- The first bullet had come too close, slicing through the air near her ear, a warning shot—or a miscalculation.
- The second one was a different story, aimed directly at her chest, but Dante’s sharp instincts had yanked her out of harm’s way just in time.
- The glass door behind her shattered, raining fragments down like broken stars.
- “Get down!” Dante’s voice cut through the chaos as their security detail reacted, drawing weapons and forming a defensive perimeter around her.
- But Celeste didn’t move.
- She straightened, adjusting the strap of her dress as if the assassination attempt was nothing more than an inconvenient brush of wind.
- Around her, the restaurant’s outdoor terrace was in a frenzy—high society guests screamed, servers ducked, bodyguards surged forward.
- “Target’s position?” Dante barked into his comm unit.
- “Northwest corner, likely elevated,” came the response.
- A second shot cracked through the night, striking the pavement where Celeste had stood moments before.
- The sound of squealing tires echoed from a nearby alley—their assailant making their escape.
- “Permission to pursue?” one of the guards asked.
- Celeste straightened her designer dress, brushing off invisible dust. Her voice remained steady, almost bored. “Let them go.”
- Dante stared at her. “Let them go? Celeste—”
- “For now.” She met her brother’s concerned gaze.
- Dante pulled her back roughly, eyes wild with frustration. “You could have been shot,” he hissed, scanning the rooftops for any lingering threat.
- Celeste’s expression remained eerily calm as she dusted a stray shard of glass from her arm.
- A thin scratch bloomed red against her skin, insignificant compared to the insult of the attack itself.
- She turned to her head of security. “Find out who pulled the trigger,” she said, voice smooth as silk but sharp as steel. “And make an example out of them.”
- She met Dante’s eyes, her tone darkening. “Even if it was the De Luca family who put their hand on it.”
- Dante’s jaw tightened. “If Stephan—”
- “If Stephan wanted me dead,” Celeste interrupted, her voice cold, “I would have been dead.”
- Dante nodded once, his jaw clenched as he turned to the guards, barking orders.
- The men scattered, and the terrace slowly returned to a forced normalcy—guests gathering their things, security ushering them away.
- Celeste stepped past this, heels clicking against the wet pavement as she walked toward the waiting car.
- Back at the Beneventi penthouse, in her private suite, she stood before the full-length mirror, examining the damage.
- The bullet had torn through the silk of her dress, leaving a clean hole near her ribs. A thin line of blood marked where it had grazed her skin—not enough to cause real damage, but enough to make a point.
- Her reflection stared back at her, different from the woman who had played at being Valerie for so long. Gone was the soft, accommodating facade. In its place stood someone harder, someone who reminded her of her father.
- Someone had tried to kill her tonight. Her body was tense, but not from fear.
- She had felt fear before, years ago, when she was younger—hiding behind doors, watching her mother bleed out onto cold marble floors.
- Back then, she had been powerless. Helpless.
- But tonight? Tonight, she felt something different. Tonight, she felt anger.
- Real, deep, burning rage.
- Anger coursed through her veins—not just at Stephan, not just at whoever had tried to kill her, but at herself.
- She had spent years playing weak, convincing herself it was the smart choice, the safe choice.
- “I was too soft before,” she whispered to her reflection. “That was my mistake.”
- She pressed a hand to her wound, her reflection staring back at her—not as Valerie, the forgotten fiancée.
- Never again.
- * * *
- Inside the grand halls of the De Luca estate, Stephan sat in his office, the dim glow of a whiskey bottle and scattered reports of his only company. He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, letting the tension roll through his shoulders as Marco, his head of security, stood before him.
- The news had reached him almost instantly.
- “We got word,” Marco said grimly. “Someone took a shot at her tonight.”
- Stephan’s fingers tapped against the desk, the only outward sign of reaction. “And?”
- “She wasn’t hit. But it was close.”
- Silence stretched between them, thick as smoke.
- He had expected something like this. It was only a matter of time before someone made a move.
- It should have amused him. It should have been a problem he ignored.
- And yet—
- The idea of her bleeding out on some filthy street made something in his chest tighten. He poured himself a drink, swirling the amber liquid slowly. Thoughtfully.
- He had no doubt she would survive. Still, the warning needed to be sent.
- Stephan turned to Marco, his most trusted man, standing silently in the corner of the room.
- “Whoever did it… tell them next time, they’d better not to miss.”
The Betrayed Mafia’s Heir Chapter 8
The Betrayed Mafia’s Heir Chapter 8
Posted by , ? Views, Released on April 30, 2025
The Betrayed Mafia’s Heir English Novel
Status: Completed Native Language: English
