The Mafia Empire

Julian toyed with his lighter, occasionally sparking it, a faint smile on his face, showing no sign of anxiety in response to Dave\'s concerns. The truth was, Mrs. Vivian was the only key to defeating Mayor Peter. As Julian had always believed, the quickest and most effective way to bring down a fortress was from within. Peter\'s strength lay not in his own terrifying capabilities, but in the layers of prestige surrounding him. Once those layers were stripped away, what would remain?

He would be less than an ordinary man, for ordinary people knew how to sustain themselves through labor, while Peter could do nothing.

As for whether he could persuade Vivian to become the one who would dismantle the fortress named "Peter," Julian had no worries. Mrs. Vivian had had enough. She desired change, and her pregnancy was the loudest protest and declaration of defiance against her past life. Julian had now added fuel to her fire. If she did not want to sink further, if she desired any change, then now was the perfect time—while she still carried the child, she could accomplish many things that would otherwise be beyond her reach.

And this was not Julian\'s only, nor final, strategy. Besides this direct plan involving Vivian, Julian had set up another relatively moderate, yet equally disruptive plan.

The union!

Indeed, in the eyes of many, Julian was now part of the "exploiting class," the epitome of a successful businessman, the embodiment of the imperial dream. But no one could change one fact—up to this point, he was still a registered member of the workers\' union. In other words, with just a bit of sacrifice, he could secure the union\'s support!

In the eyes of the capitalists, one or two workers, three or five workers, might be mere targets of exploitation. But thirty or fifty workers, three or five hundred workers gathering together—that was a nightmare for every capitalist and politician. Beyond that, Julian also intended to release another long-suppressed nightmare—the church.

This was why he was unbothered by the potential negative consequences this incident might bring him. At worst, he could pack up and leave. But if he managed to withstand the mayor\'s offensive and stage a beautiful counterattack, he\'d have the opportunity to step into the very echelon everyone envied within Ternell City.

Julian glanced at Dave. "Did you just call her Vivian? By the former king, have you actually fallen in love with that woman?" The choice of address was very telling, reflecting one\'s true feelings. When referring to someone despised, derogatory terms like "fool" or "scoundrel" would flow out without thought. Similarly, when speaking of someone beloved, be it family or a loved one, kind and affectionate terms were the instinctual choice.

For Dave to openly call her "Vivian" indicated that, deep down, he had accepted Vivian as a part of his life.

A slight blush appeared on Dave\'s face, handsome enough to make others envious. This instantly reminded Julian of a famous woman from another world who had once said that the shortest way to a woman\'s heart was through a certain path. That saying could apply to men too. To hold a man\'s heart, you first had to keep him captivated.

Indeed, passion was the catalyst of relationships. Conflicts between spouses or lovers could often be solved in a single encounter; if one wasn\'t enough, then two.

Dave gave up under Julian\'s gaze, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I admit, I\'m a bit infatuated with Vivian. Have you ever met a woman willing to open her heart to you?"

Julian whistled, looking at Dave as if he\'d discovered a new world. "I never knew you had the potential to be a philosopher. You should go to school, I\'m serious!"

Dave shrugged. "But schools don\'t admit assassins!"

Julian glanced at the time, stood up, and put on a fresh set of clothes. "Luckily, it\'s time. Otherwise, I\'d die here from your tragic love story. Stay here, wait for my return!"

That evening, there was a charity gala in the city, attended by the wealthy and even members of the church. These rich people would hypocritically donate wealth and supplies to the poor, only to exploit them back, gaining a good reputation without any loss. No wonder everyone was so eager to do charity.

The charity event was held at the Ternell Grand Theater, hosted by nearly all of the city\'s elite and various social groups, making it a critical social event. Every month, a similar charity gala would be held for reasons ranging from celebrating the emperor\'s birthday to honoring the victory in the War of National Defense, even with events for the Lord\'s Christmas Day.

It was a complex and carefully orchestrated social arena. To step into high society, one had to build a reputation here first.

Julian drove to the Ternell Grand Theater, looking up at the flashing neon lights, feeling a surge of emotion. Just over three months ago, he was here dreaming of expanding the car-washing business globally. Now, three months later, he had become a successful bootlegger and smuggler—what a world!

He casually pulled two fifty-cent coins from his pocket and tossed them onto the ground, instantly drawing the attention of three or five men with buckets who rushed over, fighting for the coins. The losers were crestfallen, while the winners beamed. Washing a car for a dollar was rare here. However, one of the men looked at Julian\'s back thoughtfully, feeling that he had seen this man somewhere before.