My BF’s Her Sub, I Inherit Mafia

My boyfriend Niels Nicholas's mistress, Helena Rossetti, sent me a picture meant to provoke me. Her body was covered in kiss marks. In the full-length mirror beside her, I saw Niels, the man who had always acted so arrogant and controlling, kneeling on the floor with his shirt slightly see-through, looking up at her obediently as he catered to her every whim. But Helena wasn't just a mistress. She had a much prettier title. She was his first love. I didn't curse her out, and I didn't call Niels to demand an explanation. I simply canceled the anniversary celebration we had planned for tomorrow night, feeling nothing but disappointment. "Yes, we don't need a private booking anymore. Just reserve a table for us." "Of course, ma'am, but there will be a cancellation charge." The amount they quoted was expensive. But to me, it was nothing more than a minor expense. More humiliating photos flooded my phone one after another. The large bed where Niels and I had held each other every night for three years was now a disaster, stained with the undeniable evidence of what they had done. Helena's message was filled with ridicule. Helena: He only spends money on you because he has more than enough to spare. But with me, Niels isn't the powerful CEO everyone admires. He's just a tame puppy who only begs for my attention whenever I call. How sad! You can't even hold on to your own man. I didn't bother replying. I closed the app and dialed a private number connected to Eastvale Coast. The call went through immediately. Before the other person could speak, I said, "Tell my father the inheritance ceremony will continue as scheduled. I'll be there." The person on the other end went silent, clearly caught off guard. My father's advisor finally spoke with caution. "Ms. Leone, if you choose the path you think is right, the boss will be disappointed, and the family will lose face." I paused for a moment. My sharp fox-like eyes narrowed. "No. I'm going back to take command of those troublemakers." For three years, everyone in the organization had thought I was a fool consumed by love. After a short silence, the response came with absolute certainty. "The family aircraft will be ready whenever you need it!" The Maybach headed toward the villa district of Vandell City as D.T.M. played softly through the speakers. I was the one who called Niels first. The phone rang several times before he finally picked up. "What is it?" Niels's voice was low and husky, carrying a suggestive edge. "Babe, I'm almost home." I spoke to him in the same sweet tone I always used. "This trip was amazing. I'll tell you everything when I see you later!" The faint clinking of a metal bell on the other end suddenly disappeared. Niels immediately sounded flustered. "Didn't you say you were coming back next week?" "Tomorrow is our anniversary. Of course I had to come home and spend it with you!" I let out a soft hum, then deliberately pressed him. "Are you doing something behind my back? Shouldn't you be happy that I'm coming back?" "No, um, I am happy. How much longer until you get here?" His voice suddenly became low and tense, like he was desperately trying to hide something. Then a woman's gentle laugh drifted through the phone. It was soft, alluring, and impossible to ignore. A few catlike meows followed, along with the faint sound of water dripping. My fingers tightened around the phone, my knuckles turning white. My expression turned cold as I reached over and raised the volume of the music in the car. ♪Betrayed me, but baby in my eyes♪ ♪You've di-i-i-i-i-i-ied♪ ♪You're dead to me♪ The furious voice of the male singer echoed throughout the room. I asked in a calm tone, "What are you doing?" "I was washing my hands." Niels forced himself to sound composed, but I knew exactly what was happening on the other side of the call. The call duration displayed on the screen had already gone past five minutes. I quietly listened to their little performance. "You'll see me in 20 minutes." Niels let out the low, husky sound I had always loved. He said, "I love you, Babe. Don't rush. I'll be waiting for you at home." A powerful wave of disgust rose inside me. I couldn't tell whether that cheap "I love you" was his way of praising Helena or his pathetic attempt to make amends for betraying what we had. After ending the call, I saved the recording. After spending more than twenty years surrounded by the mafia world, the family's rules had already been engraved into my soul. I always repaid grudges, and I never spared anyone who betrayed me.