2025-11-27 16:29:25The morning sun filtered through the windows of Morning Sunshine restaurant, casting golden streaks across Dante Moretti's table. He sat alone, nursing a cup of black coffee he couldn't afford to pair with breakfast. His stomach growled in protest, but Giulia had rushed him out of their apartment at dawn, insisting he skip his meal. Something about needing the kitchen for party preparations—her birthday was today, after all.
His phone buzzed against the laminated table. An email notification. Dante's heart sank as he read the subject line: "Contract Termination Notice - Golden Fingers Inc."
"Effective immediately..." The words blurred together as his hands trembled. Two years of dedication, late nights, and swallowed pride—gone in a clinical, two-paragraph email.
Dante absently touched the Rolex on his wrist, the weight of it suddenly feeling heavier. It was the only thing of real value he owned, a gift from Giulia during better times. Or what he'd thought were better times.
He needed to clear his head. Standing abruptly, Dante left a few crumpled bills on the table and headed toward La Clotier, the modest clothing store where he worked as manager. The position barely paid enough to cover his share of expenses, but it was honest work. His old mentor, Mr. Romano, had taught him that—don't live beyond your means, especially when times get hard.
The advice echoed hollowly now.
By evening, Dante stood outside the Bronson family mansion, his beaten Honda Civic looking pathetically out of place among the luxury vehicles lining the circular driveway. His breath caught when he spotted the sleek black Audi—he'd recognize that car anywhere. It belonged to Leonardo Greco, Giulia's ex-boyfriend and the man her family had always wished she'd married instead.
Dante's jaw tightened as he approached the front door. Through the windows, he could see the party in full swing—champagne flutes, designer dresses, and the kind of casual wealth that had always made him feel like an intruder in his own marriage.
Inside, the marble foyer gleamed under crystal chandeliers. Dante smoothed down his off-the-rack suit jacket, painfully aware of how it contrasted with the tailored elegance surrounding him.
"Dante!" Marcus Sullivan, one of the other sons-in-law, approached with a condescending smile. "Surprised to see you here. Thought you'd be too busy with... what is it you do again? Retail management?"
"Something like that," Dante replied evenly, scanning the crowd for Giulia.
"Well, thank God I landed that senior position at Hartman & Associates," Marcus continued, not waiting for a response. "Six figures, full benefits. You should really consider pivoting into corporate, Dante. This small-business stuff won't get you anywhere."
Before Dante could respond, James Chen joined them, swirling bourbon in a crystal tumbler. "Marcus, leave the poor guy alone. Not everyone has connections. Some people actually have to work their way up from the bottom." He shot Dante a pitying look that felt worse than Marcus's mockery. "No shame in that, buddy."
Dante's fingers curled into fists at his sides. "Excuse me. I need to find my wife."
He pushed through the crowd, nodding politely at familiar faces that looked through him rather than at him. The Bronsons had never hidden their disappointment in Giulia's choice of husband—a man with more ambition than achievements, more dreams than dollars.
Then he saw them.
Giulia stood near the grand staircase, radiant in a emerald dress that probably cost more than his monthly salary. But she wasn't alone. Leonardo Greco stood beside her, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. As Dante watched, frozen in disbelief, Giulia turned to Leonardo with a smile—the kind of smile she used to give Dante—and kissed him.
Not a friendly peck. A real kiss. The kind that announced ownership.
Dante's world tilted. The champagne glass in his hand slipped, shattering against the marble floor. The sharp sound cut through the ambient conversation, drawing eyes toward him. But Giulia didn't even glance his way. She simply continued talking to Leonardo as if nothing had happened.
"Dante." Mrs. Lucia Bronson's voice was cold as she materialized beside him, her expression one of barely concealed distaste. "I didn't expect you to actually show up."
"It's my wife's birthday," Dante said, his voice hoarse. "Why wouldn't I—" He stopped, his eyes fixed on Giulia and Leonardo. "What the hell is going on?"
Lucia's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Oh, darling. Did no one tell you? How inconsiderate." Her tone suggested she found the situation amusing rather than unfortunate. "Leonardo Greco is the CEO of Golden Fingers. Surely you've heard of him?"
