He Called Me Disloyal, Then Lost His Empire

On the night of the family’s grand annual gala, Sebastian was practically vibrating with excitement. He had ordered a feast that could rival any kingpin’s banquet and instructed his consigliere to hand out double shares of the family’s profits to every loyal capo and soldier.

Celeste, all sweetness and smiles, moved from table to table, presenting neatly wrapped envelopes of cash and engraved tokens. Everyone accepted their gifts with gratitude—everyone, that is, except me. When she reached my spot, she shoved me back with surprising force.

“Step aside! Strays like you don’t belong in this family,” she spat.

I blinked, stunned. “What… what are you talking about?” I asked.

Her lips curled into a cruel grin as she tossed a notice across the table. It fluttered to the ground with a crisp slap. “A lowborn nobody like you has no claim to the family’s rewards. Leave before you embarrass the rest of us.”

Behind her, the massive crystal chandelier above reflected a series of projections—images of me entangled in what looked like intimate moments with high-ranking dons from rival families.

Finally, the ledger of rewards appeared. Every loyal member had been granted generous bonuses—cash, property stakes, influence—but my column glowed a harsh, unforgiving red zero.

I clenched my fists, staring up at Sebastian, who lingered nearby, silent and watchful.

“You’re really going to exile me… tonight?” I asked, voice tight with controlled anger.

The crystal continued cycling through the compromising images: me laughing with other family heads, sharing a toast, and in one humiliating shot, caught in an embrace as I stepped into a private office with one of them.

Sebastian finally tore his eyes away from the screen and gave me a cold, unreadable look. He said nothing.

“I asked you a question,” I pressed again, sharper this time. “Are you sure?”

The room went quiet. Every capo and soldier’s gaze was on him now, a mixture of fear and awe. Sebastian ignored it all, stepping forward until he loomed over me. His voice was ice scraping stone.

“Arwen,” he began, each word deliberate, “what right do you have to remain in this family? Every ounce of this family’s power comes from effort… except yours.”

“Is it not enough that I provide? That I’ve been loyal to you? That I’ve given you everything?” I shot back, trembling with fury. “Is that why you humiliate me in front of the whole family? Don’t tell me these capos are the reason you keep your distance instead of taking what I offered you!”

He pulled a stack of contracts from his coat and slammed them against my chest. The edges cut into my skin, and when I touched my cheek, warm blood stained my fingers.

“They say it was noble to raise the family’s influence in the city,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “But I will not allow a disgrace like you to tarnish it—even if you are meant to be mine.”

I looked up at him, steadying my shaking limbs. Surely he could see the truth if he just looked past the images. “Sebastian, you know me. My achievements come from my own grit and strategy. Nothing in those photos—nothing—changes that.”

Celeste’s laugh cut through the tension, dripping with venom. “Your own hard work?” she mocked. “And what kind of work would that be? Schmoozing rival dons? Everyone knows exactly how ‘close’ your… partnerships go.”

Snickers and outright laughter spread across the room. Some soldiers murmured their agreement, pointing at me as if I were a cornered mark.

I ground my teeth together, forcing myself to remain composed. “Those images mean nothing. My dealings with them were strictly business—alliances, nothing else.”

“Business, you say?” Celeste scoffed, picking up the photograph from the floor—the one showing a man’s arm around my waist as we entered the office. “Then explain this one. How do you justify it?”

She leaned closer, lips twisted in cruel amusement. “This comes from a crystal vid. Should I show everyone the full sequence?”

I studied the image for a heartbeat, then suddenly laughed, low and relieved. The man in the picture wasn’t a rival don—it was my older brother, testing me during initiation training.

That night, I stumbled back to my apartment, drunk with frustration and humiliation. I meant to call Sebastian to come fetch me—but instead, I ended up calling my brother.