The Lords continued to flood the group with intimate photos, thinking they could provoke Victor. But Victor didn't even look at the screen. He sat calmly beside a laughing Alia, focused on his own phone, finalizing a Master Mafia Deal.
While the Lords were busy disrespecting their own wives, Victor was silently dismantling their empires. Suddenly, the Lords received notifications their bank accounts were frozen, and their armory access was revoked.
Victor looked into the camera and said coldly, "While you were playing with photos, I was buying your worlds. As of this moment, everything you own belongs to my Queen."
Alia leaned against Victor, her laugh echoing through the call. The "Godfather" had just turned the "Lords" into beggars, and Alia was now the true Godmother of the Pentagon.The madness of the Lords reached its peak. They flooded the group chat with one intimate and compromising photo of their wives after another. They believed this display of "dominance" would provoke Victor or make him feel inferior. But their cheap, vulgar tactics couldn't even touch him.Alia sat beside Victor on the bed, droplets of water from her shower still glistening in her hair. As she watched the Lords' desperate attempts, she burst into a loud, mocking laugh. To her, it sounded like starving wolves howling one last time before their end.
Victor didn't spare a single glance at the photos flashing on the screen. He remained perfectly calm. One of his hands rested possessively on Alia's waist, while the other scrolled through his own phone. There was no anger in his eyes only a strange, chilling satisfaction.
Alia: (Laughing) "Look, Victor. The great Lords of the Pentagon have turned their bedrooms into a marketplace. How helpless must they be to stoop this low?"
Victor said nothing. He was busy finalizing a secret Mafia God Deal on his screen. While the Lords were preoccupied with their petty games, Victor was silently pulling the ground out from under their feet.
Victor's Masterstroke
Suddenly, a series of notifications chimed on the Lords' phones. Their bank accounts were frozen, their personal servers locked, and their access to the armories revoked.
Victor finally lifted his phone and returned to the video call. The Lords were still laughing, but their voices died in their throats when they saw Victor's unnervingly calm face.
Victor: (In a deep, heavy voice) "While you were so busy sharing photos, you forgot to watch your back. While you were playing with your wives' bodies, I was buying your empires. According to the deal I just finalized Marcos, Dragunov, Lucian... everything you once owned now belongs to my wife."
The Lords' faces drained of color. Their arrogance vanished, replaced instantly by raw terror.
Victor: "Alia was right. You only know how to keep slaves. But I? Today, I have made my Queen the owner of the entire Pentagon. From this moment on, you are not Lords. You are beggars living on my mercy."
Alia rested her head on Victor's shoulder, looking into the camera with that same icy smile. She knew that when Victor was silent, he was at his most dangerous.Victor chuckled darkly. "Relax, Lords. I was just having a little fun. The deal will happen, but first, I need to give a proper response to your cheap photos. You showed me your slaves; now let me show you how I keep my Queen. This will make you pass out from pure envy."
Alia, sensing his plan, placed a hand on his arm to stop him. "Victor, don't... don't stoop to their level."
But Victor was unstoppable tonight. He kissed her forehead and gently moved her hand away. "Don't worry, Alia. I want the world to see that I don't just rule you; I worship you."
Despite Alia's mild protest, Victor adjusted the camera. He didn't show anything vulgar; instead, he showcased a moment of raw, royal intimacy. He pulled her close, kissing her neck while she sat in her white towel, her eyes fluttering shut. It was a scene of such elegance and power that the Lords were left breathless.
On the other end, Marcos nearly dropped his phone in shock, and Dragunov collapsed onto his sofa, defeated. They realized that while they had lust, Victor had true, terrifying passion. Victor smiled into the camera one last time, "Don't faint just yet, Lords. Try to sleep... if you can." As the sun began to rise, a strange, tense silence hung over Pentagon City. Victor had reserved the entire rooftop garden of 'The Empire', the city's most exclusive and luxurious seven-star hotel.
The four Lords Marcos, Dragunov, Lucian, and Nikolai were already seated at a golden table. Their faces were pale, with dark circles under their eyes. They hadn't yet recovered from the shock of the previous night's video call. Surrounding them was a wall of Victor's armed bodyguards. Only one question burned in their minds: Was Victor going to end them today?
At that moment, Victor made his entrance through the grand arches. He was dressed in a sharp, dark navy-blue three-piece suit, a luxury watch gleaming on his wrist. He took his place at the head of the table, but the chair beside him remained empty.
