The Ex-Con billionaire war God

The Quinton Deception

Isabella woke before dawn, her stomach churning with anxiety. She'd barely slept, her mind replaying her parents' desperate voices through the thin wall. By the time pale morning light filtered through the apartment window, she'd already showered and dressed in her most professional outfit—a gray pencil skirt and white blouse that had seen better days.

Marco was already awake, sitting at the small kitchen table with a cup of black coffee and his phone. He looked up as she emerged, taking in her nervous energy.

"You don't have to go in today," he said quietly.

"Yes, I do." Isabella grabbed her worn leather bag. "If there's any chance I can help salvage something at the company, I need to try. Besides, staying here will just make me crazy."

"Isabella—"

"I'll be fine, Marco. Really." She forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'll see you tonight."

She was gone before he could argue, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that made Marco's jaw tighten. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through Falco's messages. The acquisition was complete—Vermillion Group now belonged to him through a web of shell companies so complex that even the best investigators would take months to unravel it.

The D'Angelo contract was being reinstated today. Isabella's parents would get their lifeline.

But Oriana... Oriana was about to get a very different kind of news.

Caruso Enterprises occupied a sleek glass building in the business district, all modern architecture and corporate prestige. Oriana Caruso stepped out of her brand-new Mercedes-Benz—a gift from Sam Wagner, hastily given after last night's humiliation—feeling like the world was finally aligning in her favor.

Fifteen million in gifts from the Quinton family. Magnus Quinton himself showing interest after all these years. The Vermillion Group deal practically guaranteed to go to her family now that the D'Angelos were disgraced.

Life was good.

She strutted through the parking garage, her Louboutin heels clicking against concrete, when she collided with someone rounding the corner.

"Watch where you're—" she started, then stopped.

The man was young, maybe thirty, with slicked-back hair and a designer suit that screamed money. A Rolex Daytona gleamed on his wrist—the real one, not a knockoff. His eyes swept over her with appreciation that bordered on hunger.

"My apologies," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a slight European accent. "I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Oriana said, her irritation melting into intrigue. Something about him seemed familiar, though she couldn't place it. "Do I know you?"

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced." He extended his hand. "Matteo Quinton."

Oriana's breath caught. Quinton. The name that had been on everyone's lips last night. "You're... you're from the Quinton family?"

"Guilty as charged." Matteo's smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. In truth, Matteo Russo was a small-time con artist who'd made a career of impersonating wealthy heirs. He'd been in the parking garage looking for his next mark when this beautiful woman had literally walked into him. And now she was looking at him like he'd descended from heaven itself.

"This is incredible," Oriana breathed. "I received the most beautiful gifts yesterday. Were they from you?"

Matteo's mind raced. Gifts? What gifts? But years of experience had taught him to never break character. "Of course they were. Did you like them?"

"Like them? They were magnificent! The jade pendants, the pearl earrings, the diamonds—everything was absolutely perfect." Oriana's cold exterior cracked into genuine excitement. "I wanted to thank you personally, but I didn't know how to reach you."

"Well, fate has a way of bringing people together," Matteo said, his confidence growing. This woman thought he'd sent her expensive gifts. He'd play along and see where it led. "I've been watching you for some time, Oriana. Ever since our college days."

"We were in college together?" Oriana's brow furrowed slightly.

"Magnus and I are cousins," Matteo improvised smoothly. "He talked about you constantly. I decided it was time I made my interest known."

"Your interest?" Oriana's pulse quickened.

"I don't do anything halfway, Oriana." Matteo stepped closer, his voice dropping to an intimate register. "When I want something, I go after it. And I want you."

Oriana felt heat rise in her cheeks. This was better than she'd hoped. Not just Magnus Quinton showing interest, but his cousin too—and Matteo was here, in person, pursuing her actively.

"Actually," Matteo continued, sensing her interest, "I've just completed a rather significant business acquisition. Perhaps you've heard of Vermillion Group?"

Oriana's eyes went wide. "Vermillion? The eighteen billion dollar company?"

"Twenty-five billion, actually. That's what I paid for it this morning." Matteo watched her reaction with satisfaction. He had no idea what Vermillion Group was, but her response told him he'd struck gold. "I wanted to establish my business presence in the city. Show you I'm serious about building a future here."

"You bought an entire company... to impress me?" Oriana's voice came out breathless.

"Is it working?" Matteo's smile turned roguish.

"My God." Oriana pressed a hand to her chest. This was beyond her wildest dreams. Salvatore Wagner's billions suddenly seemed paltry compared to a man who'd drop twenty-five billion on a whim. "Matteo, I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll have dinner with me tonight."

