On the night of the family’s grand annual gala, Sebastian was practically vibrating with excitement. He had ordered a feast that could rival any kingpin’s banquet and instructed his consigliere to hand out double shares of the family’s profits to every loyal capo and soldier.

Celeste, all sweetness and smiles, moved from table to table, presenting neatly wrapped envelopes of cash and engraved tokens. Everyone accepted their gifts with gratitude—everyone, that is, except me. When she reached my spot, she shoved me back with surprising force.

“Step aside! Strays like you don’t belong in this family,” she spat.

I blinked, stunned. “What… what are you talking about?” I asked.

Her lips curled into a cruel grin as she tossed a notice across the table. It fluttered to the ground with a crisp slap. “A lowborn nobody like you has no claim to the family’s rewards. Leave before you embarrass the rest of us.”

Behind her, the massive crystal chandelier above reflected a series of projections—images of me entangled in what looked like intimate moments with high-ranking dons from rival families.

Finally, the ledger of rewards appeared. Every loyal member had been granted generous bonuses—cash, property stakes, influence—but my column glowed a harsh, unforgiving red zero.

I clenched my fists, staring up at Sebastian, who lingered nearby, silent and watchful.

“You’re really going to exile me… tonight?” I asked, voice tight with controlled anger.

The crystal continued cycling through the compromising images: me laughing with other family heads, sharing a toast, and in one humiliating shot, caught in an embrace as I stepped into a private office with one of them.

Sebastian finally tore his eyes away from the screen and gave me a cold, unreadable look. He said nothing.

“I asked you a question,” I pressed again, sharper this time. “Are you sure?”

The room went quiet. Every capo and soldier’s gaze was on him now, a mixture of fear and awe. Sebastian ignored it all, stepping forward until he loomed over me. His voice was ice scraping stone.

“Arwen,” he began, each word deliberate, “what right do you have to remain in this family? Every ounce of this family’s power comes from effort… except yours.”

“Is it not enough that I provide? That I’ve been loyal to you? That I’ve given you everything?” I shot back, trembling with fury. “Is that why you humiliate me in front of the whole family? Don’t tell me these capos are the reason you keep your distance instead of taking what I offered you!”

He pulled a stack of contracts from his coat and slammed them against my chest. The edges cut into my skin, and when I touched my cheek, warm blood stained my fingers.

“They say it was noble to raise the family’s influence in the city,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “But I will not allow a disgrace like you to tarnish it—even if you are meant to be mine.”

I looked up at him, steadying my shaking limbs. Surely he could see the truth if he just looked past the images. “Sebastian, you know me. My achievements come from my own grit and strategy. Nothing in those photos—nothing—changes that.”

Celeste’s laugh cut through the tension, dripping with venom. “Your own hard work?” she mocked. “And what kind of work would that be? Schmoozing rival dons? Everyone knows exactly how ‘close’ your… partnerships go.”

Snickers and outright laughter spread across the room. Some soldiers murmured their agreement, pointing at me as if I were a cornered mark.

I ground my teeth together, forcing myself to remain composed. “Those images mean nothing. My dealings with them were strictly business—alliances, nothing else.”

“Business, you say?” Celeste scoffed, picking up the photograph from the floor—the one showing a man’s arm around my waist as we entered the office. “Then explain this one. How do you justify it?”

She leaned closer, lips twisted in cruel amusement. “This comes from a crystal vid. Should I show everyone the full sequence?”

I studied the image for a heartbeat, then suddenly laughed, low and relieved. The man in the picture wasn’t a rival don—it was my older brother, testing me during initiation training.

That night, I stumbled back to my apartment, drunk with frustration and humiliation. I meant to call Sebastian to come fetch me—but instead, I ended up calling my brother.

It just so happened that my brother had come from Emperor Bay that evening, sent by our parents to reason with me and stop me from being so stubborn. He arrived just in time to drag me away from a group of capos who clearly had ill intentions toward me.

Who would have thought that simply taking me to a safe hideout to rest would be intercepted by someone with a hidden agenda?

No wonder Sebastian had been acting so distant ever since that night—cold at times, yet forcing himself to appear warm and approachable.

It turned out he had been bottling up his feelings all along. He had waited until I had secured the allegiance of key families and quietly leveraged my family’s influence to help him claim the leadership position he wanted for his own territory. Tonight, finally, he chose to explode.

I couldn’t help but feel hurt by his lack of trust.

And yet, he was also the first man I had ever truly fallen for. I didn’t want this misunderstanding to tear us apart.

Even more, I didn’t want my parents to learn that my first true, consuming love had ended before it ever really began. After all, I had fled Emperor Bay to escape the marriage they had planned for me.

I wanted the freedom to choose my own partner, to stand as an equal beside someone, not be trapped in a loveless alliance orchestrated for power. But I had never confided this to anyone—not even Sebastian.

I feared that if he discovered I was the heiress of the Elite Circles, he would feel crushed beneath the weight of my status, insecure and overwhelmed.

Since childhood, every man around me had only ever wanted me for my position. I despised those calculated displays of affection, those compliments dripping with hidden agendas. But Sebastian—when he looked at me, his eyes held nothing but stars.

The memory of how perfect things had been made a bitter laugh escape me.

“What are you laughing at?” Sebastian’s frown cut through me, his voice sharp with disdain. “How can you laugh at a time like this?”

I lifted my head, holding his gaze without flinching. “Do you honestly think I climbed to the top by sleeping with other dons?”

“Then what else have you done?” he sneered, his voice icy. “Tell me—what else could you have done that deserves any respect?”

It felt as if invisible hands had squeezed my heart, tightening until every breath became a struggle.

