Too Late, My Mafia Heir Ex

a

hing. I knew that. It was just a ghost,

of a familiar, throaty laugh drifts from a nearb

wasn't just about not snitching to the cops. It was about discretion. Honor. Not behaving like a common street thug in an alleyway, especially not with your side piece when yo

n disgust. There's no jealousy left,

beside it. He stumbles out of the alley, buttoning his shirt, hi

if I hadn't just witnessed him defiling our

are, I say yes. I don't know why. Maybe I needed one last

ip-a venture I know is funded by Reed family money from their illegal operations. Ethan keeps glancing at

s voice light. "W

answer, the w

runch of metal. It wasn't an accident. It was a message. A demonstration for a rival family, and we were the p

e paint the scene in stark, terrifying strobes. Ethan's Soldiers are already ther

into the car. "W

" I manage to say. "I think

t Chloe, who is sobbing hysteri

ld and commanding. "Take her

ture mother of the heir. He is doing it in front of his men, in front of stra

r, strapping her onto a gur

dull throb compared to the cold, dead knot forming in my

he night, I know with chilling certainty that whateve

ed in the wreck