The Underworld King Calls Me Boss

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Ten years ago, a staged hit-and-run didnt just ruin my reputationit erased my life.

I was the Golden Girl of the tri-state business circles, a rising tech mogul with a Midas touch. Overnight, I became a pariah, a monster, a convict.

Ten years in a maximum-security cell changes a woman. I walked in soft, a girl who believed in the inherent goodness of the men she loved. I walked out iron-clad. By the time my sentence was up, even the most hardened women in the yardwomen who had done things that would make a hitman shuddercalled me "Boss." They didn't do it out of fear; they did it out of a terrifying kind of respect.

When the heavy iron gates finally buzzed open, I expected the air to taste like freedom. Instead, it tasted like ash.

My husband, Elliott, stood by his sleek black sedan, looking every bit the high-powered defense attorney hed become on the back of my initial success. His face was a mask of cold indifference as he dropped the bomb that had been ticking for a decade.

"It was Mandy who hit those people, Brooke," he said, his voice as flat as a dial tone. "I spent weeks scrubbing the digital trail and tampering with the surveillance footage. I needed a fall guy. I chose you."

Before I could even process the scream building in my lungs, my brother, Samuela man who had taken a Hippocratic Oath to save livesadded his own casual betrayal. "I handled the autopsy reports, Brooke. I falsified the forensic evidence myself. It wasn't hard."

The world tilted. I felt the phantom weight of the handcuffs Id just shed.

"Why?" I managed to choke out. My voice sounded like it had been dragged over broken glass. "I was your wife. I was your sister. Why would you do this to me?"

Elliott looked past me, refusing to meet my eyes. "Mandy is the foster daughter of the Langley family. Shes... fragile. Sensitive. She was young, Brooke. She had her whole life ahead of her. She couldn't have a stain like that on her record. It would have destroyed her."

He paused, adjusting his silk tie as if he were being remarkably generous. "But don't worry. Ive worked it all out. Ill provide for you. Im going to maintain two households. Ill split my time. I won't play favorites anymore."

I closed my eyes, listening to the absurdity of his words. Family? Love? Those things had been ground into dust during my years of manual labor and cold nights on a thin mattress. I didn't want his "generosity." I wanted his blood.

........

Elliott sat in the back of the car, his voice a blade of ice.

"Im telling you this now so you understand the reality of the situation. Don't make a scene. Don't struggle. Youre going to learn to live in peace with Mandy."

A white-hot rage flickered in my chest. Ten years. They stole ten years of my youth, my career, my fertilityall to protect "delicate" Mandy. They wanted me to be "well-behaved."

Elliott leaned back against the leather seat, looking utterly unbothered. "Mandy has been the one taking care of me while you were away. We have three children now. Our youngest, Nico, is still in diapers."

He handed me a small, wrapped box. "When we get to the house, give this toy to Nico. Make an effort to bond with him."

The rage turned into a physical nausea. When we were together, Elliott had always claimed he wasn't ready for kids. He said he wanted to focus on his career, on our future. But while I was rotting in a cell, he was playing house and fathering a brood with my foster sister.

"Taking care of you?" I let out a jagged, hollow laugh. "Is that what we're calling it now? Which 'fragile' little girl decides the best way to help her brother-in-law is by sliding into his bed?"

Elliotts face darkened instantly. "Watch your mouth, Brooke!"

"You were gone for a decade. Did you expect me to live like a monk? I needed a partner. A real woman who supported me." He glared at me. "And don't forgetwere divorced. I filed the papers the month after your sentencing."

My head spun. I remembered that day. I was fresh in prison, terrified and broken. Elliott had come to me with a stack of papers, claiming he couldn't be married to a "convicted felon" because it would ruin his legal standing. I had loved him so much back then. I didn't want to drag him down with my "shame." I had signed them without a second thought.

It had all been a play. A long, orchestrated con.

My brother, Samuel, leaned over from the front seat, his voice rising. "Mandy has been more than gracious. Shes agreed to this arrangementElliott will spend half the week with you and half with her. Sundays are for the kids. If you cant be grateful for that, I have no problem finding a reason to send you back to that cell."

I stared at them, truly seeing them for the first time. They weren't just betrayers; they were delusional.

I remembered the boy Elliott used to bepoor, bullied, desperate. I was the one who fought his battles in high school, coming home with bloody knuckles to keep him safe. I remembered the night Samuels gambling debts almost got him killedI was the one who stood in front of the debt collectors, taking a beating that left me unconscious for two days.

I had built an empire for them. And they had given it to the foster girl who had never worked a day in her life.

"I don't want his leftovers," I said, my voice cold and steady.

I pushed past them and walked into the housemy house. Or it used to be. The foyer was dominated by a massive, gold-framed wedding portrait. Mandy, draped in Vera Wang, was curled into Elliotts arms, looking like a triumphant queen.

