Chapter 1
# THE MAFIA'S MASTERPIECE
## Chapter One: The Favor
*Author: Shalep*
---
I should've never said yes to Nathan.
If Ethan Hayes had known how badly today would end, he would've locked himself inside his room and ignored every call.
Instead, he found himself standing in the middle of a luxury charity auction surrounded by billionaires, celebrities, and collectors who admired art only because it carried a ridiculous price tag.
The crystal chandeliers were blinding.
The champagne tasted too expensive.
The laughter sounded fake.
To Ethan, art had always been a language. To everyone in this room, it was nothing more than another investment.
He hated every second of it.
But that disaster hadn't happened yet.
It all began a few hours earlier.
---
### That Morning
Friday mornings were usually quiet.
Sunlight slipped through the thin curtains of the Hayes brothers' tiny apartment, illuminating floating dust and half-finished canvases.
The apartment wasn't much—a cramped two-bedroom flat in one of Ashbourne City's working-class neighborhoods. The walls were thin enough for every conversation to become public knowledge, and privacy was more of a dream than a reality.
Ashbourne City never slept.
Neither, it seemed, did Ethan's imagination.
His bedroom looked more like an abandoned art studio than a place to sleep.
Canvases leaned against every wall. Sketchbooks were piled across the floor. Paintbrushes rested inside cloudy jars of water that should've been changed days ago. The scent of oil paint and turpentine lingered in the air like a familiar perfume.
In the middle of the creative chaos lay Ethan Hayes.
Twenty years old.
A Fine Arts student.
A struggling painter.
Messy chestnut curls fell over his forehead, streaked with dried paint from the night before. His hazel eyes always looked soft, almost gentle, making it easy for strangers to underestimate him. His hands—permanently stained with paint and charcoal—were proof that creating art was the only thing he had ever truly loved.
His phone vibrated across the bedside table.
Noah.
Without opening his eyes, Ethan answered.
"...Morning."
"Morning, my bro," Noah greeted cheerfully.
"What do you want?"
"You told me to call you."
Silence.
"...Right."
Another pause.
"So... why did you want me to call?"
Ethan sighed dramatically.
"I've forgotten."
"Dude."
"Just hang up."
"...You woke me up for this?"
"I changed my mind."
"You know you're impossible, right?"
"So I've been told."
The call ended.
A small smile tugged at Ethan's lips before disappearing just as quickly.
His stomach growled.
"Fine," he muttered. "Food first."
He stepped into the hallway, intending to raid the kitchen, but stopped when he noticed Nathan's bedroom door was still closed.
That wasn't normal.
Nathan was always the first one awake.
Ethan knocked softly.
"Nathan?"
No answer.
He knocked again before quietly pushing the door open.
Nathan's room was the complete opposite of Ethan's.
Everything had its place.
The bed was neatly made, the wardrobe doors were closed, and the desk was perfectly organized with a laptop, neatly stacked documents, and tomorrow's outfit already pressed and hanging beside the closet. A faint scent of cedarwood and fresh linen lingered in the room. It felt calm, tidy, and lived in—the kind of space that reflected the person who owned it.
Nathan had always been like that.
Organized.
Reliable.
The responsible older brother who somehow managed to keep both his life—and Ethan's—from falling apart.
His gaze shifted to the bed.
Nathan lay beneath the blankets, his breathing uneven.
Even sick, he looked unfairly put together.
At twenty-eight, Nathan Hayes was tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly handsome. His neatly styled blond hair had barely fallen out of place despite the fever burning through him. Warm blue eyes—usually full of life and reassurance—remained closed, while his sharp features looked softer in sleep. People often mistook him for a celebrity instead of the man working tirelessly behind one.
Seeing him like this made Ethan's chest tighten.
He crossed the room and pressed the back of his hand against Nathan's forehead.
Hot.
Far too hot.
"Nathan..."
Nathan slowly opened his eyes.
"...Ethan."
"Don't talk."
Without another word, Ethan hurried to the bathroom, soaked a towel in cool water, and gently wiped Nathan's forehead and neck before searching the medicine cabinet for fever tablets.
The kitchen wasn't much help either.
The cupboards were nearly empty.
After a few minutes of searching, Ethan found the last packet of instant oatmeal hidden at the back of a cupboard. It wasn't much, but it would do.
He prepared it quickly before returning to Nathan's room with a bowl in one hand and a bottle of fever medicine in the other.
"You need to eat first."
Nathan managed a weak nod.
Ethan helped him sit up before feeding him a few spoonfuls of oatmeal.
It wasn't delicious.
It wasn't even good.
