Christmas Downfall: Don, You Shouldn't Harass A Mafia Princess

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

He carefully lifted Lola horizontally in his arms.

Joy was unmistakable in every crease of his brows and corner of his eyes.

"Don't be scared. We're heading to the hospital right now."

Daniel hurried outside with her in his arms. He only tossed over his shoulder a sharp remark:

"Anna, you need to calm down and learn to be a mafia's wife properly."

From that day on, Daniel didn't return home for three whole months.

He took Lola to Switzerland to see the snow.

When she casually mentioned loving the alpine scenery of the Alps, he immediately bought a vacation manor at the foot of the mountains-with only her name on the deed.

Then they traveled to Venice.

Lola posted photos on social media of the custom-made antique jewelry set Daniel had commissioned for her as a Chrismas present; an 18th-century sapphire necklace shimmered brilliantly around her neck.

[Someone will quietly fulfill all your wishes without fanfare. So this is what it feels like to be cherished.]

Daniel's favoritism had always been bold .

The night wind, thick with salty moisture, drifted over the carved balcony of Daniel's waterfront villa. Lola ended the video call, still twisting the platinum lighter Daniel had casually tossed her between her fingers.

The "D&A" initials engraved on its surface were scored twice fiercely with her nail polish.

The bathroom door clicked open.

Daniel emerged wearing only a towel slung low around his waist, water droplets glistening as they trickled down the grooves of his abs to his hip bones.

He grabbed his phone from the sofa, glanced at the three missed calls from "Anna" in the call log, and his brows furrowed so tightly .

"She's bothering you again?"

He took the cigarette Lola offered, and with a sharp whoosh, the lighter flared to life with a blue flame.

Lola wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her chest against his warm back, her voice sickeningly sweet: "Mm-hmm. She asked where you were, but I told her you were showering. Daniel, when are you going to break it off with her?"

Daniel stubbed out the cigarette, turned around, and gripped her chin tightly.

His thumb caressed the fresh hickey on her collarbone-the one he'd left that morning on his yacht, when Lola had worn a bikini and moaned so loudly the entire marina could hear her.

He loved her wild, untamed energy, like a feral beast-completely opposite to Anna's perpetually calm demeanor.

"What's the rush?"

He leaned down and nipped her lower lip.

"Once I have full control of the Browns, I'll kick her out for good."

Lola's eyes lit up:

"What about the trust fund her grandfather left her.?"

Daniel scoffed coldly.

"That old man thought he could tie me down with collateral? Wait until I cut off the entire cash flow. Anna's just a hollow socialite with no real power-what's she going to do to stop me?"

What he didn't know was that, at that very moment, in a manor far away in New York, Anna was sitting at a mahogany desk, her fingertips brushing over encrypted documents her butler had just delivered.

These were the latest updates from a mole her grandfather had planted long before his death: Daniel had been embezzling company funds to buy Lola manors and custom jewelry, and had even secretly transferred a sum of dirty money to a Swiss bank account-a sum originally intended to cover the quarterly dividend shortfall for the mafia family "Blood Pact."

Anna set the documents aside and picked up her cup of Earl Grey tea.

Her grandfather had been the "Godfather" of New York's underworld, and her mother had been the family's sole heir.

Daniel had only courted her for her family's influence.

Born into poverty, he'd clawed his way up in the mafia with sheer ruthlessness, but had always been looked down on by the older generation.

Anna had thought he loved her sincerely-until Lola appeared.

On the night of the charity auction, the top-floor ballroom in Manhattan, New York, blazed with lights.

She clung to Daniel's arm, accepting the guests' compliments with poise, acting as if she were already the lady of the house.

Daniel stepped onto the auction stage, picked up the microphone, and was about to announce: "Lola will be the new brand ambassador of the Whites"-a "title" he'd prepared for Lola, and the first step in his declaration of war against Anna.

But before he could finish speaking, the ballroom's carved wooden doors were suddenly smashed open.

A dozen burly men in black suits and earpieces flooded in.

Their waists bulged noticeably armed.

They spread out quickly, blocking all exits.

The guests fell silent instantly; anyone reaching for their phone was roughly restrained by the men.

The leader, dressed in a tailored suit with a silver iris badge pinned to his lapel walked straight up to Daniel.

He held out a document with a gold-embossed cover:

"Daniel, by the late Godfather's order, you are accused of embezzling mafia family funds and betraying your allies. Effective immediately, you are dismissed from all positions at the Whites, and all your assets are frozen."