The Mafia's Weakness

CHAPTER 2 - A Bargain of Chains

📖 Chapter 2 – A Bargain of Chains

The storm outside had not yet broken, but Colton Hudson felt the pressure in the air, heavy and suffocating. He stood in his study, the dim glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across rows of ledgers, contracts, and half-empty whiskey glasses. The room reeked of smoke and ambition.

He hated the silence of this house. Evelyn had filled it once with piano music, with warmth and laughter. Monica filled it now with whispers, with schemes, with the shrill echoes of her spoiled children’s laughter.

But silence? Silence was dangerous. It gave him time to think about how small his empire still was.

Hudson & Co. was respectable enough in the world of middle-class business — a chain of suppliers with some modest trade connections. But compared to the towers of the Knights or the Lorenzos, his company was a gutter rat clawing at the feet of kings.

And Colton Hudson had never accepted being small.

The office door opened without a knock. He didn’t need to look up. Monica’s perfume reached him first, sharp and floral, a scent that had once stirred his hunger but now only reminded him of poison.

“She defied you.”

Colton raised his eyes at last. Monica leaned against the doorframe in her velvet gown, her arms folded, lips curved into that smug half-smile she wore whenever she thought she’d won.

“Yes,” he muttered, grinding out his cigar in the ashtray. “She dared.”

Monica’s heels clicked across the floor as she approached. “I told you she would. The girl has her mother’s stubborn streak.”

The mention of Evelyn’s name sent a flicker of irritation through him. “Do not speak of her.”

Monica smirked. “Touchy, are we? You should be grateful. If not for me, you’d still be chained to that saint with her bleeding heart and endless compassion. Compassion doesn’t build empires, Colton. Ruthlessness does.”

His jaw tightened. She was right, though he hated her for it. Evelyn had been soft, too soft, always questioning his dealings, always doubting his decisions. Monica was sharper. Monica knew how to manipulate, to bend, to destroy.

But Monica also wanted more than he cared to give.

“She will marry the Hensley boy,” Colton said firmly, reaching for his whiskey. The amber liquid burned his throat, steadied his rage. “Or she will learn what it means to have nothing.”

“And if she chooses nothing?” Monica asked sweetly, circling his desk like a vulture. “Will you truly cut her off? Throw your own blood to the wolves?”

Colton’s hand tightened around his glass. Blood means nothing if it disobeys.

“She’s a liability,” he said. “A daughter should serve her family, not shame it. If she refuses, she is no daughter of mine.”

Monica’s eyes glittered with approval. “Good. Then we are agreed.”

Before Colton could answer, the clock on the wall chimed the hour. He glanced at it, then reached for his coat. “I have a meeting.”

Monica’s brows lifted. “With whom?”

“Mr. Hensley.”

Her smile returned, slow and serpentine. “Of course.”

—