Mandy appeared at the top of the stairs, a winners smirk playing on her lips. "Brooke? Gosh, I almost thought youd never get out."

She drifted down the stairs, her silk robe fluttering. "Listen, we turned your old bedroom into a nursery for the boys. Theres a guest room in the basement. Maybe you could"

"The only person leaving is you," I interrupted, my voice cutting through her fake sweetness. "This is my house. I bought it. I paid the mortgage. You have no right to be here."

When the family business went bankrupt after our fathers suicide, I was the one who started from zero. I worked twenty-hour days, paid off the creditors, and built Langley Tech into a multi-billion-dollar entity.

Elliotts face turned the color of a bruise. "What is wrong with you? Don't you dare speak to her like that!"

"And just so were clear, Brookebefore you went in, you signed the transfer agreements. You thought they were insurance papers, remember? Every asset you owned, the house, the stocks, the patents... they all belong to Mandy now."

I went numb. Ten years ago, Elliott had come to me with "insurance" forms, saying he wanted to make sure I was protected while I was incarcerated. I had trusted him with my life.

I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood from my palms. "I built that company with my own sweat and blood. You had no right!"

Elliott flickered with a moment of guilt, but it was quickly replaced by arrogance. "The company needed a leader while you were 'away.' And Mandy is family. Shes a Langley. What does it matter whose name is on the deed?"

I laughed, a sound so bitter it felt like poison. "You gave my lifes work to my enemy and called it 'management'?"

Mandy stepped closer, her eyes glittering with malice. "Were all family here, Brooke. Don't be so dramatic." She whistled, and two young boys ran into the room. "Look, boys! Say hello to your 'Big Auntie'!"

The boys looked just like her. Small, entitled, and cruel. "Get away from me," I hissed.

Mandy suddenly lurched forward, pushing one of the boys toward me. The child tripped, letting out a piercing wail as he scrambled back into her arms.

"Brooke! I know youve always hated me, but the children are innocent!" she sobbed, though her eyes were dry and full of triumph.

CRACK.

Elliotts hand caught me across the face so hard I hit the floor. His eyes were red with fury. "You haven't changed at all, have you? Ten years of 'rehabilitation' and youre still a sociopath!"

Before I could even look up, Samuel grabbed a heavy crystal decanter from the side table and smashed it against the back of my head.

"Enough!" my brother roared. "Ten years ago you tried to ruin Mandys life, and now youre attacking her kids? Get out! Go to the basement and stay there until you learn how to be a human being!"

Blood trickled down my neck. My cheek was already swelling, going numb.

Memories flashed behind my eyes like a car crash. I remembered how Samuel had stolen my patents to give Mandy "credibility" at the firm. I remembered when Mandy had cost the company a hundred-million-dollar merger because she couldn't be bothered to read a contract, and Elliott had made me take the blame for it.

Every time I fought back, they labeled me the aggressor. Because she was "sweet." Because she was "fragile."

I didn't argue. I didn't explain. I had learned in the yard that you don't explain things to people who are committed to misunderstanding you.

The servants, seeing which way the wind was blowing, brought me bowls of spoiled food and mildewed blankets in the damp basement room.

I pulled out a burner phone Id managed to smuggle out. I turned it on, and a string of messages from an unknown number popped up.

It was from the "crew" Id taken under my wing inside.

I didn't reply yet. I wanted to see if I could reclaim my world on my own first.

I lay on the hard wooden slats of the bed and sent a text to my former head of R&D.

I didn't sleep a wink.

The next morning, I went straight to the Langley Tech headquarters. I might not have the shares anymore, but the founders were still there. The connections were mine. The technology was something I had designed in my own head. I wasn't going to let them have it.

As I walked through the lobby, the whispers startedvicious little snakes biting at my heels.

"Is that her? The original CEO?"

"CEO? Shes a convict. A murderer."

"I heard she only got ten years because Mandy spent millions on her legal defense. Talk about ungrateful."

"She killed three people in that hit-and-run. Shes a monster."

My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my chin up. I headed for the top floor, for the executive suite.

But my keycard didn't work. I was blocked from my own office by two security guards who used to call me "Ma'am."

"Oh, look who it is! My big sister!"

Mandys voice dripped with mock sympathy. She was wearing a five-thousand-dollar custom suit, looking every bit the corporate shark.

"What? Did you come here looking for a job?" she sneered, scanning my cheap, thrift-store clothes. "I don't know what we could offer a felon. Do we need someone to work the industrial sewing machines? Or maybe the cafeteria?"

The humiliation was a physical weight. "Mandy, don't forget who built this. Without the core encryption codes I developed, youre just a puppet on a failing stage."

She laughed, a bright, ugly sound. She snapped her fingers.

Suddenly, the doors opened. My former partner, my lead engineers, my hand-picked board members... they all stepped out. They didn't look at me. They bowed their heads to her. "Good morning, Director Langley," they chimed in unison.

