The Mafia Empire

Trembling, Delier responded in a quivering voice, "Mrs. Vivian has a passionate pursuit of all things beautiful..." He paused, unsure whether to speak the truth. Glancing nervously at Julian, whose eyes had turned fierce again, he shivered and decided to confess everything. His only hope now was that Julian had no serious intentions toward Mrs. Vivian; otherwise, his fate would be grim.

"Mrs. Vivian has a peculiar preference... She likes young boys, not too young, around thirteen or fourteen years old, who are either handsome or pretty," Delier continued. Since he had already started speaking, he figured he might as well spill everything. After all, saying half the truth would lead to his death, and saying everything would lead to the same.

He might as well try to survive the present and think about the future later.

"Actually, many of the ladies enjoy these indulgences," Delier continued. "Their husbands often keep mistresses outside, and even if they come home, they rarely do anything intimate. I'm not sure if it's out of revenge or some inherent habit among women, but quite a few ladies share this hobby."

"I've told you everything. Will you let me go now?"

Julian suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He glanced around. This place, which was supposed to be an art gallery full of artistic elegance, was secretly involved in such filthy business. The curator of this gallery was, astonishingly, a peculiar kind of pimp!

But when he thought about it from a different perspective, it actually made sense. These high status ladies, deprived of attention and affection for long periods, were bound to harbor resentment. Some of them could endure it, but others simply couldn't, especially women like Mrs. Vivian, who had her own influence and didn't care about what her man thought or did.

He had heard Kevin mention before that the mayor—or was it a councilman?—had kept a restaurant owner as a mistress. He never expected to stumble upon this kind of sordid business here.

What Julian didn't know was that Delier hadn't revealed the full truth. The so called flower arranging and tea parties were nothing more than wild orgies for these ladies, a hormonal frenzy set in the midst of this artistic sanctuary.

As for the boys Delier scouted, they weren't exactly victims. Besides receiving some special favors, they also made a considerable amount of money.

Each party got what they wanted.

But this particular hobby of Mrs. Vivian's made Julian scratch his head. If she had liked money, he could have provided it. If she liked certain things, he could have figured out a way to get them. But she was into young boys? What was he supposed to do, offer himself?

In a split second, Julian thought of someone—Dave.

That pretty boy, whose looks were almost feminine, would definitely be popular among these ladies. And for Dave, it wouldn't even be a disadvantage.

With that thought, Julian shifted from his seat on the desk. He approached the egg-shaped chair, where Delier still sat. Delier, thinking Julian was about to hit him again, quickly shielded his head, his body trembling. After a moment of silence, when no blows came, Delier hesitantly lowered his arms and chuckled nervously.

Julian, with a calm demeanor, extended his hand and straightened Delier's collar, even brushing off the ash that had fallen on him. "Look, I've learned some secrets I probably shouldn't know. If you don't want people to find you floating in the Agate River one day, you'd better keep your mouth shut."

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Delier nodded blankly.

"I remember. Two days from now, Mrs. Vivian will be coming for art appreciation!"

Satisfied, Julian nodded back. He pulled out a roll of ten-dollar bills from his pocket, casually counted ten of them, and tucked them into his pocket. The rest he threw toward Delier.

The unbound bills turned into a flurry of paper, spinning and swirling as they slowly floated down.

As Julian walked away, Delier, staring at the shower of bills, felt like he'd just been humiliated and then patted on the back.

When Julian returned to the temporary hideout, Dave immediately approached him. He knew that Julian had gone out to deal with the threat posed by Gador, and he was nervous. The current state of their organization, the Brotherhood, was far weaker in both size and power compared to Gador.

Gador was different from Wood. Wood had "cleaned up" his image. This so-called cleaning up wasn't just about erasing past misdeeds from public knowledge; it also involved cutting away any remnants of unsavory activities, like his hired thugs, weapons, and illegal operations. He was like a tiger whose claws and teeth had been removed, locked inside a cage with a label outside that read "Tycoon."

On the surface, Wood seemed incredibly imposing—everyone knew him as the tycoon Wood. But the reality of his situation was something only he fully understood. To maintain his dignity and status, he could no longer do anything that would tarnish his reputation.

He couldn't keep an army of thugs, couldn't engage in illegal business ventures, and couldn't resort to violence at the slightest provocation like before. No matter what issue arose, he had to abide by the rules of the game.

So when it came to dealing with Wood, Julian had no hesitation.

He was up against a tiger that had forgotten how to tear apart its prey with claws and teeth. He may have once been a dominant figure in the jungle, but now, Wood was nothing more than a gentleman, bound by the rules set by the powerful, incapable of putting up a real fight.

Gador, on the other hand, wasn't yet constrained by these rules. While he followed them, he hadn't risen to the ranks of high society just yet. He was merely a dirty gang leader. Until he crossed that threshold, whatever he did was acceptable in the eyes of the public. After all, wasn't he just a gang leader acting according to his role?

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