The Billionaire's Mistake (Anya and Daniel)



Eric drew a sharp breath through his nostrils, leaning forward to grind out his cigarette amid the groaning protests of the buttery leather beneath him. "You always were too damn quick for your own good," he growled. A humorless grin twisted his mouth. "Yeah, pride goeth for that fat fuck after all. Tried to hire out an unassuming hit on what he must've assumed was a small piece of the Shaw outfit, only for it to turn out he put a bull's-eye right between Mathew's new wife's eyes."

He shook his head in disgust while Liliana blinked in surprise, her delicately arched brows shooting skyward.

"A wife? When in Dio's name did that ruthless bastardo finally settle down?"

Her imagination conjured forth visions of the infamous Mathew Shaw escorting a glamorous, bejeweled woman worthy to stand at his side as head of his shadowy empire. The image caused a jealous flare of resentment to bloom in the pit of Liliana's belly, deepening her scowl.

Eric huffed a dark chuckle, lips parting to reveal a slightly wolfish smile. "Well there's the thing, sorellina. From what I hear, this wife of his is some dolce piccola attrice he plucked from the gutter, showered in diamonds and furs to remake as his personal escort and arm candy."

Liliana's grip tightened fractionally around her glass at that proclamation. So Mathew had chosen himself some vapid, useless ornament to parade around, had he? She couldn't deny the flicker of vindictive satisfaction at knowing this mystery woman was likely to have the constitution of wet paper. A far cry from the tigress she often envisioned matching the brutal crime boss's own nature.

"And what of the wolves?" she prompted, sipping her amaro to cover the slight thickening of her voice. "Let me assume Don Gambino's coffers ran dry once more?"

Eric nodded grimly. "Their attack teams hit the new missus's convoy on the way to the hospital this morning. Now the few survivors are spending eternity pushing up zinnias in an unmarked mass grave courtesy of the Shaw family's lethal retribution."

That caused Liliana to snap upright in her seat, eyes sparking with ire. "On his home territory? And now la famiglia has directly paid blood tribute for this...signora Shaw?"

"Looks like those wolves over-reached after all," Eric remarked blandly, albeit with a twinge of respect tingeing his gruff timbre. "Should know better than to strike the serpent when you poke at his mate's nest."

"No..."

Liliana shook her head adamantly, obsidian curls bouncing against the sharp column of her throat as she rose gracefully to her feet. Placing her empty tumbler back on the tray with a decisive thunk, she turned her back on Eric and strode toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the estate's manicured grounds.

"You misunderstand, fratello," she murmured in a voice that somehow managed to resonate with chill command while barely rising above a whisper. "Mathew Shaw would never permit something as precious as a true mate into the bloody heart of his world. No, this wife is nothing more than an ill- advised infatuation, a mere plaything. He may have struck down the wolves snarling at her heels...but make no mistake, he has discarded their carcasses all the same."

Her delicate hands smoothed across the impeccable lines of her silk sheath dress as she squared her shoulders. "I will simply have to pay a visit to this new...signora Shaw. See for myself whatitch motivates a king's folly."

At the city hospital's pediatric recovery ward, the day continued to unfurl in blessed tranquility for Vivian. The danger and crisis of the morning felt like another world entirely compared to the serene scene surrounding her niece's bedside. She loved to watch her sleep.

Maya remained sound asleep, aided by the lingering sedation from her procedure. Nurses checked in every half hour to monitor her vitals and intravenous medications. Each time they emerged with a soft smile and a reassuring nod to indicate everything was proceeding perfectly according to plan.

For Vivian's part, she was simply content to bask in quiet stillness, curled up in the overstuffed recliner beside Maya's bed as the sun tracked across the sky beyond the windows. Never before had a silent, unremarkable hospital room felt so much like sacred ground.

So intent was her focus upon Maya's sleeping form that the gentle rap of knuckles against the doorframe startled her upright, heart leaping into her throat. Vivian's head whipped around, her tangled chestnut tresses spilling across her shoulders, only for her shoulders to sag in relief.

"Oh...it's just you," she breathed, offering Mathew a weary albeit warm smile as he stepped over the threshold.

"Just me indeed," he replied lightly, carefully carrying an extravagant arrangement of flowers and plush stuffed animals to place on the room's cab surfaces. "I'd heard they were keeping you both on lockdown here and wanted to check in. Make sure my girls were safe and being well looked-after." The undercurrent of protectiveness coloring his tone sent an unexpected thrill lancing through Vivian's heart. She averted her gaze back to Maya, worrying her lower lip between her teeth to prevent a ridiculously disarming grin from surfacing.

As Mathew settled onto the edge of the bed, she finally allowed the churning question that had been plaguing her all day to break free.

"Mathew...you know what happened this morning, don't you?" Her voice was hushed, barely above a whisper.

He didn't even have to clarify, simply meeting her searching gaze with a stoic nod. It was all the confirmation she needed.

"Was I...?" Vivian paused, carefully weighing how to phrase her next words without sounding too presumptuous. Or accusatory. "Was parading me around like that meant as some kind of message? To draw that sort of aggression?"

Mathew's brow creased infinitesimally at that, taking her aback slightly. For the span of several heartbeats, he remained silent, seeming to mull over his response deliberately before speaking.

"You assume my intentions were malicious ones," he said at last. "That exposing you at those public events put a target on your back, and that I used you as some form of bait."

Vivian felt her cheeks grow warm.

***

net

As lunchtime rolled around, Hazel gathered her things to leave for a brief break. She had arranged to take a discreet visit to the private medical facility Marcus was recovering at. Though fraught with risks if anyone caught wind of their meeting, Hazel felt she owed the imposing underworld figure some answers after getting

unceremoniously drawn into his

universe.

She exited the parking garage into the sleek black sedan idling against the curb, Marcus' two burly bodyguards behind the wheel. The dark-haired driver who Hazel recognized as Wolf gave her a silent nod as she slipped into the leather backseat.

"Straight to the hospital, ma'am," he rumbled in a thick Eastern European accent before pulling away from the curb.

Hazel stared pensively out the tinted windows as the cityscape rolled by, her mind alternating between rehashing recent events and bracing for whatever revelations awaited her at Marcus' sanctum. So lost was she in her whirlwind of thoughts that she barely registered the car's sudden acceleration, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a crash. They had been hit.

Wolf tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched in grim determination as he guided the sedan carrying Hazel through the city streets.

As Marcus Green's personally appointed head of security, it was Wolf's sworn duty to ensure the woman's safety at all costs.

After the violent clash at the

etC0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

nightclub, Marcus had deemed it prudent to keep Hazel under the watchful eye of his most elite guardsmen until the situation was fully understood. Wolf both relished and resented such an important

charge - her protection was

-

paramount, but it also painted an

oversized target on all their backs.

His fears proved devastatingly prescient when the first hail of gunfire shredded the rear windshield. Wolf's military instincts kicked in instantly as he bellowed rapid orders to his wingman Nikki in a mixture of English and Russian.