The Callahan family mansion, standing resolute in Chicago's elite Gold Coast district, looked like a palace from the outside. To those who knew what happened within its walls, however, it was nothing more than a bloodsoaked fortress. Heavily guarded by dozens of men in black suits-employees of Victor's legal security firm who doubled as the invisible soldiers of The Valerius Ring-the mansion was a symbol of absolute power.
Victor's bulletproof black sedan glided smoothly through the massive iron gates. Once the engine died in the expansive courtyard, Liam was already poised to open the passenger door. Victor stepped out, his jaw set. The lingering rainwater glistening on his expensive suit jacket only deepened the icy aura radiating from him.
"Ensure all units in the outer ring are at alert level one," Victor commanded Liam coldly, his eyes fixed sharply on the mansion's main entrance. "I don't want any disturbances tonight."
"Understood, sir," Liam replied firmly.
Victor strode into the grand building. The steady click of his shoes echoed against the polished Italian marble floors. The silence inside the house was always suffocating, as if every corner of every room were holding its breath, awaiting an order from its master.
Tonight, however, was different. His orders to Carter hours earlier to investigate Vanessa's shifting behavior had pushed Victor's vigilance to its peak.
As his feet hit the secondfloor corridor leading to the master suite, Victor's sharp senses caught something. An unfamiliar scent hung in the air, mingling with his wife's expensive perfume. It wasn't his own cologne. It was the heavy, distinct aroma of sandalwood and menthol tobacco.
The signature scent of Julian.
Victor's dark eyes narrowed dangerously. His mafia instincts flared instantly, sending a surge of adrenaline through his veins. His footsteps suddenly turned as light as a feather, moving soundlessly toward the slightly ajar mahogany door of his bedroom. From that narrow gap, the sound of a flirtatious giggle and a muffled sigh cut through the silence of the night.
Victor pushed the door open slowly, without a sound.
The sight inside the room seared his eyes. On his own massive bed, under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, Vanessa lay in Julian's arms. His wife was wearing a maroon silk nightgown that was already halfopen, while Julian's white shirt lay discarded on the floor. They were so lost in their sickening intimacy, kissing fervently, unaware that the master of the house stood at the threshold.
Click.
Victor deliberately switched on the main bedroom light. The blinding glare instantly flooded every corner of the room, exposing their depravity.
"VVictor?!" Vanessa shrieked hysterically. She scrambled to pull the blanket over her body, her face-thick with makeup-turning deathly pale.
Julian jumped, scrambling off the bed with ragged breaths. Yet, rather than fear, a provocative smirk slowly spread across the younger halfbrother's face once the initial shock subsided.
Victor remained silent. A lethal stillness enveloped the room. He walked closer with a rhythm that was slow yet deadly, like a predator cornering its prey. Each step eroded the distance, making the atmosphere in the room increasingly suffocating.
"You always come home at the wrong time, brother," Julian said, reaching for his shirt casually, eyeing Victor with a look of disdain. "But I suppose this is for the best. You don't have to pretend anymore. Two years of marriage and you couldn't even get her pregnant. You're sterile, Victor. The whole syndicate knows. The highest seat of The Valerius Ring will be mine soon."
Thud!
A raw punch from Victor's right hand landed squarely on Julian's jaw before the man could finish dressing. Julian's body slammed against the marble floor, crashing into a side table and shattering the bedside lamp into pieces.
"Victor, stop! Don't kill him!" Vanessa screamed hysterically from the bed, sobbing uncontrollably at her husband's rage.
Victor didn't care. The anger that had been burning in his chest since his meeting with his father finally found its outlet. Mercilessly, Victor lunged forward, grabbed Julian by the collar, and unleashed his fists repeatedly until his halfbrother's face was slick with blood. Julian tried to fight back, but it was futile.
In the midst of the chaos, the bedroom door was knocked twice. Carter, the trusted assistant tasked with tracking Vanessa, stepped inside with a tense expression. In his hand, he held a clear plastic bag containing a small pill bottle and a lab report.
"Mr. Callahan, forgive the intrusion," Carter said quickly, ignoring Julian, who lay crumpled on the floor. "I've just searched Mrs. Vanessa's private safe in the dressing room and forcibly retrieved her secret medical records from her private doctor."
