The Real Heiress Mafias Feared

At my low whisper, Chloe's eyes went wide.

The next second, her face was ghost-white. She let out a fake gag.

She clutched her chest. Collapsed into Eleanor's arms. Gasping for air.

“I just... I just feel like I owe you... Why are you threatening me like this...”

“Her spray! Get her nitroglycerin spray!”

Eleanor let out a heart-wrenching scream.

She didn't care about her expensive silk dress. She dropped to her knees on the rug, sobbing uncontrollably.

The Callahan family's oldest son, my brother Victor, stood there. His face was stone.

He ripped off his tie. He barked at the butler. “Call the mob doctor! Now!”

The whole room exploded into chaos.

And me? I just stood there. Quietly.

Watching these stone-cold killers. Panicking over a bad acting job. A fake heart attack.

It was a familiar scene.

When I was sixteen, my first family took me in.

The adopted daughter there pulled the same shit. Cried to get sympathy. Said she'd give up all her territory.

I didn't waste words. I smiled. I called my lawyer. I liquidated all her illegal casinos and smuggling lines. Right then and there.

When I was eighteen, my second family took me in.

The fake heir there slit his wrists for show. Said he wasn't worthy of the family's fortune.

I just smiled again. Took his black Amex. And the keys to the entire armory.

Now I'm twenty.

Third time's the charm, right?

This girl, Chloe... she doesn't even have the balls to scam for turf or slit her own wrist.

All she has are a few gasps. Trying to guilt-trip her way into being the victim.

So... unoriginal.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch?!”

Victor roared.

He stomped toward me. His eyes locked on mine.

“You haven't been in this house for ten minutes! And you're already using your venom to push a patient to the brink of heart failure!” Victor pointed at Chloe on the floor. His eyes filled with pure disgust. “You're just like some low-life street punk!”

I raised an eyebrow.

A punk?

Back in the Bronx, anyone who called me a punk... I cut out their tongues myself. Fed them to the dogs in the East River.

Before I could speak, another arrogant voice cut in.

“She's not just a punk. She's a dumbass with a death wish.”

Julian strolled over, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Looking down on me.

He pointed his chin at me. He used my full name. “Aurora. Listen up.”

He swirled his glass. A cold, threatening smile played on his lips.

“Get on your knees. Now. Apologize to Chloe for scaring her.”

“You don't, and by tomorrow morning, my family makes a public announcement.” He paused. His voice got heavier. “The arms deal between our families... is dead.”

The air froze.

Eleanor stopped crying. Victor's eyes sharpened.

They were all waiting for me to break.

To them, losing this alliance was a death sentence. Especially for the 'long-lost heir' who just got back.

But I just thought it was a joke.

Julian's threat... it just reminded me of something from last month.

Some Mexican cartel boss tried to use a marriage to control me.

Killian—the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, my fiercely protective adoptive brother—put a bullet in his head. Just like that.

Compared to the sound of Killian's gun, Julian's threats sounded like a yapping chihuahua.

I ignored him completely.

I slowly lifted the hem of my black trench coat.

And pulled out the combat knife strapped to my thigh.

Victor's hand flew to the gun on his hip.

I didn't even look at them.

I took a silk handkerchief from my pocket. Head down. I wiped dried blood off the steel.

“Cancel the engagement?” I blew the dust away. I finally looked up. My eyes locked onto his. “Fine.”

Julian froze, his proud smile stuck on his face. “What did you say?”

“I said, get the hell out. Take your garbage alliance with you.” I held the knife, pointing the tip at the main door. “Get out.”

I slid the knife back into its sheath.

“Oh, and one more thing. Chloe's carotid artery was beating at seventy times a minute. Her lips weren't blue from lack of oxygen.”

“If that was a heart attack,” I looked at Chloe, who froze in Eleanor's arms. “Then I suggest the Callahans find a new mob doctor. Because this one can't even spot a fake.”