But Nathan ate it anyway.
After taking his medicine with a glass of water, he leaned back against the pillow.
"Feeling better?" Ethan asked quietly.
"...A little."
"Good. Go back to sleep."
Nathan didn't argue.
Within moments, he had drifted off again.
Ethan pulled the blanket over his brother's shoulder before quietly leaving the room.
Back inside his own bedroom, he slipped on his headphones and stood in front of the unfinished canvas waiting on his easel.
As his brush danced across the canvas, Xavier King's latest song, *Not So Good*, filled his ears.
Ethan knew every lyric.
Not that he'd ever admit it.
---
### The Other Side of the City
On the opposite side of Ashbourne stood a world Ethan Hayes had only ever seen on television.
A world of towering gates, private estates, luxury cars, and unimaginable wealth.
At the heart of it all stood Blackwood Mansion.
Home to Damien Blackwood and his five-year-old son, Oliver.
The estate was heavily guarded. Security personnel patrolled every entrance while surveillance cameras watched every corner of the property. Inside, a carefully selected team of housekeepers, chefs, gardeners, and attendants ensured the mansion ran flawlessly under the watchful eye of Damien's personal assistant, Mr. Alexis.
Like every morning, Alexis arrived before dawn.
At exactly six o'clock, he knocked softly on the master bedroom door.
"Good morning, sir," he called respectfully. "Your bath has been prepared."
A deep voice answered from within.
"I'm awake."
Damien Blackwood rose from bed with the same calm discipline that governed every part of his life.
At thirty-three, he possessed a commanding presence that made people instinctively straighten their backs whenever he entered a room. Standing at six foot three, with broad shoulders and an athletic build, he carried himself with quiet confidence rather than arrogance.
His raven-black hair was neatly styled despite sleep, and his icy blue eyes were as unreadable as ever. They intimidated most people.
Oliver was one of the few they softened for.
His bedroom reflected its owner perfectly.
Spacious yet understated, it was decorated in charcoal and dark walnut, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering skyline of Ashbourne. Every piece of furniture had been chosen with purpose rather than extravagance.
The only object that revealed anything personal sat on the bedside table.
A framed photograph.
Damien, smiling.
Oliver, only a few days old, sleeping peacefully in his arms.
It was the only picture in the room.
Damien disappeared into the adjoining bathroom before emerging fifteen minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in a fitted black tracksuit.
Alexis stood waiting outside the bedroom with a tablet in hand.
"Good morning, sir."
Damien gave a small nod as he accepted the device.
"Your schedule for today," Alexis began. "The charity auction begins at eight o'clock this evening. Apart from that, your morning and afternoon are free. The quarterly reports from the overseas branches have also arrived, along with this week's stock performance."
Damien skimmed through the reports, his sharp blue eyes moving quickly across the screen.
"I'll review everything after breakfast," he said, handing the tablet back.
"Very well, sir."
Damien glanced at the clock on the wall.
It was exactly eight in the morning.
"Wake Oliver."
"Right away, sir."
With another respectful nod, Alexis headed toward the young master's bedroom.
He frowned the moment he reached the open door.
The room was empty.
The neatly made bed hadn't been slept in for long.
The bathroom.
Empty.
The walk-in closet.
Empty.
His heartbeat quickened.
He immediately contacted the security team through his earpiece.
"Young Master Oliver is missing."
The atmosphere inside the mansion changed instantly.
Bodyguards hurried through the hallways while house staff exchanged worried glances.
Damien looked up from his tablet.
"What happened?"
Alexis lowered his head.
"We can't locate Young Master Oliver."
For the first time that morning, Damien's calm expression cracked.
He stood so quickly that his chair scraped loudly across the marble floor.
"Search every floor."
Before anyone could move, a tiny hand wrapped around one of his fingers.
"Daddy?"
Damien looked down.
Oliver blinked up at him with wide brown eyes. His messy black curls stuck out in every direction, and he was still wearing dinosaur-print pajamas.
"What are you doing?" Oliver asked innocently. "Why does everyone look scared?"
For a brief second, Damien simply stared at him.
Then he crouched until they were eye level.
"I'm fine."
His voice was as gentle as ever.
"I was just looking for you."
Oliver smiled.
"I went downstairs."
"Without telling anyone?"
"I was thirsty."
Alexis finally let out the breath he'd been holding.
"Young Master," he said, kneeling beside him, "you gave us quite a fright."
Oliver tilted his head.
"I did?"
"You weren't in your room."
"Oh..."
The little boy scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"I saw the chef making pancakes."
"And?"
"I wanted to watch."