"Yes. Absolutely yes." Oriana's mind was already racing ahead. The Quintons were one of the five wealthiest families in America. Matteo Quinton represented more power, more prestige, more everything than Sam Wagner could ever offer.

"Actually," Oriana said, her voice taking on a calculating edge, "there's something you should know. My family—the Caruso family—we've been trying to secure a cooperation agreement with Vermillion Group. Twelve billion dollars over five years."

"Have you?" Matteo's expression didn't change, though internally he was scrambling to understand what she was talking about.

"It's absolutely vital for our business expansion," Oriana continued, moving closer to him. "But there's been some... complications. My sister made a terrible decision yesterday, married some convict, and it's damaged our family's reputation. I was worried it might affect the Vermillion deal."

Matteo saw his opening. "Oriana, darling, if you're worried about a business deal, don't be. I own Vermillion now. Consider the contract yours. In fact..." he pulled out his phone, pretending to type something, "I'll have my people draw up papers giving shares to your entire family. Call it an engagement gift."

"Engagement?" Oriana's heart hammered.

"Too presumptuous?" Matteo raised an eyebrow. "I tend to move fast when I see what I want."

"No, not at all." Oriana's cold indifference was completely gone now, replaced by naked ambition and desire. "I think you and I are going to get along very well, Matteo Quinton."

From across the parking garage, Marco Benedetti watched this exchange with disgust. He'd come to ensure the D'Angelo contract details were properly filed, but instead he'd witnessed Oriana falling for an obvious fraud.

He recognized Matteo Russo. The man was a known con artist in international circles—he'd impersonated everyone from oil barons to tech moguls, leaving a trail of scammed victims across Europe. Marco had never bothered to have him dealt with because Matteo usually targeted people who deserved to be scammed.

But watching him manipulate Oriana was almost too perfect.

"Matteo, you have to meet my family," Oriana was saying, her hand now resting possessively on his arm. "My father will be thrilled. And we're having a small gathering tonight to celebrate some business news. You should come."

"I wouldn't miss it," Matteo assured her. "Though I'll need to make a few calls first. When you buy a company worth twenty-five billion, there's always paperwork." He had no intention of making any calls, but it sounded good.

"Of course, of course." Oriana was practically glowing. "Oh, this is perfect. Wait until everyone sees us together. Wait until Salvatore Wagner realizes what he's lost."

"Salvatore Wagner?" Matteo filed the name away. "Should I be jealous?"

"Please." Oriana waved dismissively. "He's nothing compared to you. Old money, but nowhere near Quinton levels. And his son Sam is so... conventional. Boring, really."

"And you don't do boring."

"I do ambitious," Oriana corrected, her eyes gleaming. "I do powerful. I do men who change the world with a single decision."

"Then you're going to love being with me," Matteo said, sealing the lie with a confidence born of years of practice.

They walked toward the building together, Oriana chattering excitedly about her family, the business, her plans for the future. Matteo nodded along, making mental notes of everything she said. The more information he gathered, the easier it would be to maintain the deception and extract whatever value he could from this situation.

"Oh, there's my pathetic sister," Oriana said suddenly, her voice dripping with contempt.

Isabella was entering the building through a side door, her shoulders hunched, clearly trying to avoid attention. She looked exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep.

"Isabella!" Oriana called out, her voice sharp. "Come here. I want you to meet someone."

Isabella's face went pale, but she walked over slowly. Her eyes widened when she saw Matteo, taking in his expensive suit and confident bearing.

"This is Matteo Quinton," Oriana announced triumphantly. "Heir to the Quinton fortune. He just bought Vermillion Group—for twenty-five billion dollars—and he's giving shares to our family."

"Quinton?" Isabella's voice came out weak.

"That's right." Oriana's smile was cruel. "You see, sister, while you were throwing away your life on a convict, I was securing our family's future. Matteo and I are practically engaged already. He's everything you'll never have—wealth, power, sophistication."

"Congratulations," Isabella managed, but her eyes held doubt. Something about this man seemed off.

"Don't bother congratulating me," Oriana snapped. "You've done enough damage. In fact, you should stay away from tonight's family gathering. I don't want your criminal husband embarrassing us in front of Matteo."

"I wasn't planning on coming," Isabella said quietly.

"Good. Know your place." Oriana turned back to Matteo, her expression softening instantly. "Come on, darling. Let me show you our offices. Wait until you see the executive suite—though I'm sure it's nothing compared to Quinton headquarters."

"I'm sure it's lovely," Matteo said smoothly, offering Oriana his arm.

They swept past Isabella without another glance, leaving her standing alone in the parking garage. She watched them go, that uneasy feeling growing stronger. There was something wrong about that man, something that didn't quite add up.

But Oriana was too dazzled by his supposed wealth to notice.