloe.

They were laughing and chatting casually, but the way their arms were linked and the look they shared held a closeness that went far beyond just friendship.

Watching the scene, I felt strangely detached, as if I were watching a movie. Only the high-pitched ringing in my ears and the tight, burning ache in my chest—sharp enough to steal my breath—reminded me that this betrayal was real.

Tears stung my eyes, sudden and searing. The tray slipped from my fingers and landed on the carpet.

The sound made them turn around.

Time stopped as I watched Luca's face transform. His posture went stiff.

"Eleanor—when did you start working here? We didn't know you worked here." he started.

The way he said 'we' made me nauseous.

"How long has this been going on?" I forced the words past the tightness in my throat and asked.

Chloe's eyes widened. She dropped her hand from Luca's arm fast.

"This isn't what it looks like." He laughed nervously. "I'm picking out a ring, yes, but it's for you. For us. Chloe was helping me get a female's perspective."

The words should make sense. They didn't.

"My ring," I repeated slowly.

I looked at the display case. At the rings starting from $25,000.

It was so clearly just an excuse. Luca, who’d never even paid for groceries, couldn’t possibly have afforded any of this.

Luca was an artist through and through, always wrapped up in something romantic or creative. The money might have been nonexistent, but I believed in supporting his dream. At least one of us got to chase one.

So I became the breadwinner. I didn’t enjoy those shifts at the coffee shop or the boutique, but it wasn’t like I had a choice.

In this economy—with its relentless job shortages—a young woman who’d dropped out without a degree didn’t have many options. These jobs, at least, would help cover the mountain of bills this month… and chip away at my boyfriend Luca’s debts.

"How exactly are you planning to pay for it?" I couldn't believe it. Was he seriously planning to use that pathetic excuse to cover up the fact that he'd cheated on me… with my best friend?

If the ache in my chest hadn't been so sharp and real, I might have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. Just months ago, Luca had taken out a loan to self-fund his art exhibition. He had poured his heart and soul into it, and the subsequent failure and the debt it incurred had nearly crushed

And I, the ever-dutiful girlfriend, I'd even sold my mother's heirloom to cover the bulk of what he owed.

 “I have a confession to make. My family's rich. My father is Sebastian Rossi.” He said it so casually that it took a few seconds for his words to sink in.

Sebastian Rossi. Anyone who lived in this city knew that name. He wasn’t just wealthy—he was the youngest, most elusive billionaire on the social radar, and half the blocks in the city’s core belonged to the family's vast and old portfolio.

"But... your last name isn't Rossi."

"I took my mother's name," he said, his voice dropping flat. "When I chose to leave."

"I'm so sorry, Eleanor; What Luca said is true, we didn't mean for you to find out like this," Chloe spoke up for the first time. Before I could press further.

My heart sank even deeper. So if this wasn’t a lie, it meant Chloe had known the truth about my boyfriend before I did.

"I don't understand any of this... When did you know? And why didn't you tell me? If this is some kind of joke, I have to say it's not funny. At all."

“It was a test, okay? Before we took the next step, I needed to know you loved me for me, not the money. And you proved that—"

"A test." The words tasted like acid. “You never once worried about the rent or the groceries—fine. But last month, when I sold my mother’s necklace, the only possession I have of her… you could have covered that debt yourself. Why didn’t you say anything?”

"I thought you were joking about the necklace," he continued, his tone shifting toward defensive. "You were so casual about it. I didn't know it actually meant that much to you. And I never forced you to do anything—you made those choices yourself. That's not my fault."

My mouth fell open. “You can't be serious.” The tears finally broke free, tracing hot paths down my cheeks.

The stares and hushed whispers from the other salesgirls swam around me, muffled and distant as if through a thick pane of glass.

My face burned as if I’d been slapped. But one truth came through, sharp and clear: I needed to leave.

Whether Luca had cheated or simply hidden his wealth didn’t matter anymore. One thing was certain—our entire three-year relationship had been built on a lie.

My hands shook as I reached for the silver necklace at my throat. A gift from Luca last Christmas. I unclasped it and placed it on the glass counter between us.

It looked thin and cheap compared to the wealth he said his family had.

"Don't be like this—" Luca started, but Chloe cut in smoothly. "Eleanor, don't make a scene out here. Why don't we all take a breath? We can sort this out later."

"No, it's over."

He shut his mouth.

Cowardice on his face. On every feature I once found charming.

Today was my first and last day. There was no way I could continue working here after this humiliation.

I ignored the scandalized expression from my manager, and the other girls whose names I'd never know as I headed for the door mid-shift and heartbroken.

I shivered when I realized that I'd forgotten my coat, but I couldn't go back inside and risk seeing my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend again.

I walked without direction. My feet carrying me on autopilot while my mind tried to process the wreckage of my life.

In just a few minutes, everything I thought was real had crumbled.

My reality completely altered.

Three years. Multiple jobs. And I didn't even get a formal breakup.

All for nothing.

I found myself standing outside a skyline building. I realized it was a hotel—The Meridian. One of those places I never really looked at because I knew I couldn't afford it. A bar was attached to the ground floor. Its windows glowing warmly in the damp evening.

Without thinking, I entered the place.

Maybe a drink would help.

I slid onto a barstool and ordered whiskey, neat.

It came immediately. I threw it back. The burn was a welcome distraction.

"Another, please."

The second drink went down easier. The third punctuated a silent toast to my own stupidity. The fourth blurred the edges of the betrayal enough for me to breathe.

A pianist sat in the corner playing something melancholic.

I hated it. What did it matter? The music was a Ltrick to make you relax. To let your guard down so that your boyfriend of three years could trample all over your heart.

Eventually, my bladder made its demands known, and I had to pee.

I slid off the barstool with extreme care. The floor was exactly where I expected it to be. Maybe I wasn't too drunk after all.

The ladies' room was at the back, down a short hallway that seemed longer than it probably was.

I was halfway there when the floor tilted unexpectedly. My low heel caught on absolutely nothing.

My stomach lurched. I was going to fall—

Strong hands gripped my waist, steadying me.

"Easy there." The man's breath was warm against my ear. His voice rumbled, deep and slightly amused.

I was steady now but my body was still buzzing from the near fall. My heart pounding roughly.

I was pressed against expensive fabric and solid muscle. When I breathed him in, his scent was more intoxicating than whiskey.

I looked up and up into the face of the most devastatingly attractive man I had ever seen.

But what truly captivated me were his hazel eyes—they held the same color and depth.

Where Luca’s held boyish charm, this man's gaze was knowing. Lit with quiet intelligence. I'd always imagined Luca's might have in ten years.

He was the embodiment of everything I’d ever pictured in a man—the kind you imagine building a life with.  

My heart hammered against my ribs.  

Who was he?