The Underboss’s Deadliest Mistake

"Genevieve, leave your shoes outside. Don't ruin the carpet. Chloe just bought it at the auction."

I stepped through the front door of the Sterling estate. Eleanor's voice crashed down from the spiral staircase.

She held a steaming mug of herbal tea. She gave her orders like it was nothing.

She didn't look at the bloody red seal on the hostage transfer papers in my hand. She acted like I was just going on a weekend trip.

"Chloe is traumatized. She just fell asleep after her third sedative." Eleanor walked down the stairs in her slippers. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Stay away from the second floor tonight. Don't make a sound. If you trigger another shock, I'll make you pay."

I pressed my lips together and took a breath.

"Eleanor, my name was on that slip," I said. My voice went tight. "The Great Lakes convoy will be at the gates tomorrow morning. They're taking me."

"So what? You grew up in this family. You've seen everything." Eleanor didn't blink. Her tone was cold. "Chloe suffered fourteen years in the slums. Her body is covered in scars. You should share the burden for her."

She didn't wait for an answer. She turned around and told the butler to cut the chandelier lights. Only one dim wall lamp stayed on. She treated me like a plague.

The estate went dead silent.

Maids walked on eggshells down the hall. They took everything to Chloe's room: prescriptions from top psychiatrists, special humidifiers, expensive oils for her anxiety.

I was walking to my death. Nobody offered me a glass of water.

It was two in the morning. I couldn't sleep.

I walked past the study on the top floor. A crack of light spilled from the door, along with muffled crying.

I stopped.

"...Arthur, I'm terrified."

I looked through the half-open wood door. Chloe was sitting right there. She looked completely fine, not sick at all.

She wore an expensive silk nightgown. She looked like a helpless little bird.

Julian, my fiancé, held her in his arms. He stroked her hair with pure tenderness.

My father, the new Don Sterling, sat behind the desk. He blew cold smoke rings from his cigar.

My brother, Marcus, leaned against the fireplace. He tossed a tactical knife in his hand.

Everyone was there.

Except me.

"That tyrant, Nikolai Volkov... I heard last month he ground up a traitor piece by piece and dumped him into a frozen lake." Chloe's shoulders shook. Her tears fell fast. "If Genevieve is dying just to save me, I'd rather eat a bullet right now. I don't want her to hate me forever..."

She reached for the Browning handgun on the desk.

"Stop it, put the gun down!" Marcus grabbed the gun. He sounded panicked and protective. "This isn't on you. You're going to make yourself sick!"

Arthur tapped the cigar ash. His voice was low and merciless. "Chloe, you are too weak. You won't last three days in the Great Lakes. Genevieve is different. She can take the hit. She enjoyed this family's wealth for over twenty years. Taking the fall for us is her duty."

"But... Genevieve is so proud. If she finds out the draw was rigged..." Chloe looked up with wet eyes. She turned to the man holding her. "Julian, she loves you so much. If she finds out you swapped the safe envelope, she'll hate your guts..."

The room went dead silent.

I stood in the freezing draft outside the door. My blood turned to ice.

"She won't." Julian leaned down. He wiped the tears from Chloe's cheeks. "Genevieve holds the Great Lakes blood marker. The late Don earned it before he died. Under underworld law, the Volkovs owe our family a life. No matter how vicious they are, they won't touch whoever holds that marker. They have to treat her like a guest of honor."

He paused. His voice was full of cold certainty.

"Besides, Genevieve always listens to me. Even if she's mad, she'll throw a little tantrum for a month or two. Once she finishes the ceasefire talks with that marker, I'll bring her back myself. She will still marry me."

Marcus let out a dry laugh. "Julian gets it. With that marker on her, Chicago is just a business trip. It's not a death sentence. The old man favored her and kept it secret, but it's time she pays her dues."

Chloe smiled through her tears. She pressed her face against Julian's palm and rubbed against it gently. "As long as Genevieve is safe, I'll do whatever it takes..."

Julian's eyes softened. He patted her back gently. "Stop overthinking. Go to sleep."

Outside the door, my eyes burned dry. Not a single tear fell.

The heartbreak, the absurdity, the fury—it all died in that moment. Only a cold, dead numbness remained.

Every single detail had been calculated.

They dressed up my execution as a noble sacrifice.

All because they believed I held an invincible blood marker.

They had no idea.

Two years ago, Julian was trapped under Nikolai's guns in Chicago for running weapons. I knelt by the late Don's deathbed all night. I signed a transfer agreement in my own blood. I handed that exact marker back to the Great Lakes just to buy Julian's pathetic life.

The blood oath was settled two years ago.

I had nothing left to save myself. My hands held nothing but worthless paper.

I took my hand away from my mouth. I stepped back into the dark and walked back to my room without making a sound.

I pulled open the desk drawer.

The original receipt from the Great Lakes sat inside. It was stamped with the dark red seal of Nikolai Volkov:

[BLOOD OATH SETTLED. MARKER DESTROYED.]

I could still hear the late Don's warning. He told me never to sacrifice everything for a man.

Back then, I answered him with pure conviction: "I trust Julian. He will never betray me."

Time changed everything. In the end, I lost the bet.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh, looked at the paper one last time, and put it back in the dark.