Her Stepsister Tore Her Dress in Public — Then the Mafia King Covered Her with His Coat

Ava blinked, utterly bewildered. “Your family's vault? That's impossible. My mother was a fashion designer from upstate New York. She had nothing to do with Moretti Holdings.”

Niko walked to a mahogany desk in the corner of the room, opened a small iron lockbox, and set the gold key beside a leather-bound journal.

“Ten years ago, my father’s company was targeted by an internal traitor,” Niko explained, pouring a glass of water and handing it to her. “Millions of dollars vanished, and private trade designs were leaked to the market. The woman who exposed the fraud was an independent textile consultant hired to audit our accounts.”

Ava’s breath hitched. “Eleanor Monroe.”

“Yes,” Niko confirmed, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Your mother found out who was stealing from us. But before she could hand her findings over to my father, she died in a sudden car accident.”

Ava felt a cold chill run down her spine. “They said it was a brake failure.”

“It wasn't a brake failure,” Niko said coldly. “And three weeks after her death, your father, Richard Whitmore, married Victoria—the woman who took over your mother’s design studio and absorbed all her patents.”

Ava sank onto the edge of the leather sofa, her mind spinning. For ten years, she had believed her father married Victoria out of grief and a desire to give Ava a mother figure. She had spent a decade serving them, working as an unpaid seamstress in her own home, believing she owed them for taking her in.

“The key opens a deposit box in the Aurelia’s subterranean vault,” Niko continued, sitting across from her. “Your mother hid the original evidence inside it before she died. Victoria and Richard have been looking for it for a decade.”

Ava looked down at her hands, tears pricking her eyes. “They tore my dress tonight because they realized I was wearing the gown she finished before she died.”