Victor stopped pummeling Julian. He stood tall, wiping his brother's blood from his hand with a handkerchief. "Speak, Carter."
"Your suspicions were correct. Mrs. Vanessa has never been sterile, and she never intended to give you an heir. This is a bottle of highdose birth control pills she has been taking regularly every day for the past two years. This file proves she intentionally manipulated her fertility to ensure your position in the syndicate would falter due to the lack of an heir," Carter revealed firmly.
Hearing this, Victor's gaze shifted to Vanessa, who was trembling violently on the bed. The elaborate lie had finally unraveled. The excuses of fatigue, the refusal to be touched-it was all part of a rotten plan to topple him from the throne of The Valerius Ring.
"You were taking birth control behind my back... and polluting my bed with this dog," Victor hissed, his voice so low and cold it could freeze blood.
Julian, coughing and spitting blood onto the marble, still tried to provoke him. "If... if you can't provide an heir within a year... Father will oust you! Our plan worked, Victor!"
Victor stepped on Julian's chest with his dress shoe, applying pressure that made the man's ribs crack. "You can dream of my throne in hell, Julian. But in this world, you are nothing but trash."
Victor turned his back on them and shouted with absolute authority, "Liam! Enter!"
Liam entered along with two burly guards who had been standing by outside.
"Drag this bastard off my property, torture him so he remembers what it feels like to crawl beneath my feet, then dump him at the doorstep of the Lorenzo house," Victor commanded emotionlessly. He still remembered that Julian was his halfbrother, which was the only reason he didn't shoot him on the spot.
"Very well, sir." Liam and his men immediately seized the incapacitated Julian, dragging him out through the corridor.
The room now left only Victor and Vanessa, who was still sobbing on the bed. Victor looked at the woman who had been his wife for two years with a gaze more disgusted than if he were looking at a carcass.
"Pack your things now, Vanessa. My lawyer will deliver the divorce papers tomorrow morning. And remember this well..." Victor paused, a murderous aura enveloping him. "If after dawn I see your face or that of your family in the Chicago territory, I will personally ensure your body becomes fish food in the north harbor."
Without waiting for a reply or Vanessa's remorseful cries, Victor turned and strode toward his private study at the end of the hall.
Once the study door clicked shut, Victor collapsed into his oversized chair behind the mahogany desk. His breathing gradually slowed, but his mind raced like a machine. Vanessa and Julian's betrayal had been dealt with brutally, but the greatest problem still loomed.
Lorenzo's ultimatum. One year for a legitimate heir.
With this marriage shattered, he no longer had time to seek a new wife among the jet set or engage in diplomatic courting with other mafia families. The process would take too long.
He needed a new pawn. Someone clean, without connections to the underworld, easy to control, and-most importantly-fertile. Someone who wouldn't dare take birth control pills behind his back because of her vulnerable position.
Victor's eyes turned to the corner of his desk, where a weekly report from the legal assets of Callahan Enterprises lay, including the Callahan Broodmare-his family's internationally renowned thoroughbred breeding farm located in the suburbs.
Victor's memory suddenly flashed back to three weeks ago, during a surprise inspection of the farm. Amidst the rows of magnificent stables, his attention had been drawn to a girl.
She wore no designer clothes or expensive jewelry. She was in faded jeans and a flannel shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows. Her brown hair was tied in a messy ponytail, revealing a naturally beautiful face that was clean, without a trace of makeup. But what lingered most in Victor's mind were the girl's hazel eyes-so clear, innocent, and radiating sincerity as she stroked the mane of Victor's black racehorse.
Savannah Reed.
Victor recalled the name from the stable's payroll list. A stable hand who lived a simple life with her ailing father.
A cold, cruel smirk slowly etched itself onto Victor's thin lips. That girl was the answer to his problem. Savannah's innocence would be easy prey for the web of The Valerius Ring.
Victor looked at Carter, who had just followed him into the study. "Carter, investigate everything about Savannah Reed at our horse farm. I want all her data, her family background, her debts, and every weakness she has on my desk before sunrise."
"Understood, Mr. Callahan. The report will be ready in a few hours."
Victor turned off his study light, leaning back in his chair as he stared out the window, where the Chicago thunderstorm had begun to subside, leaving behind a pitchblack darkness.
