Dark Romance: A Cruel Obsession

Six years ago, in the battle for the management rights of the Port of Houston, Kamden married Luzia off to Paavo, while John had already gone to study abroad in England, and Alajos contacted him through Shelley. However, John did not appear even after the wedding was over.

John’s absence served to maintain the dignity of all three families involved. Once Kamden secured the management rights for the Port of Houston, he valued Charles even more, and the Benoist family reaped unimaginable benefits.

Alajos sneered with ridicule, “Rest assured, I won’t let you die that easily. Traitors like you should go to hell.”

“Traitors deserve hell, but so do beasts like you who trade friends and family for profits!” John spat a mouthful of blood onto his face.

Alajos turned his head to dodge, the specks of blood staining his clothes. Disgusted, he dropped John on the ground, and the organization’s bodyguards dragged him aside, with his screams soon filling the warehouse.

Simpson toyed with his newly acquired MPT-12 as the area around the warehouse was surrounded by abandoned factories. On the unlit dirt road, passing vehicles had to turn on their headlights for safety. The high beams revealed the vehicles’ trajectories, leaving nowhere to hide.

Simpson whistled sharply toward the area, his black military boots crushing a cigarette butt on the ground. He walked into the warehouse just as John’s screams weakened a bit, “The old man from the Benoist family has arrived.”

Richard Benoist was John’s father, Charles’s brother and the helmsman of the Benoist family. After Kamden’s death, Charles was the first elder to publicly support Alajos as the new Capo, and the Alajos brothers held him in high regard.

Therefore, Alajos was originally willing to show some respect to Richard and even allowed John, who had suddenly returned from England without any merits, some power to exercise. But what he got in return was John’s betrayal, which enraged Alajos.

“John!” Richard stumbled into the warehouse. Alajos stepped on John’s gunshot wound on his leg and pressed down hard, reviving the nearly unconscious John with a surge of pain.

“Ah!”

“What are you doing, stop it now,” Richard attempted to rush to his son’s aid but was kicked in the knee by Simpson who stood behind him. Unprepared, his heavy body lost balance and crashed to the ground.

Richard’s bodyguards had just raised their guns when they felt something hard pressed against their heads.

“Alajos, what exactly do you want to do?” Richard, staring at the dark muzzle, had cold sweat on his forehead but dared not show any fear, “If you dare kill us, do you think Charles would let you off?”

“Don’t worry, Charles is well aware of the ‘good deeds’ your son John has done.” Simpson’s gun pressed against the back of Richard’s head, his voice cold as ice, “Betraying Houston, colluding with the Bratva, attacking Alajos twice, shooting the esteemed guest Vilem from Houston, planning to sabotage the alliance between Houston and Los Angeles… Which of these is not worth his dog’s life?”

“Nonsense, utter nonsense!” Richard looked pale as he gazed at his son sprawled on the ground, “Why would you frame John? It’s to weaken the power of the Benoist family, isn’t it!”

Richard hurled accusations at Alajos, “You ungrateful cur, Charles put you on the throne, and this is how you repay him.”

“It’s up to Charles to decide now.”

With a click of the pistol being cocked, Alajos handed the gun to the man who had been standing in the shadows, “It’s a choice between the rise of the Benoist family and complete disgrace.”

Richard’s eyes widened in shock as the tall figure emerged from the shadows. The middle-aged man’s features were sharp, revealing a fierceness and bloodthirstiness honed from years of living on the edge. His brows pressed down, commanding an authority that made Richard unable to look him in the eye.

“Big brother!” Richard swallowed in fear, struggling to plead. But as his gaze met John’s badly beaten form, he couldn’t hold back any longer, “Please, save John, he…”

Bang!

The gunshot rang out amidst Richard’s pleas. Charles maintained his firing stance, his expression cold and indifferent. Silence fell around them, as if all the noise had been put on pause at that moment.

Alajos returned to his apartment much later than usual, troubled by Charles’s too swift and clean execution of John.

The elevator dinged open, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked into the apartment. Seeing Vivian sitting at the dining table, he approached her. She didn’t look up, focusing on the now-cold plate of spaghetti.

“It’s gotten cold,” Alajos said.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” Vivian’s eyes were red, her face still wet with un-wiped tears, “You said you’d be back before dinner, and I hoped I could wait for you.”

“Have you been waiting for me all this time?” Alajos glanced back at the living room clock; it had been three and a half hours since their usual dinner time.

“Yes, I’ve been waiting for you,” Vivian’s tears threatened to fall again as she wiped her eyes, only to smear more, “I prepared the dinner myself, our first meal shared since we got married, I hoped…”

“You shouldn’t have waited.” Alajos paused for a moment, then said, “You should have eaten it while it was still hot after making it, not let it go cold and then throw it away like this. It’s a waste of food.”

Alajos’s tone grew stern, and Vivian stood up, trying to explain, “I just…”

“You just wanted to show your pitiful state by waiting so long, to make me feel sorry for you, to pity you into eating your carefully prepared dinner, and then you could start making your demands,” he said coldly.

Vivian swayed, tears rolling down her cheeks, “What are you saying?”

“This is a transaction, isn’t it?” Alajos said cruelly.

His coldness was enough to hurt Vivian, “Is that what you think of me?”

“That’s what you said yourself.”

Watching Alajos’s impassive face, Vivian had never been so clearly aware of how badly things had turned out. Her husband couldn’t give her love, and now he wouldn’t even offer tenderness or trust. All her attempts to hold on were turning into transactions.

What should she do?

Vivian was at a loss, staring blankly at the beautifully set but now cold food on the table, tears dropping incessantly from her eyes.

Alajos silently watched her, wanting to step forward to wipe away her tears, to tell her gently not to cry, that he was willing to show some rare tenderness to his new wife. But Vivian’s idea of a transaction truly infuriated him.

It shouldn’t be like this. A Capo has no weaknesses; he can’t allow Vivian to become his Achilles’ heel, a weapon for the Bratva to exploit against him.

Alajos poured out the dinner Vivian had carefully prepared right in front of her. The stained plates clattered as he tossed them into the sink, the sound of breaking plates echoing loudly.

Vivian was frightened by Alajos’s sudden rage, her blue eyes wide with horror.

She moved to clean up the broken dishes in the sink but was rebuked by Alajos, “Damn it, don’t touch them. Do you want to get hurt? Or do you want to use your injury to gain my pity? Impossible, I’ll just call the family doctor for you.”