Alexis chuckled.
"So you forgot to tell anyone where you were?"
Oliver nodded.
"...Maybe."
Damien sighed softly, the tension finally leaving his shoulders.
"Next time," he said, brushing a curl away from Oliver's forehead, "tell someone before you leave your room."
"I will, Daddy."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Oliver suddenly gasped as though remembering something important.
"Daddy!"
"Yes?"
"When am I getting my new art teacher?"
Damien looked toward Alexis.
"The search is almost complete," Alexis replied. "We've found a promising candidate."
Oliver's face lit up.
"Really?"
"I want someone who'll teach me to draw dinosaurs!"
A rare smile appeared on Damien's face.
"I'm sure you'll like your teacher."
Neither of them knew that one unexpected meeting at a charity auction later that night would change all of their lives forever.
---
### The Hayes Apartment
When Ethan returned to Nathan's room a few minutes later, the apartment was just as quiet as before.
Nathan was still asleep.
Ethan frowned.
He crossed the room and placed the back of his hand against his brother's forehead.
"...You're still burning up."
The fever hadn't gone down at all.
If anything, it felt worse.
Ethan sighed before gently shaking his shoulder.
"Nathan..."
No response.
He tried again, a little louder.
"Nat. Wake up."
Nathan slowly opened his eyes, his face pale with exhaustion.
"What is it...?"
"We're going to the hospital."
Nathan immediately shook his head.
"No."
Ethan frowned.
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not. You have a fever high enough to scare me."
"I'll be okay after some rest."
Ethan folded his arms.
"You're a terrible liar."
Nathan chuckled weakly before coughing into his fist.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
The room fell silent.
After a long moment, Nathan looked at his younger brother.
"If you really want to help me..."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"...What?"
"I need you to do something for me tonight."
"I'm listening."
Nathan reached for the elegant black invitation resting on his bedside table and handed it to him.
"The Chaiz Art Charity Auction."
"I know what it is."
"I need you to attend in my place."
Ethan stared at him.
"...You're joking."
"I wish I was."
"You want me to spend my evening surrounded by billionaires pretending to appreciate art?"
Nathan smiled faintly.
"It's part of my job."
"It's your job."
"I know."
"So why me?"
"Because Xavier can't attend alone."
At the mention of Xavier King, Ethan's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
Nathan noticed.
"I knew that would get your attention."
"It didn't."
"Oh?"
"I'm only doing this because you're sick."
"Of course."
"And maybe..." Ethan muttered, looking away, "...it wouldn't hurt to see Xavier."
Nathan couldn't help smiling.
"I thought so."
Ethan clicked his tongue.
"Don't make a big deal out of it."
"I won't."
Nathan's smile softened.
"Please, Ethan."
"I don't have anyone else I trust."
The room grew quiet.
Nearly a minute passed before Ethan finally let out a defeated sigh.
"...Fine."
Nathan's shoulders visibly relaxed.
"Really?"
"I'm only saying yes because you begged."
"I'll take it."
Ethan glanced down at the invitation.
"What am I supposed to wear?"
Nathan pointed weakly toward the wardrobe.
"I already picked out a suit for you."
Ethan blinked.
"You did?"
"I know you."
"You were expecting me to refuse."
"I was preparing for every possibility."
Ethan laughed quietly.
"I was just going to buy something from a thrift store."
Nathan looked horrified.
"Absolutely not."
"What?"
"You're wearing my suit."
"I'll look like I borrowed someone else's life."
"You'll look handsome."
"...You're biased."
"I am."
Ethan shook his head, unable to hide a smile.
"Fine."
He slipped the invitation into his pocket.
"What time does this torture begin?"
"The auction starts at eight tonight. After that, there's a reception that goes on well into the night."
Ethan groaned dramatically.
"You mean I have to stay for the reception too?"
"You'll survive."
"I seriously doubt that."
Nathan chuckled before another cough interrupted him.
Ethan's expression softened immediately.
"Enough talking," he said. "Get some sleep."
Nathan nodded.
"I owe you one."
"You definitely do."
Ethan walked toward the bedroom door before pausing.
"I'm heading out to buy some paint supplies and grab breakfast."
Nathan nodded.
"Be careful."
"I always am."
Nathan gave him a knowing look.
"No, you aren't."
Ethan smirked.
"...Bye, Nat."
With that, he slipped out of the apartment.
He had no idea that in a few short hours, he'd be standing face to face with a stranger whose eyes he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about — or that the auction he'd agreed to out of pity was about to hand him his entire future without asking permission first.
---
*End of Chapter One.part one
