Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask (by Silver Spoon) novel Chapter 407

Chapter 407: Chapter 3 Steel and Desire

Lila’s POV

This week had been absolute chaos, but thankfully it ended well with Ivy and Max safe from the betrayal within Thorne Corporation’s ranks. Now I was frantically trying to catch up on missed days of law school classes. The pile of case studies and legal briefs waiting for review meant I’d definitely be pulling an all-nighter. And as if my schedule wasn’t packed enough, Ivy and Caleb’s wedding was happening this weekend—a celebration that would unite two of the most powerful families in the city’s underground network.

I stepped off the bus a block away from my secured apartment building, my hands trembling as I fumbled for my key card. Taking evening classes meant navigating the city streets after dark, and the empty sidewalks made me acutely aware of how much safer I’d feel with my own armored vehicle. Perhaps it was time to use the trust fund my grandfather had established before the Sullivan family’s legitimate businesses became fronts for their more lucrative operations. The thought made me quicken my pace until I was practically running, my heart pounding against my ribs.

My fear of walking alone at night wasn’t just paranoia—it was survival instinct drilled into me from birth. Growing up as the daughter of Claire Ward Sullivan, one of the most ruthless matriarchs in the city’s money laundering empire, had instilled in me a hyperawareness that bordered on constant anxiety. In our world, enemies could emerge from any shadow.

Yet despite these fears and my complete inexperience with independence, I had chosen to face the legitimate world head-on. I’d taken the law school entrance exam and deliberately selected a university program that would give me skills to navigate both sides of justice. It wasn’t just because the school housed one of the country’s finest legal programs; I needed to escape the suffocating grip of my mother’s control that had left me feeling like a caged bird for years.

My mother wasn’t simply strict—she was a relic of the old school mafia traditions, with outdated notions about a woman’s role in family operations and extreme ideas about loyalty and obedience. Her interpretation of "family honor" meant that she controlled every aspect of my life, from my clothes to my friends, as if we were still living in Sicily a century ago. She wielded tradition like a weapon to justify her authoritarian parenting style.

My father, thankfully, had been my advocate within the family structure. Despite overseeing the Sullivan family’s legitimate cheese and dairy distribution network—which everyone knew was primarily used to transport far more valuable cargo—he encouraged me to develop skills beyond the family business. He insisted that I needed to learn independence because "succession plans don’t always work out as expected." He wanted me to become a strong, self-reliant woman capable of protecting herself in both the legitimate and shadow economies. When I announced my plans to attend law school, my parents had their biggest confrontation in family history. My mother threatened to arrange an immediate marriage contract with one of our allied families, as if this were still the old country!

My escape had been orchestrated by my father and my half-brother Beckett, who now ran the family’s day-to-day operations. They told me to pack secretly, and when my mother left for one of her charity board meetings—which served as excellent cover for laundering art auction proceeds—my father rushed me to a secure car and personally drove me to my new apartment. Beckett later told me that when she returned home and discovered my absence, she unleashed her fury on the household staff and even contacted family enforcers, who could barely contain their amusement at her demands to bring me back. This only escalated her rage further.

So here I was, some time later, a refugee from my own family’s empire, working as a legal secretary at Thorne Corporation while attending law school, too afraid to return to the family compound for fear of being locked away until a suitable marriage alliance could be arranged.

The initial weeks had been tremendously challenging. My father continued to ensure my financial security through carefully laundered payments, but once I started working at Thorne Corporation, I insisted on managing most expenses independently, often declining his additional support. The Sullivan family’s cheese distribution business had grown from my grandfather’s small operation into a nationally recognized brand—a perfect cover story that had been expanded significantly by my father’s business acumen and was now being modernized by Beckett’s innovative approaches to both legitimate trade and more discreet operations.

These family reflections occupied my mind until I finally reached my apartment building, scanning my key card with shaking hands, my pulse still racing from the vulnerable walk home.

"It’s decided," I declared to my empty apartment, triple-locking the reinforced door behind me. "Since I’m off until Monday, I’m buying a car tomorrow. I’ve already completed the hardest part by getting my enhanced driver’s license when I first arrived in the city. Now I just need the right vehicle with proper security features."

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