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Ch-112: The Briefing
The briefing room was noticeably smaller than the council chamber, and the difference was not accidental. It had no windows, no architectural flourishes, and no symbolic weight built into its design. The walls were matte and unadorned, the lighting evenly distributed to avoid shadow. It was the kind of space designed to prevent distraction, as though neutrality could be enforced through proportion and restraint.Marena noticed who was missing as soon as she entered.There were no elders present, no ceremonial chairs set apart from the others, and no inherited authority lingering through titles or seating arrangements. The absence was not subtle. It was functional. Whatever influence lineage once carried had been excluded deliberately.A single rectangular table dominated the room. Legal observers sat along one side, their files stacked in precise alignment. Opposite them were the Vale representatives, fewer in number than they had been weeks earlier. At the far end sat several individ
Ch-111: Fractured Rooms
The room did not empty when the discussion reached its natural stopping point, and that absence of closure became the first clear sign that the fracture had already occurred. The elders remained seated, their posture disciplined out of habit rather than conviction, their attention shifting uneasily from one face to another as if someone might speak up with authority if they waited long enough.In the past, meetings had ended in a specific way. Someone had always summarized, assigned follow-ups, or invoked a precedent. This time, none of that happened. The structure that once governed their interactions loosened, leaving them suspended in a moment that no longer responded to ritual.Marena and Dante moved toward the window without asking for acknowledgment. No one stopped them, but no one invited the movement either. The city beyond the glass spread out in reflective layers—rain-darkened streets, traffic bleeding red and white into the pavement, buildings lit unevenly by offices that
Ch-110:Question Asked Too Late
It wasn't technically a meeting, because meetings implied preparation, structure, and an outcome that could be guided. What they convened instead was described as a conversation, a term families like the Vales used when they wanted the appearance of informality without relinquishing control. In practice, it meant that no aides were present to document concessions, no fixers were nearby to intervene if tempers rose, and no donors waited in adjacent rooms to remind everyone of leverage still held. The absence was deliberate. So was the setting.The remaining elders gathered in the smaller sitting chamber overlooking the inner courtyard, a space traditionally reserved for inheritance negotiations, closed-door reconciliations, and the early planning stages of funerals. The room carried the weight of endings disguised as continuity, and every person seated there was aware of the symbolism even if none chose to acknowledge it aloud.Marena sat to one side of the room, positioned just outsid
Ch-109: When One House Falls
The collapse did not begin with sirens or press conferences, nor did it announce itself through emergency broadcasts or hurried official addresses. It began in the quieter way these events always did, through resignation letters prepared by legal counsel instead of handwritten apologies, through public statements that cited “personal considerations” and “health-related decisions,” and through a conspicuous absence of denial where denial had once been reflexive.Silence, in this case, was not restraint. It was concession.By midmorning, every major network had converged on the same framing, not because of coordination but because there was no other version of events that could still plausibly hold.LEGACY BOARD IN FREEFALL AFTER INTERNAL LEAKSThe banner repeated itself across screens, identical in substance even as anchors changed, studios rotated, and commentators layered speculation on top of what were already verified facts.The name attached to the collapse was not the Vale family
Ch-108: The Tribunal
The room had been changed, but the intention had shifted so sharply that Dante felt it the moment he crossed the threshold. The long conference hall of the Vale residence, usually reserved for donors and ceremonial agreements, had been rearranged into something colder. Chairs formed a shallow arc rather than a table. The lighting had been lowered just enough to feel interrogative rather than intimate.This was not a meeting. Rather, a reckoning, staged to look consensual.Marena was already seated when Dante entered.Not beside him. Not at the head of the room. She had been placed slightly behind the arc, off-center, hands folded tightly in her lap. Her posture was composed, but the set of her shoulders told him everything. She had been instructed to observe, not participate.To be spoken about, not spoken with.Dante took the empty chair opposite the arc without waiting for permission.A ripple of discomfort moved through the assembled group.They had come in numbers. Donors with so
Ch-107: What Gets Taken Away
The silence that followed Dante’s last words did not stretch into reflection. It collapsed inward, tightening the air in the room until every breath felt measured and deliberate.A chair scraped against the marble floor.The sound was slow, intentional, and unmistakably controlled.“Enough.”The voice came from the far end of the room, older than Elias’s, carrying the weight of someone who had never needed urgency to command obedience.Marena turned immediately.Her grandmother had risen from her seat.Celeste Vale stood with the aid of a slim black cane, her posture immaculate despite her age. The room instinctively recalibrated around her presence. Conversations that had been murmurs only seconds earlier stopped entirely. Even Elias straightened, his shoulders drawing back as if muscle memory had taken over.Celeste’s gaze moved across the room in a practiced sweep before settling on Marena.“You have embarrassed this family,” Celeste said calmly, her tone devoid of accusation and t
You may also like
Rise of Power: Return of The Pathetic Commoner
Iwaswiththestars75.5K viewsThe rejected Son-in-law
Hunni96.4K viewsThe Return of Doctor Levin
Dane Lawrence142.8K viewsThe Midnight Heir
South Ashan99.4K viewsFrom Broken Husband to Three Sisters’ Zillionaire Heir
Al-Fattah Books7.2K viewsThe Almighty General
Michael Chi 336 viewsTHE HUSBAND THEY BULLIED, THE KING THEY FEARED
Phoenix writes702 viewsThe Forgotten Heir
Bernice Samuel1.6K views