Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask (by Silver Spoon) novel Chapter 544

Chapter 544: Chapter 140 Unholy Alliances

Claire’s POV

The steel doors of St. Dominic’s Cathedral had barely sealed shut when Felicia swept toward me, her designer heels clicking against marble like a metronome of gossip. That woman functioned as the Sullivan territory’s unofficial intelligence network, collecting whispers from every corner of our shadowy empire like rare diamonds. According to her sources, Beckett and Nathaniel had departed the city recently in their armored convoy—undoubtedly racing to check on that insufferable little princess. I was certain she’d contacted her precious big brother, whimpering about my unexpected social call.

It hardly mattered. As long as the family registry still listed me as her mother, I retained absolute authority over that pampered heiress. My visit had been nothing more than stress relief after that imbecile Katarina dared to cross me in front of the other family matriarchs. When fury reaches its breaking point, one requires a suitable outlet, and mine happened to be conveniently accessible.

Upon further reflection, I needed to expedite my timeline. The inheritance transfer demanded immediate attention, and Connor’s patience for his promised bride was wearing dangerously thin.

Who could have predicted Connor’s obsession would reach such intensity? Though it possessed a grotesque logic—once she’d abandoned her deliberately crafted plainness, the girl was virtually identical to that deceased saint everyone still worshipped. Connor had been utterly devoted to his late wife, nearly succumbing to madness when cancer claimed her from his casino empire.

The true shock was witnessing her rebellion. I’d invested extensive time meticulously sculpting her psyche, monitoring her every interaction, poisoning her mind with antiquated concepts that pleasure equaled sin and would invite family shame. All designed to keep her properly subjugated beneath my thumb.

I had personally orchestrated her revolting appearance—those deliberately unfashionable clothes, that hideous hairstyle with those juvenile braids and unflattering bangs that concealed her bone structure. Even those thick-rimmed glasses were specifically selected for maximum unattractiveness. Since childhood, I’d taken extraordinary precautions to ensure she resembled no one of consequence, masking her features behind heavy lenses and shapeless garments, encouraging excessive indulgence in sweets to maintain her soft, unremarkable figure. Then she defied every carefully laid foundation, fled our controlled environment, escaped my influence, and in a short time obliterated years of my architectural manipulation.

Beckett had grown increasingly suspicious, even commissioning a private DNA analysis. That explained his unexpected intrusion earlier, desperately searching for hair samples from my bathroom. The fool thought he could uncover family secrets through science.

Fortune had smiled upon me when I spotted him exiting the Thorne family’s private medical facility—immediately suspicious since he avoided doctors with religious fervor despite possessing constitution like steel. In our insular criminal society, information flowed like blood through veins. That chattering receptionist at the medical center had been more than eager to share every detail of Beckett’s confidential visit. After that intelligence, orchestrating his public humiliation became elementary.

I would have paid handsomely to witness Beckett’s devastated expression when those laboratory results confirmed that spoiled little mouse was indeed "my daughter." The mental image alone sent waves of vindictive pleasure through my system.

"You appear unusually satisfied today, Claire. Care to enlighten me about this private joke?" Connor’s gravelly voice shattered my reverie as he materialized beside my pew. I’d been so absorbed in savoring my manipulations that his approach had gone unnoticed.

"Nothing that concerns your business interests. You certainly took considerable time arriving," I complained, reminding him that retrieving his precious bride served his ambitions as much as mine.

"Unlike certain individuals who spend their days orchestrating others’ misery and plotting fresh cruelties, I maintain legitimate enterprises. My casino operations require actual oversight," Connor replied, settling into the ornate wooden seat with practiced authority.

The man remained thoroughly disagreeable, showing contempt toward everyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. His poor wife had endured systematic abuse; I suspected her death stemmed more from psychological torment than any medical condition. Despite approaching his twilight years, Connor wasn’t entirely without masculine appeal. Though past his physical prime, he still commanded considerable presence and vitality, perhaps somewhat senior to Nathaniel but retaining that dangerous charisma that had built his smuggling empire.

"I didn’t summon you to this sacred place to endure insults," I snapped, refusing to allow his domineering attitude to intimidate me within God’s house.

"Then state your requirements clearly. What resources do you need to deliver my future wife?" His predatory smile betrayed barely contained eagerness to possess that delicate little dove.

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