I drew in a steadying breath and spoke slowly. “The man in that image… is my brother.”

“Your… brother?” Celeste’s laughter rang sharp and cruel. “Do you take us for fools? A ‘sworn brother’ your real brother? Or is that what you call every man you deal with? Must admit, that does make things… more interesting!”

The laughter around me grew louder, sharp and mocking; someone even whistled mockingly.

Sebastian’s eyes were ice. “Enough,” he said, voice cutting through the noise. “Stop humiliating yourself. Take your exile notice and leave. From this moment, you no longer exist to me or to this family.”

I gripped the letter tightly, feeling only emptiness crawl through me. For five years, I had hidden my true identity, living as a low-profile operative in his organization, working tirelessly to help him rise to power.

And now, after personally laying the path to his dominance, he was ready to cast me aside like a used tool. I could endure loss—but I would not be made a fool. The last five years of my youth might have been wasted on an ungrateful Don, but I would not break.

“Sebastian… you’ll regret this,” I whispered, low and deadly.

Sebastian’s reaction was laughter, sharp and mocking, as though I had just made the world’s most absurd joke.

“Regret?” he barked. “The only thing I’ll regret is ever meeting a faithless heiress like you!”

He extended his hand toward Celeste. The two exchanged a triumphant smile and strode together to the center of the ballroom.

It was only then that I noticed—their matching ceremonial attire, a designer set of dark tailored suits and a flowing gown of deep crimson. He raised their joined hands high, his voice loud and commanding over the gathered family heads.

“Tomorrow marks the most crucial day in the history of our territory—our ascension! None of this would have been possible without the effort of every capo and soldier here. Together, we shall continue to rise to greatness!”

The room erupted in cheers, the walls shaking with applause and the clinking of glasses, the air electric with loyalty and ambition.

The endless praise for Sebastian and Celeste, hailed as the golden couple of the family, rang in my ears like grinding metal. Sebastian’s gaze swept over me, indifferent, as if I were nothing more than a shadow slipping through the grand hall. I felt utterly invisible, a ghost among men who had once claimed to respect me.

Staring at the man I had devoted five years of my heart and loyalty to, it finally hit me why my parents had always warned me about my judgment. They were right—I had been blind, hopelessly blind.

I hadn’t realized that Celeste, his ever-loyal partner-in-waiting, had been entwined with him all along, hiding in plain sight while I poured everything into his rise.

Being a Frost had never made me incapable of maneuvering through the treacherous corridors of power. I had the cunning to lift him to the pinnacle of our family’s influence, and just as easily, I could tear him down from the heights he now occupied.

Clutching the resignation papers in my hand, I started to leave that suffocating room of deceit, determined to reclaim some control over my own life.

But as soon as I stepped forward, Mr. Webb, the family’s consigliere, materialized before me, a false smile plastered on his face.

“Arwen,” he said, adjusting his glasses with a practiced air of authority, his tone a thin veneer of civility over steel. “No need to rush off just yet. Before stepping down, you’ll need to sign a declaration affirming that none of your actions while under this family’s roof continue to affect our business. You’ll also be required to sign a binding non-compete clause—preventing you from leveraging your connections to steal clients or allies once you leave.”

Not long ago, I had been Sebastian’s partner, respected and feared, my ability to broker alliances earning me the deference of everyone in the room. Mr. Webb had once bowed to me, addressing me as “Mrs. Veylor” with every ounce of calculated reverence. That time had passed. Now, he looked down at me with a smug, self-satisfied grin, as if diminishing me could restore his own sense of power.

I studied his pathetic display and replied, voice cold as steel. “A declaration? A non-compete? And why, exactly, would I ever sign either of them?”

His smile vanished, replaced with a hard, sharp edge. “Because of your dirty little schemes. The family has already shown mercy by not pressing charges. Do not mistake our restraint for weakness.”

I laughed, bitter, sharp, and unrestrained. “Dirty schemes? Evidence? Or are you referring to those conveniently misinterpreted images?”

Celeste sauntered forward, heels clicking on the polished marble floor, her manicured finger jabbed toward my phone. “Isn’t the proof right there in your device? Who knows how many contacts you’ve hoarded? Step out of here, and who’s to say you won’t use them one by one to secure a new alliance?”

Before I could react, Mr. Webb lunged for my phone. My fingers brushed it—but then it was gone.

“Give it back!” I snapped.

Celeste snatched it with a triumphant smirk, retreating just enough to mock me fully. “Look at you, so nervous. Clearly, there’s more you don’t want anyone seeing.”

She turned to Sebastian, prompting him to try unlocking it. They tested every possible code—his birthday, mine, even the day we had first acknowledged each other as partners in the family—but the device stayed locked. Sebastian’s patience snapped. He ripped the phone from her hands and barked at the security men to restrain me.

He tried the facial recognition feature—but multiple failures forced the system to default to the passcode.

“What’s the password?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.

Since the day we had formally aligned, the passcode had always been the date he first admitted his feelings. I could almost smile at the irony—he had forgotten. Not surprising.

Failing to access my phone in front of the family only deepened his humiliation. His pride crumbled, his expression darkening as a storm of rage built within him, second by second.

“You keep insisting those photos were a misunderstanding—so why change your password?” he spat, irritation heavy in every word.

“It’s the date you first confessed to me,” I said, calm, steady.

Sebastian froze, struggling to recall that moment. His expression twisted into a chaotic swirl of confusion, anger, and something dangerously close to regret—a masterpiece of emotion undone.

I wrenched free from the guards’ grip, snatching my phone back. Sebastian watched in silence as I unlocked it effortlessly. His lips parted, as if to speak—but no words came. The tension between us hung heavy, like a winter storm frozen over the family estate.