A cruel plan had matured in his head. Savannah Reed might be sleeping soundly right now, unaware that by tomorrow, the devil of Chicago would come to lure her into a golden cage from which she would never be able to escape. For the sake of the throne and power, Victor would not hesitate to destroy the life of the stable girl.
The sun had yet to crest the eastern horizon in Chicago, but Victor Callahan's private study was already shrouded in thick plumes of cigar smoke. The remnants of last night's storm left a piercing chill that seeped through the ventilation ducts, yet the atmosphere inside the room was far more freezing.
Victor sat behind his mahogany desk, still wearing last night's black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The blood stains from Julian on his knuckles had been cleaned away, leaving only reddened skin and a gaze of terrifying sharpness. Across from him, Carter stood at attention, his eyes heavy with dark circles, clutching a deep brown leather folder.
"You're on time, Carter," Victor said flatly, breaking the silence. He stubbed his cigar out in a crystal ashtray. "Tell me what you've found on Savannah Reed."
Carter stepped forward, placed the folder on the desk, and opened it. On the first page was a candid halfbody photograph. It was Savannah. She was smiling broadly while leading a foal, with a backdrop of green pastures damp with morning dew. Her brown hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail, seemed to shimmer under the sunlight, and her hazel eyes radiated a purity of life-something impossible to find in Victor's dark world.
"Savannah Reed, twenty years old," Carter began reading his intelligence report. "She has worked as a groom at the Callahan Broodmare estate for the past three years. Her record is spotless. No criminal history, no ties to motorcycle gangs, cartels, or any underworld groups in Chicago. She's an ordinary girl who has dedicated her life to caring for your racehorses."
Victor leaned back into his leather chair, his eyes locked onto Savannah's photo. "Her family?"
"Her mother, Grace Harrison, passed away from illness when Savannah was ten. Since then, she has lived only with her father, William Reed," Carter continued, turning the page. "And this is her weakness, sir."
Victor narrowed his eyes. "Go on."
"William Reed is a former senior horse trainer whose reputation was destroyed after he suffered from advanced coronary heart disease two years ago. Since falling ill, he's been unable to work. All of his living expenses and medical bills are supported entirely by Savannah from her meager wages as a stable hand."
Carter paused, glancing at Victor tentatively before adding the crucial detail. "To pay for her father's heart bypass surgery six months ago, Savannah was forced to borrow a large sum from loan sharks affiliated with a South Side street gang. Her current debt, with mounting interest, has reached one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. They've started terrorizing her lately."
A cold, cruel smirk slowly etched itself onto Victor's thin lips. "One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. A very cheap price to buy a future."
For a man like Victor Callahan, who controlled billions in movement through the The Valerius Ring's illegal arms trade and the legal operations of Callahan Enterprises, that amount was no more than daily pocket change. But for a stable girl, it was a colossal burden capable of crushing her life.
"Is there any other information regarding her health?" Victor asked, ensuring his chess piece was not flawed.
"She's in perfect health, sir. The annual physical report from the estate clinic shows no history of genetic disease. She's a strong girl, accustomed to hard work, and according to the doctor's report..." Carter cleared his throat softly. "Her reproductive health is ideal. She is at the golden age for conceiving."
Victor tapped his index finger on the desk, matching the rhythm of his own cold heartbeat. Savannah's innocence, her independence, and her family's financial ruin were a perfect combination. This girl had no power to resist, no political connections to seek protection, and most importantly, she wouldn't dare take birth control behind his back like the cunning Vanessa had.
Savannah was a blank slate he could mold into a machine to produce an heir to his throne.
"Very good, Carter," Victor said, his voice lethal. "Now, execute our plan. I want this trap set perfectly, without leaving a trace that leads directly to me."
"What are your orders, sir?"
"Use our intelligence channels to manipulate the situation at the estate tomorrow morning. Ensure one of my purebred Thoroughbreds-the most expensive one-suffers a fatal injury or is poisoned under William or Savannah's watch. Make it look like fatal negligence on the part of the Reed family, one that costs our legal firm millions."
Carter nodded in understanding. In the world of legal business, a lawsuit for damages of that magnitude would destroy the Reed family.
