The Betrayed Mafia’s Heir Chapter 9

Posted by Author, ? Views, Released on April 30, 2025

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The private lounge was dimly lit, the scent of expensive cigars lingering in the air. The men seated at the table were some of the most powerful financial backers in the underworld—men who had made their fortunes by choosing the right side.
And tonight, Celeste had made sure they saw which side that was.
She crossed one leg over the other, her posture relaxed but commanding. She had always known how to command a room—not with force, but with quiet, undeniable presence.
“Gentlemen,” she said, letting the word settle. “We all know why we’re here.”
The men exchanged wary glances.
“De Luca is losing their previous grip,” she continued, voice smooth as silk. “The cracks in his empire are showing, and cracks—” she picked up her glass of wine, tilting it slightly, watching the liquid swirl, “—tend to become breaks.”
One of the older financiers, a man named Moretti, cleared his throat. “Stephan De Luca has been reliable for years.”
Celeste smiled. “Was reliable.”
Silence. She leaned forward slightly.
“But now? He’s bleeding money. Losing control. And in this business, gentlemen, a man with no control is a man waiting to be replaced.”
She let the words sink in.
“I’m not asking you to betray him,” she continued. “I’m simply offering you something better.”
Moretti narrowed his eyes. “And what’s that?”
Celeste placed a sleek black folder on the table. She slid it toward him.
Inside were carefully curated documents—records of De Luca’s recent financial troubles, the silent bleeding of his empire, his growing vulnerabilities.
Moretti flipped through the pages, his expression tightening.
Celeste took a slow sip of her wine. “If you stay with him, you’re gambling on a sinking ship. But with me?” She let her smirk grow. “You’ll be on the winning side before the war even truly begins.”
The men shifted in their seats, uneasy but tempted.
She had them.
One by one, they began nodding.
One by one, they began signing away their loyalties.
By the end of the night, Stephan De Luca was standing alone.
* * *
Stephan stood by the fireplace, whiskey in hand, watching the flames flicker. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city beyond his windows.
His phone had been ringing all day.
Moretti. Donati. Several others.
All pulling out of their deals. One by one, like dominos falling.
Stephan exhaled slowly, setting his drink down with deliberate care. The walls were closing in. He knew exactly who was responsible.
“She moves fast,” Lorenzo’s voice broke the silence.
Stephan didn’t turn around.
His father stepped forward, slow and measured, his hands tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit.
His gaze swept over the room, taking in the second empty bottle of whiskey, the untouched documents on the desk, the tension lining his son’s shoulders.