Mandy turned to me, her grin widening. "I have everything, Brooke. Your research, your client lists, your financial data. I even knew you tried to contact them yesterday. They work for me now."

"Youre a loser, Brooke. You always have been."

I felt the world going dark at the edges. When I went to prison, I had shared my secret encryptions with these men, trusting them to keep the company afloat until I returned. They had sworn they believed in my innocence.

And the second I was gone, she had bought them.

"Mark!" I screamed at my old partner. "Your mother was dying of cancer and I paid for her surgery when we were broke! How can you do this?"

"Simon! You were being blacklisted by every firm in the city until I gave you a chance!"

One by one, I called them out. Some looked away in shame. But Mark, my oldest friend, just looked at me with cold eyes.

"The world moves on, Brooke. And nobody wants to be associated with a killer."

At Mandys signal, they surged forward, grabbing my arms and dragging me toward the elevators.

Mandy leaned in close, tapping my cheek with her high-end smartphone. "Brooke, its been ten years. Even the iPhone has changed ten times since youve been relevant. Youre nothing. Youre a broke, pathetic ex-con."

She leaned in closer, whispering in my ear so only I could hear. "But I should thank you. For ten years, Ive lived in your house, spent your money, and fucked your husband. And let me tell you, Elliott has some very impressive skills in the bedroom."

She licked her lips provocatively.

"You bitch!"

The prison-honed instincts took over. I broke free from the guards and lunged, my palm connecting with her face in a strike that echoed through the lobby.

"BROOKE! STOP!"

Elliotts roar came from behind us. He rushed forward, cradling Mandy like she was made of glass.

The guards tackled me, pinning me to the cold marble floor. Samuel appeared out of nowhere, his face a mask of rage. He didn't hesitatehe delivered a brutal kick to my ribs.

"You never learn!" he screamed. "Security! Throw this trash out! If she ever sets foot on this property again, call the police!"

Mark, my old friend, grabbed a taser from a guard and pressed it into the base of my skull. The world exploded into white light and agony.

As they dragged me out like a dead dog, Mark leaned down and whispered, "The Director knew you were coming, Brooke. She prepared a little homecoming gift for you."

They tossed me onto the sidewalk. Immediately, a mob swarmed.

It was the families of the victims from ten years ago, flanked by a dozen news crews. Before I could even stand, a carton of rotten eggs pelted my face.

A womanthe mother of one of the deceasedstepped forward with a bucket of industrial red paint. She dumped it over my head. It felt like cold, sticky blood.

"Why are you out?" she shrieked. "Youre a murderer! You should have died in there!"

The crowd surged. Punches and kicks rained down on me. Cameras flashed, capturing my every moment of degradation.

Five minutes later, Mandy "stumbled" out of the building, looking like a saint.

"Please! Everyone, stop!" she cried, her voice amplified by a megaphone. "My sister has served her time! Please, give her a chance to move on! If you have demands, come to me! I am her sisterI will pay for her sins!"

The crowd fell silent, looking at her with adoration.

"Director Langley is so brave," a reporter whispered. "Taking care of a monster like that."

"Shes a saint. Did you hear she built thirty libraries this year?"

"The contrast is unbelievable. One sister is a killer, the other is a philanthropist."

Mandy looked down at me, a tiny, satisfied smile hidden from the cameras. She reached down to "help" me up, trying to force me to apologize to the grieving mother.

I spat a mouthful of blood and red paint at her designer shoes. "Rot in hell, Mandy. Youre the one who killed them."

Samuel stepped forward, shielding her. He turned to the cameras. "As of today, I am officially disowning Brooke. She is no longer a member of the Langley family. We have no sister."

Elliott stepped up next, his voice booming for the evening news. "And let it be knownLangley Tech does not employ criminals. We stand with the victims."

The crowd cheered. The reporters scribbled.

The victims families, emboldened by the lack of protection, dragged me back down. A man slammed my head against the concrete.

"Three lives! You owe us three lives!"

My ribs were screaming. My vision was fading. I felt the darkness coming for me.

And then, a sound like a thunderclap.

The roar of engines. A fleet of fifteen black Rolls-Royces tore around the corner, screeching to a halt in a perfect, intimidating line in front of the building.

The crowd froze.

"Is that... is that Frankie 'The Fixer' Moretti?" someone whispered. "The man who runs the docks? What is he doing here?"

"He must be here to see Director Langley," another suggested. "The company is booming. He probably wants a piece of the action."

Mandy wiped her face, smoothed her hair, and forced a flattering smile. She stepped toward the lead car as a massive man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped out.

"Mr. Moretti!" she gushed, bowing slightly. "What an unexpected honor"

The man didn't even look at her. In one fluid motion, he drew a suppressed Glock and pressed the cold barrel directly against her temple.

His voice was a low, terrifying growl that carried over the silent street.

"You put a hand on my Mentor? You must have a death wish, you little rat."