Chapter 1150:
The grand oak doors of the estate swung shut behind Rylie and Melany, sealing them off from the music, whispers, and glittering life of the banquet hall beyond. Yet the earlier clash had been like a stone cast into a still pond — its ripples radiating outward from Karina and Deandre to every corner of the room, subtly shifting the focus of every attendee and prompting quiet reassessment even as glasses clinked around them.
Wisps of pale blue cigar smoke wound lazily among the leaders of several ancient clans, drifting through the tense air.
An elderly man with graying temples and a single monocle lightly tapped the rim of his crystal glass. His voice was quiet, yet it carried clearly through the surrounding murmurs. “The Costa Syndicate’s new godfather is undeniably ruthless — he dealt with the outlaw biker problem with alarming efficiency. Still, publicly humiliating a woman tonight reveals questionable judgment and a complete disregard for proper conduct.”
He shook his head slowly, his words heavy with contempt for what he saw as impulsive, youthful arrogance.
𝗥𝘦𝘢d 𝘧r𝗈𝗆 𝘺𝗼𝗎𝘳 рhоnе oո 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗇𝗈𝘷е𝘭𝘴.с𝘰𝗆
Beside him, a thickset man scoffed and drained his glass in one harsh swallow. “Decorum? Lochlan — that sly old fox — didn’t even flinch at his own son’s death before handing power to an adopted heir. That alone shattered any notion of decorum. This boy may be capable, but at the end of the day, he’s still ruled by desire. He’s not someone meant for lasting greatness.”
A short distance away, several influential figures from the Mista Dunkadelic’s faction stood together in quiet discussion.
Henson — Karina’s former patron — narrowed his eyes as he watched Deandre softly comfort her from afar. His expression betrayed nothing, though his fingers unconsciously twisted the ring on his hand.
“What’s your take on this, Henson?” a younger man beside him asked in a low voice.
Henson released a slow, deliberate smoke ring into the air. “Lochlan wouldn’t choose an outright fool. Either this man is deliberately playing reckless — using the image of a womanizer to lower our defenses — or…” His eyes hardened with a cold glimmer. “He truly cares for Karina. Either way, the truth won’t stay hidden for long.”
Inside the car, Karina rested comfortably as Deandre’s fingers idly toyed with her hair. Leaning into him, she spoke softly, her tone almost sugary. “What’s your next move? Your woman has been exposed, and that could draw the Mista Dunkadelic’s attention — something we definitely didn’t plan for.”
His broad hand slid lazily to her neck — then abruptly tightened.
Karina’s eyes flew open in sheer terror as Deandre’s expression darkened into something frightening. “Who do you think you are,” he growled, “to make her clean your shoes?”
“I… I’m sorry,” Karina stammered, her face flushed deep red as his suffocating grip left her gasping.
Deandre eventually loosened his hold and calmly wiped his hands with a handkerchief, as though ridding himself of something filthy. His gaze was cold and merciless. “Follow the plan. If you decide to turn on me, that’s your choice — but the Mista Dunkadelic will already have evidence tying you to this deal.”
Karina’s body shook as she shoved the car door open and stumbled away, fear driving every step.
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