"Then," Victor continued, his dark eyes flashing with malice, "contact our corrupt police contacts in that district. As soon as the damage report from Callahan Enterprises is filed, have them arrest William Reed directly from his hospital bed on charges of sabotaging corporate assets. Make sure her father rots in the coldest cell."
"And what about the loan sharks chasing her, sir?" Carter asked.
"Buy her debt from those sharks tonight. Make Callahan Enterprises the sole owner of all of Savannah Reed's debt. I want her pinned from every direction. Legal law will cage her father, and financial law will strangle her own throat."
Victor stood from his chair, walking toward the large window that now displayed the first reddish hues of dawn over the Chicago sky. His plan was merciless, designed to dismantle Savannah's entire world in less than twentyfour hours, leaving the girl with no choice but to crawl to his feet and beg for mercy.
"When she has nowhere left to turn, when every door for help in Chicago is closed to her..." Victor turned, staring at the brown folder on his desk with the gaze of a true sovereign. "...that is when I will arrive as the only savior wearing an expensive suit. I will give her an offer she cannot refuse."
A contract marriage. One year in his golden cage, one child for the throne of The Valerius Ring, and freedom for her father.
"Go, Carter. See to it that by tomorrow night, Savannah Reed is under my control," Victor concluded absolutely.
"Understood, Mr. Callahan. It will be done immediately." Carter bowed respectfully and backed away, leaving the study in silence once more.
Victor stared at the dawn slowly illuminating Chicago. Elsewhere, in a small, warm house on the edge of the estate, Savannah was likely preparing to start her day with a smile. The girl had no idea that the most devastating storm of her life had just begun, and the devil from Callahan Tower had locked onto his target without mercy.
Victor leaned back into his leather chair, his eyes fixed on Savannah's photo. His memory was suddenly pulled back to an incident three weeks ago at the Callahan Broodmare estate. Their first meeting had been far from perfect, but it had left a deep impression on the mind of the Chicago kingpin.
That day, Victor had been walking through the stable corridor with several company executives, exuding an aura of intimidation that made every worker bow in fear. Suddenly, from around the corner, a girl who appeared to be in a rush while carrying a tray of coffee cups couldn't brake in time.
Crash!
The girl's petite body collided with Victor's broad chest. The next second, the pipinghot black liquid spilled entirely, staining the custommade trousers worth thousands of dollars that Victor was wearing.
The room fell into a deathly silence. The executives held their breath, knowing all too well Victor's reputation for never tolerating even the smallest mistake. Liam had already moved his hand behind his jacket, ready to act.
However, the girl's reaction was entirely unexpected.
"Oh my god! I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to!" Savannah shrieked in panic.
Instead of backing away in terror like most people when facing Victor's lethal hawklike eyes, the hazeleyed girl instinctively knelt. With incredible innocence, she grabbed a cloth napkin from her pocket and immediately began scrubbing Victor's wet trousers, trying to clean the coffee stain in a frantic haste.
"Stop," Victor hissed, his voice so low it could freeze blood.
Savannah looked up. The distance between them was so close that Victor could clearly see the glimmer of sincerity in her hazel eyes. Her face, bare of makeup, was flushed with shame, yet there was no flicker of cunning or hidden agenda there. She looked so fragile, yet at the same time, there was a strange courage in her eyes as she stared directly into the dark pupils of the mafia lord. The girl didn't know-or perhaps didn't care-that the man in front of her was a devil who could erase her in an instant.
"I'll pay for the dry cleaning! Or... or buy new ones if the fabric is ruined," Savannah said with a voice that was trembling yet firm, looking up to challenge Victor's piercing gaze.
Of course, it was a ridiculous offer. A year of her salary wouldn't be enough to buy one of Victor's outfits. But it was that courage, wrapped in pure innocence, that had stayed Victor's hand from destroying her that day. Chicago was filled with cunning women in fancy gowns who approached him for money and power, yet this stable girl looked at him purely as a human being she had just inconvenienced.
Back in the present, in his study, Victor wore a thin, cruel smirk.
"You were so brave that day, Savannah," Victor murmured softly, his fingers brushing the surface of the girl's photo on the desk. "Let's see if that courage and innocence remain when I drag you into my hell."