Victor: (In a calm, steady voice) "I'm glad to see everyone arrived on time. But this table isn't complete without my Queen."
Alia's Royal Entrance
Just then, the elevator doors slid open, and Alia stepped out. The entire rooftop fell into a stunned silence. The contrast between the soft, captive Alia of last night and the woman standing there now was like day and night.
Alia's Look:
She wore a royal green velvet gown that complemented her complexion with an ethereal glow. Her hair was styled in a majestic updo, crowned by the controversial emerald tiara. There was such an air of sovereignty in her stride that the Lords instinctively stood up from their chairs.
Victor rose, took Alia's hand, and personally guided her to the seat beside him.
Victor: (Looking at the Lords) "Last night, you were all very proud of how you treat your wives. But the woman you see beside me today isn't just my wife—starting today, she is the new Administrator of the Pentagon. Every deal, every cent, will now require her signature to pass."
The Lords felt the world crumble around them. They never imagined Victor would hand over such absolute power to Alia.
Alia's First Move
Alia pulled a document from her designer bag and placed it on the table. She looked directly at Lord Marcos, her eyes no longer filled with fear, but with the sharp intensity of a predator.
Alia: "Lord Marcos, I might have forgiven the way you insulted your wife in front of everyone last night. But you dared to insult my husband. Therefore, as of today, 50% of your casino shares will be transferred to my name. Do you have any objections?"
Marcos began to sweat, lowering his head. He knew that an objection meant a one-way trip off the edge of the hotel roof.
Victor: (Smirking as he looked at Alia) "You heard the Queen, Lords. Why the delay in obeying her command? Sign the papers. All of you."Lord Marcos, the most handsome among the four with his streaks of white hair and piercing cat-like gray eyes, suddenly refused. He threw his pen on the table, and for a moment, Alia froze. The sheer intensity of his gaze was captivating yet defiant.
"I refuse," Marcos said coldly. "I won't hand over my legacy to an outsider based on a one-night threat."
The sound of guards clicking their guns filled the air. Victor was about to strike, but Alia stopped him. She stood up and leaned in close to Marcos, their eyes meeting. "You have beautiful eyes, Lord Marcos," she whispered, "but they won't see tomorrow if you don't sign. You call me an outsider? I am the one writing your death warrant."
Seeing Alia's ruthlessness, Marcos realized he was outmatched. Even his charm couldn't save him from the "Godmother." With trembling hands, he finally signed the papers, surrendering his empire to her.While everyone was anticipating a bloodbath, Marcos did the unthinkable. Instead of showing fear when Alia was close, he let out a soft, dangerous smile. His grey, cat-like eyes burned with a mysterious intensity.
Suddenly, Marcos reached out and brushed his finger against Alia's lips, whispering in a low tone, "You are so cute, Alia. But I am still not agreeing to the deal."
Alia could never have imagined someone would dare to touch her right in front of Victor. Between the touch of his finger and his bizarrely bold behavior, Alia turned beet-red with shyness. Her heart began to race—she couldn't tell if it was from anger or something else. Before Victor could explode in a murderous rage, Alia regained her composure and hurried away from the table, heading down the corridor to the hotel's VIP Room.
Behind Closed Doors
Entering the room, Alia stood before the mirror, staring at her flushed face. Just then, she heard the heavy click of the door being locked. She spun around to find Marcos inside the room. Outside, Victor's bodyguards were either preoccupied with another order or Marcos had somehow managed to slip past them unnoticed.
Alia sat on the plush sofa, trying to steady her nerves. Marcos walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps and stood right in front of her. In the dim light of the room, his streaked white hair and cat-like eyes looked even more enigmatic.
Alia: (Clearing her throat) "What are you doing here? If Victor finds out, you won't leave this hotel alive."
Marcos: (Leaning back and making himself comfortable on the sofa opposite her) "I'll handle Victor. But I would go to the ends of hell just to see that blushing face of yours again, Alia. Is that signature on the file really that important to you? Or are you perhaps... enjoying my company just a little bit?"
Alia sat in stunned silence. Marcos's magnetic personality and the spell of his eyes felt like a beautiful death trap. She realized then that Marcos wasn't just trying to intimidate her; he was trying to cast a shadow of obsession over her heart.