All Chapters of My Ruthless Mafia Saviour : Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

"We are live outside St. Augustine's Cathedral in Manhattan, New York, where mourners have gathered this morning to say a final goodbye to Liana Hayes, heiress to Hayes Holdings, one of the largest holding companies in the country." The reporter stood beneath a sky the color of wet ash, her coat drawn tight against a wind that carried the first real chill of autumn, and behind her the black town cars lined the curb for what looked like half a mile, their drivers standing beside them with their hands folded and their heads bowed. "Liana Hayes was only twenty four years old, and in three days she was set to be married. Instead, the people who loved her have gathered this morning not to celebrate a wedding, but to mourn a life that ended far too soon." The cameras swept slowly across the crowd, catching men in dark tailored suits staring at nothing in particular and women pressing handkerchiefs beneath their veils, careful not to smudge their makeup even in grief, and it struck any

The morning light spilled soft and gold across the breakfast table at Hayes Estate, catching the crystal glasses and the silver trays no one had bothered to touch properly. Grace sat with a cup of coffee cradled between her hands, still in her silk robe, while Lucas buttered a piece of toast across from her with the unhurried ease of a man who had nowhere urgent to be. A soft knock came at the door before one of the maids stepped inside, her eyes lowered. "Ma'am," she said carefully, "Mr Hayes is refusing to eat again this morning." Grace didn't even look up from her coffee. "That poor thing," she said, the words dripping with false sympathy. "He should be grateful someone's still bothering to feed him at all." The maid hesitated, unsure whether that was meant for her to respond to, then simply nodded and slipped back out of the room. Lucas watched her go before setting his toast down. "When exactly are we ending that little burden," he asked, voice low, casual, as though he

The silence in the room didn't last long. It broke apart the moment Liana found her voice again, and when it came, it came shaking. "No," she said, backing away a step, shaking her head as though the motion alone could rewrite what she'd just heard. "No, they wouldn't do this to me." "They did." Oliver's voice stayed level, unmoved by the gunshot still ringing faintly in both their ears, unmoved by the body slumped against the restraints a few feet away. "You heard him yourself." "No." The word cracked as it left her, smaller this time, less certain, as though some part of her already knew arguing wouldn't change what her own ears had heard. Oliver watched her for a moment before he spoke again, and there was no comfort in his voice, only a kind of hard, practiced honesty that felt almost crueler than sympathy would have. "Don't trust people," he said. "That's the first thing anyone in my world learns. Usually the hard way." Liana wrapped her arms around herself, the concrete co

Oliver read the message three times before he trusted himself to move.Four words. No name attached. No explanation. Just a number he hadn't seen light up his screen in over a year, one that belonged to a man he had long since assumed was either dead or smart enough to have disappeared for good.He sat there for a long moment, the photograph of Emily still resting on the nightstand beside him, the glow of the phone casting a pale light across her frozen laugh, and for a moment it almost felt as though she were waiting too, watching to see what he would do with whatever came next.His thumb hovered over the screen before he typed back two words of his own.Prove it.The reply came faster than he expected, fast enough that his pulse quickened before he even read it.Not over text. Somewhere safe. You know the place.Oliver's jaw tightened. He did know the place. An old warehouse near the docks, one that had belonged to a rival family before he'd taken it apart piece by piece years ago,