The Mafia Empire

Her father had been a governor—a former governor. Growing up in such a prestigious family, she had access to things others couldn't even dream of, but she had also seen things they could never imagine. Like her father, for instance. Many believed his frail health in old age was the result of war and years of political battles.

He had collapsed one night, suddenly unable to walk, and when the doctors arrived, they confirmed he would never stand or walk independently again.

She knew, however, that the real reason was his reckless behavior with younger women, even into his sixties. He had lived indulgently and suffered the consequences. Because of this, she turned a blind eye to such matters, having grown used to them, perhaps even accepting them.

Her mayor husband had his own entertainment, and she had hers—like visiting Delier's Art Gallery.

Just as many old men enjoyed the company of younger women, Mrs. Vivian liked young boys, even those who could still be considered adolescents. She enjoyed their youthful energy and innocence, and while this might be considered morally questionable, it didn't cross any legal boundaries.

Delier had sent word that he had a special "gift" for her, which made her quite happy. She felt her investments in these "art pieces" over the years had been worth it. As she left her estate and approached the car sent to pick her up, she froze for a moment when she saw the driver.

Standing beside the car was a strikingly handsome young man in a black and red checkered coat, wearing a gray newsboy cap. Despite his simple, old-fashioned attire, his near-perfect appearance was impossible to conceal.

"What's your name? I've never seen you before," Mrs. Vivian asked, placing her hand on his as she eased herself into the backseat of the car. Her eyes, full of a burning intensity, locked onto the boy's blue ones.

The young driver removed his cap, revealing his well groomed hair. Though it wasn't slick with oil, it was clean and soft. Mrs. Vivian could even smell the unique, masculine scent wafting from him—a scent that could be described as either "well-worn" or the fresh fragrance of a young man just reaching maturity.

Blushing slightly under Mrs. Vivian's predatory gaze, Dave silently cursed Julian several times in his heart before responding in a low voice, "My name is Jon, madam."

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"Jon?" Mrs. Vivian repeated, savoring the sound of his name, then flashed the sweetest smile she had ever mustered. "Are you an Ordinian? But your hair color... I'm sorry, I'm being too forward."

Dave shrugged, smiling with the youthful energy she seemed to crave. "No worries. I'm mixed. A lot of people say that. I'm used to it."

Still lightly brushing Dave's taut and smooth skin on the back of his hand with her fingertips, Mrs. Vivian chuckled gleefully. "Alright then, my apologies. So, are you my driver for today?"

"Yes, ma'am. The previous driver fell ill, and I'm his nephew, here to fill in," Dave said as he gently nudged her further into the car, eager to escape the awkwardness of being flirted with by an older woman in public.

Mrs. Vivian finally released his hand, chuckling with a hint of regret, but she quickly perked up. She now knew what Delier's "special gift" was. A boy like this, she thought, could keep her entertained for at least three years, as long as his appearance didn't change too much as he matured.

Feeling generous, she decided she'd invest in a few more "art pieces" as a reward for Delier's thoughtful gesture.

After closing the door, Dave shuddered slightly before climbing into the driver's seat, driving the car toward Delier's Art Gallery.

The entire ride, Mrs. Vivian remained completely silent, a far cry from her previous impatient demeanor. But the quieter she was, the more nervous Dave became. His heart raced as he silently prayed to the Almighty for his "fate."

It was a forty-minute drive to Delier's estate. After what felt like an eternity, the car finally stopped in front of the gallery.

Dave circled around to open the door for Mrs. Vivian and helped her out. Delier, who had been waiting outside, immediately rushed over.

"What happened to your face?" Mrs. Vivian asked, noticing Delier's bruised and swollen face, her expression full of curiosity.

Delier paused for a moment before laughing awkwardly, "I got hit by a pig!" Dave gave him a side glance, and Delier quickly corrected himself. "Actually, I was robbed. Those brutes were really rough and uncivilized."

Mrs. Vivian smiled as she sized him up. "I'll communicate with Director Pronto. Do you still remember what those people looked like yesterday?" Mrs. Vivian felt reassured by Delier. She knew that when someone learned things beyond their social standing, they either submitted fully or had no choice but to run for their lives.

She wasn't afraid of Delier revealing certain things. The fact that she dared to do such things meant that exposing them wouldn't affect her much.

Furthermore, Delier had been diligently scouting for people for her and other noble ladies, so Mrs. Vivian had grown more attentive. This time it was just a robbery, but what if they had drawn a knife or harmed him in some way? What would they do next time?

Delier eagerly nodded and said, "I sketched their portraits. I'll never forget those faces. The money doesn't matter, but they shouldn't have damaged my handsome face!"

Mrs. Vivian only chuckled at his words. Handsome?

"I am very satisfied with the big gift you gave me. When I leave, hand over the portraits, and I'll take care of it." As she spoke, she lightly brushed off the nonexistent dust from Delier's shoulder. "You've done so much for me. I can't let you suffer, right? Sometimes these things can trip us up."

Dave hesitated slightly before supporting Mrs. Vivian as they entered Delier's art gallery.

Watching the two disappear down the corridor toward the viewing room, Delier suddenly shivered.