The Mafia Heir Chapter 1

Back in El Tricolor, there's a rule: If I don't get married by thirty, I have to go back and marry the woman my father arranged for me.

When my girlfriend, Stella Ross, heard this, her face filled with complete disdain.

"Arranged marriage? Is your home in some remote tribe? Or are you stuck in the Middle Ages? Alan, quit with these pathetic excuses to force a marriage!"

She let out a mocking laugh and pulled out a ring.

"I was actually planning to accept your proposal and even bought us a pair of rings. But since you're so desperate, I think we both need some space to cool off."

With that, she tossed the ring straight to her assistant, Ethan Parker. The marriage I had waited years for was casually thrown to someone else, just like that ring.

Ethan caught it and shot me a triumphant smirk.

As I stood there, frozen, Stella brushed right past me and walked out of the office, sneering.

The next second, Ethan feigned embarrassment and held the ring out to me, but I didn't glance his way.

"Keep it. I know that's your size anyway," I said.

His smile froze on his face.

I had zero interest in continuing their little game. Before stepping out of the office, I dropped a single line: "Tell your boss we're broken up."

What Stella didn't know was that the father forcing me into marriage was the don of the El Tricolor mafia, and I was his sole heir. And the woman arranged for me was the only daughter of the most powerful mafia don in North Usonia.

* * *

I told my father that I would arrive in El Tricolor in three days. After that, I went back to the apartment I shared with Stella Ross.

I started packing, and just as I zipped my suitcase shut, Stella walked in. She kicked off her high heels and glared at my bags. Her initial mockery instantly turned into impatience and rage.

"Wasn't the scene you caused at the office today enough? Leaving during work hours is one thing, but coming home and keeping up this performance?"

I didn't lose my temper; I just looked straight at her. In her eyes, I was always the one creating problems.

"I left a message with your assistant before I left."

She sneered. "Alan, you're out of your mind! Threatening to break up with me and dragging innocent Ethan into this! Why are you always so hostile toward him? Didn't you train him yourself? Slandering his relationship with me like this will ruin him!"

Hostile? Ruin him? Looking at this woman twisting the truth, I found it absurd.

Back then, I didn't want to take over my family's mafia business, so I took a small sum of cash and fled El Tricolor. I hid my surname, planning to start a new life in Lanford. That was when I met Stella.

At the time, she was a painter overflowing with passion and ideals, but living in complete poverty. I admired her talent and loved her enthusiasm, so I spent the last of my money funding her dream.

We squeezed into a cheap basement apartment, fighting off the world with nothing but love and big dreams. Using the business tactics I had learned in my family, I sold her first artwork at a record price, turning her into a sought-after artist among the wealthy elite.

And Ethan Parker? He was originally just a temp clerk at a corner convenience store.

That day, he was being mugged by thugs, and I happened to be passing by. Looking at his tear-streaked, vivid blue eyes, my heart softened. He reminded me of my younger brother, who died ten years ago in a kidnapping by a rival family.

I didn't just scare off the thugs; I also brought him into the company Stella and I founded. Seeing his deep interest in artwork, I convinced Stella to take him on as an assistant.

I thought I was saving a young man's life and career. Little did I know, he was far more interested in Stella than in painting.

He spent all his energy in the office trying to seduce his boss.

Just last week, he made a fatal and foolish mistake. He completely mixed up the requirements for a high-value custom commission from a long-time client. Extremely dissatisfied, the client demanded to cancel the deal.

Following protocol, I called an executive meeting. I pointed out Ethan's mistake and instructed him to apologize to the client to preserve our reputation.

I didn't even raise my voice. Yet Ethan just clenched his fists, his eyes welling with tears as he looked at Stella at the head of the table, looking deeply wronged.

And for the first time ever in a meeting, Stella lost her temper with me.

"Enough, Alan!"

She slammed the apology letter I had drafted onto the table. "It was just a minor mistake! Is it really necessary to drag Ethan's dignity through the mud? If a client is this unforgiving, then fine. Let them cancel the deal!"

Everyone in the room looked at her in shock.

That long-time client was someone I had painstakingly cultivated and the very first client who had been willing to pay a premium for her art.

"If it were any other client, this wouldn't have been an issue! So, at its core, this is a failure on the sales department. You can't put all the blame on Ethan!"

She looked at me with disgust, pulled Ethan over, and turned to address the room.

"Since Alan, who runs sales, doesn't know how to screen clients, all new client lists will go through Ethan first from now on.

"As for Ethan, he's promoted to my chief secretary. Anyone who has a problem with that can get out right now!"

Standing behind her, Ethan smugly raised his eyebrows at me.

Meanwhile, Stella tilted her chin up, an arrogant glint of excitement in her eyes.

I knew she was thrilled because she had finally put me in my place and forced me to yield. She was tired of hearing people say, "Without Alan, there would be no famous artist named Stella Ross."

She was no longer the girl who used to hold me in that dark, cheap basement, crying and saying, "Thank you for making my dream come true and making my life feel complete."

However, none of that mattered anymore because I had decided to leave.