I Took a Slap for a Humiliated Old Woman—Then Her Mafia Boss Son Uncovered the Woman Trying to Steal My Entire Life...

Adrian Moretti sat on the small velvet sofa in the back office of Brooks & Bloom, his long legs crossed, drinking a cup of chamomile tea that Kayla had poured for him with trembling hands.

Two of his men—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed individuals in dark coats—stood outside the front door of the shop like gargoyles, shielding the windows from curious passersby.

On my desk sat a thick black leather binder that Adrian’s team had assembled in less than eight hours.

I turned the pages, my eyes burning as I scanned legal documents, corporate filings, bank statements, and forged signatures.

“This is impossible,” I breathed, staring at a land deed for a twenty-acre estate in Lake Forest. “My father’s will was settled three years ago. He left the estate to Chloe and her mother.”

“Your father’s original will was never filed,” Adrian corrected smoothly, taking a sip of his tea. “The will that was presented to the probate court three years ago was a forgery executed by your stepmother’s attorney.”

He pointed a long, clean finger at a document on the left page.

“Six months ago, an audit of the Sterling family trust revealed an uncollected trust account left by your paternal grandmother,” Adrian explained. “It contains forty-two million dollars in blue-chip stock and real estate holdings. Under the terms of the trust, the funds can only be released to the eldest biological child of Richard Brooks who maintains an active, self-sustaining business in the city of Chicago.”

I stared at him, my mouth slightly open. “Me.”

“You,” Adrian agreed. “Chloe learned about the trust nine months ago. But as long as you were running Brooks & Bloom successfully, she couldn't claim the money. So she devised a plan.”

I leaned over the desk, my fingers tracing the timeline printed on the paper.

“She bought the building lease to evict me,” I said, piecing it together aloud. “She paid Vanessa Clark to orchestrate an embarrassing public scene at Bellamy & Rowe to ruin my reputation, ensuring no bank would lend me money to relocate. She framed your mother to make sure the incident went viral as a violent altercation.”

“And while you were dealing with the fallout of the assault charge and the social media backlash,” Adrian added, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly pitch, “Chloe’s lawyers filed emergency paperwork with the probate court claiming you were mentally unstable and unfit to run a business—thereby forfeiting your rights to your grandmother’s trust.”

I sank into my chair, burying my face in my hands.

Forty-two million dollars.

I had spent the last three years skipping meals, sleeping on a cot in the back room of this shop during peak wedding seasons, crying myself to sleep over fifty-dollar electric bills—while my half-sister was using forged papers to steal an inheritance meant to keep me safe.

“Why didn't you just take this to the police?” I asked, looking up at Adrian through my lashes.

Adrian smiled—a sharp, dangerous expression that held zero warmth.

“The police handle legal technicalities, Miss Brooks,” Adrian said. “They move slowly. They allow people like Chloe Sterling and Vanessa Clark to hire expensive defense attorneys, delay court dates for five years, and live comfortably while you suffer.”

He stood up, adjusting his suit jacket, filling the small office with his imposing presence.

“My family does not operate on municipal schedules,” Adrian continued. “Vanessa Clark put hands on my mother. She humiliated her in public. And she used you as a pawn to destroy an innocent life.”

He stepped up to my desk, leaning over until his cold grey eyes were inches from mine.

“My mother wants you to have your shop back,” Adrian whispered. “I want Chloe Sterling and Vanessa Clark brought to their knees. Do you want to fight them, Amelia?”

I looked at the purple bruise reflected in the desktop mirror. I thought about the three brides who had canceled their orders. I thought about the six years of sweat, tears, and blood I had poured into every single brick of this room.