"Beautiful....And I really want to create a mess....A beautiful mess." His lips brushed against her ear with each word, sending a shiver down her spine.
His words caught her off guard, causing her to burst into laughter. 'You want what?' she managed...
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Taehyung stepped out of the grand hall, his phone buzzing insistently in his pocket. The call was urgent, and he needed a moment of solitude to address it. Meanwhile, Samarah glided into the room, her presence commanding attention. She stood beside her father, Ji-woon, who beamed at her arrival. Behind her, Max and Louie followed, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation. masquaerde
The grand hall hummed with tension, its opulence a stark contrast to the simmering resentment that hung in the air. Isabella, the elder daughter, stood tall—her eyes cold as steel, her black elegant dress a silent proclamation of her authority. She was no ordinary heiress; she was the Mafia queen—the one who ruled the shadows, orchestrated deals, and silenced enemies with a flicker of her gaze.
Samarah, her younger sister, seethed. The coveted CEO position had been snatched from her grasp, and she blamed Isabella. The room seemed to shrink as Samarah stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. "Congratulations, Isabella," she said, her smile brittle. "You've always been Father's favorite, haven't you? The golden child."
Isabella's lips curved, but her eyes remained icy. "It's not about favoritism, Samarah. It's about capability. You're too naive to lead our empire. You'd crumble under the weight of our enemies." but the reality was from the beginning Ji-won never showed any type of favoritism towards any of them.
Samarah's fists clenched. "Enemies? Oh, you mean the ones you created? The blood on your hands stains us all."
Isabella's gaze flickered to the ornate chandelier above. "Blood is the currency of power," she murmured. "You'd do well to remember that."
Max and Louie exchanged glances. They were loyal to Isabella, their allegiance forged in shared secrets and whispered alliances. Max leaned in, whispering, "This is better than any mob movie, Louie."
Louie smirked. "And we're just getting started."
Samarah's eyes blazed. "You think you're invincible, Isabella? The Mafia queen? Well, I'll tell you what you're really good at—manipulation, deceit, and betrayal."
Isabella's laughter echoed. "And what are you good at, Samarah? Whining? Pouting? Daddy's little princess act?"
Their father, Ji-woon, watched silently. His lined face revealed nothing, but his eyes held a lifetime of secrets. He knew the cost of power—the sacrifices, the compromises. He'd seen Isabella's rise, her ascent to the crimson throne. And why he'd chosen her over Samarah.
Samarah's voice trembled. "I won't forget this, Isabella. One day, the shadows will swallow you whole."
Isabella leaned in, her breath chilling. "Try me, little sister. But remember, in this world, there's no room for sentimentality. Only survival."
As the chandelier's crystal shards refracted the dim light, the sisters locked eyes—one fueled by ambition, the other by vengeance. The crimson throne awaited its queen, and Isabella would wear the crown, even if it meant sacrificing her soul.
