Stole My Sister, Stole My Ring: Then His Mafia Boss Brother Offered Me Revenge

The Grand Ballroom of the Halston Hotel was still buzzing like a hornets' nest when the heavy double doors at the back of the room swung open.

Julian was standing near the three-tiered ice sculpture, holding a glass of vintage Dom Pérignon, his arm wrapped around Serena’s waist. My mother, Eleanor Hart, was beaming beside them, already receiving congratulations from two high-society matriarchs who were whispering behind their silk fans.

Then, the room went dead silent.

It started near the entrance and spread across the velvet-draped room like an electric shock. Conversations died mid-sentence. Glasses stopped halfway to eager lips.

I walked into the ballroom wearing my emerald-green silk dress—a dress my mother had claimed was 'too sharp' for the occasion—my head held high, my shoulders square. But I wasn't walking alone.

Nikolai Moretti walked beside me, his long, deliberate stride matching mine, his hand resting firmly, possessively at the small of my back. He wore no smile, no smug expression—just the quiet, terrifying authority of a king walking among peasants.

My mother’s face drained of all color. Her champagne glass tilted, spilling pale foam onto her white gloves.

My father, Arthur Hart, took a sudden step forward, his eyes wide with shock. "Evelyn? What is the meaning of this?"

Julian froze. His smug, triumphant smile collapsed into an expression of sheer, unadulterated confusion. He stared at his older brother's hand resting against my waist, then looked at my face.

"Nikolai?" Julian stammered, taking a step away from Serena. "What... what are you doing?"

Nikolai didn't hurry. He led me smoothly through the parted crowd, stopping right in front of my family and his younger brother. The air around us grew suffocatingly dense.

"I came to offer my congratulations, Julian," Nikolai said smoothly, his deep baritone carrying easily across the silent room. "You made a very public declaration tonight."

Julian swallowed hard, glancing nervously around at the dozens of powerful eyes watching them. "Nikolai, this isn't the place—"

"I agree," Nikolai interrupted cleanly. "It’s not the place for dishonor. But since you were eager to announce your future, I thought it only fitting that I announce mine."

Serena stepped forward, clutching Julian’s arm, her eyes sparkling with rehearsed tears. "Nikolai... please don't be angry with Julian. We couldn't help our feelings. Evelyn understands..."

Nikolai didn't even look at her. He treated her like a piece of furniture, his eyes locked entirely on his brother.

"Evelyn understands perfectly," Nikolai said. He lifted his right hand, reaching into his inner jacket pocket, and pulled out a velvet box. He flipped it open.

Inside sat a massive, black-diamond ring surrounded by double bands of platinum—a legendary piece of Moretti family history known across Chicago as the Imperium. It was the ring worn by the matriarch of the syndicate.

The room gasped collectively.

My mother let out a small, strangled squeak.

Julian’s jaw dropped. "That’s... that’s Mother’s ring! You can't give that to her! That belongs to the family!"

"I am the head of this family," Nikolai said, his voice dropping an octave, cold and absolute. "And this ring belongs to the woman who will stand beside me when the council convenes."

Nikolai turned to me. His expression softened just enough for the cameras to catch it, his long fingers gently taking my left hand. He slid the heavy, breathtaking black diamond onto my ring finger. It fit perfectly.

"Evelyn Hart," Nikolai said clearly, his dark eyes burning into mine. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

I looked past Nikolai’s broad shoulder at my sister, whose face was contorted in sheer, hysterical shock. I looked at my mother, who looked as if she were about to faint, and at Julian, whose carefully constructed political scheme had just been shattered into a thousand pieces before the entire city.