Mysterious Wife: Of The Cold CEO and Mafia Boss

Just as the temperature around Alice dropped to an icy chill, she allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile to flicker across her face—a smile that didn't touch her eyes. She made no move to stop Raya and her friend as they continued to smash her car, choosing instead to stand back and watch them with unnerving patience. The laughter and destructive glee of Raya's friends echoed in the cold air, but Alice remained motionless, as if the chaos unfolding before her was of no more importance than a passing breeze.

When she saw they were finally satisfied with the wreckage and ready to leave, she moved. Her steps were unhurried, calm, and yet held a sense of impending danger. Alice stopped just a few feet away, folding her arms loosely across her chest, her posture relaxed. "Raya," she said, her voice cold and steady. "Why did you smash my car?"

Raya turned slowly, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. But instead of answering the question, she sidestepped it entirely, her eyes glinting with barely concealed mockery. "Oh, Alice," Raya said, a mocking lilt in her tone, "there's a traditional medicine gathering coming up soon. It's an annual event, you know? The very best practitioners gather to show off their skills, administering treatment to a few chosen patients."

Alice's gaze remained cold, unblinking. "I didn't ask about a gathering, I asked why you smashed my car?" she cut in, her tone sharp. "What's in it for me?"

Raya's smirk grew, as if she had been waiting for this question. She crossed her arms, glancing dismissively at the damaged car behind Alice. "If you," she emphasized with a slight sneer, "can manage to invite Master Yue, the number one traditional medicine practitioner, to the gathering, I'll compensate you for the damage to your car... and offer a public apology."

Alice's eyes remained steady, her expression inscrutable. "And if I don't manage it?" she asked, a faint note of challenge in her voice.

Raya chuckled, clearly enjoying the game she had set in motion. "If you can't invite her," she said, "you'll owe me one million dollars for wasting my time." Her tone was light, mocking, as if the entire challenge was a joke meant to humiliate Alice. "Oh, but if you somehow manage to pull it off, Alice, I'll compensate you for your car. Fair, isn't it?"

For a moment, Alice said nothing, simply staring at Raya with those icy, detached eyes. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Fine," she said softly, her voice holding a strange calmness. "I'll bring Master Yue."

Raya's expression faltered for the briefest of moments before she recovered, a confident grin spreading across her face. She didn't believe Alice had a chance. After all, Master Yue was renowned, the absolute pinnacle of traditional medicine—a legend who had never failed to cure a patient through ancient methods, from healing herbs to acupuncture that could save lives with a single needle. She was a master that many had sought, but few had ever managed to meet, let alone invite to an event. Her expertise was revered, her name synonymous with the art of healing.

"Good luck," Raya said, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You'll need it." "Oh and wait"

Raya's eyes gleamed with a challenge. "Let's make this official," she suggested, holding up her phone. "We should record it. Proof, so you don't back out, Alice."

Alice's expression remained cold, indifferent. She gave a slight nod. "Agreed," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. They stepped closer, positioning themselves so that the background of Alice's vandalized car was clearly visible. Raya hit the record button, and Alice began speaking.

"I, Alice Wilson, am accepting the challenge Raya has presented," she stated, her tone measured and calm. "If I manage to invite Master Yue to the Traditional Medicine Gathering, Raya will compensate me for the damage to my car and apologize publicly."

Raya's smile was mocking as she added her part. "And if you fail to bring Master Yue, you'll owe me a billion dollars for wasting my time," she said, barely suppressing a laugh. They sealed the deal with a nod, exchanged the video files, and walked away from each other without another word.

Alice stepped into the restaurant, her cold gaze fixed ahead. Without rushing, she adjusted the lapel of her jeans and smoothed out the fabric, a hint of her previous annoyance still lingering in her taut posture. She grabbed her sleek, black handbag, allowing a moment for the tension to settle as she pushed the door fully open and entered the private room reserved for her meeting.

Inside, the room was elegant, lined with dark wood panels and a chandelier casting a soft, golden glow over the space. A long table with white linens dominated the center, with two chairs positioned strategically, one already occupied by a tall, well-dressed blue eyed man. His hair was neatly combed, and his tailored suit charcoal grey with a subtle sheen hinted at his refined taste. Robert Smith, as his name suggested, exuded a composed, polished aura. His deep-set, brown eyes held a quiet curiosity as they settled on Alice's entrance. With his sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing a silver wristwatch, he looked every bit the young, successful entrepreneur, handsome, his features softened by an effortless, gentlemanly charm. He appeared no older than his mid-twenties, a man of influence who seemed completely at ease with his surroundings.

Beside him, his personal assistant, Casey, looked elegant and professional in a dark pencil skirt and blouse. Her posture was formal, yet there was a hint of unease in the way she glanced at Alice, a sharp, almost hostile look crossing her eyes for a fleeting moment.

"Mr. Smith," Alice greeted coolly, her tone carrying an edge as she extended a hand. Robert's lips twitched into a smile, but there was a hint of something deeper, familiarity, perhaps, as he took her hand.

"Alice," he responded smoothly, his gaze lingering a little too long, a casual familiarity in his voice that she instantly noted. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it on time."

Alice offered a faint, polite smile, one that barely touched her eyes. "I don't make a habit of being late, Mr. Smith."

A subtle laugh escaped him, but he quickly masked it. "Of course. Please, take a seat."

She sat down, her back straight, her expression unreadable. The small talk was brief, formalities exchanged, polite inquiries about business logistics, nothing unexpected. But then Robert's questions began to shift, subtle but probing, his tone almost playful.

"So, Alice, I've heard quite a bit about your new projects. You've really expanded quickly these past months," he said, leaning forward slightly, his fingers casually toying with the edge of his glass. "Any secrets behind your success?"

"Hard work and luck," she replied curtly, her voice cool and detached. She didn't miss the way he was looking at her like someone who thought he knew her, someone who was pushing for a reaction.

"Really? Luck?" He raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Somehow, I doubt that's all it took."

Alice's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the direction he was trying to steer the conversation. "Luck plays a bigger role than people think," she answered, her tone unwavering. "But I'm not here to talk about vague concepts. You requested this meeting, Mr. Smith. What do you need?"

Robert's smile faded, replaced by a more earnest expression. "You're right. I wanted to discuss a few future investments," he said, glancing at a slim folder beside him. "But… it's rare to see you outside a business setting, Alice. I thought we might catch up a little. It's not every day we get to have a meal together, after all."

She looked at him, expression blank. "I don't see what there is to catch up on, Mr. Smith," she said, her voice cool and clipped. "We're business partners, not old friends."

The reminder seemed to sting him slightly, but he quickly covered it up with a nonchalant nod. "I suppose you're right. Let's get to the point then," he said smoothly. Yet his eyes didn't lose that lingering warmth, as if searching for something familiar in her icy demeanor.

Throughout the conversation, Casey remained silent, her presence barely acknowledged. However, each time Alice caught Casey's gaze, the disdain was palpable—like a dark cloud hidden behind polite civility.

Eventually, Alice's patience began to wear thin. "Mr. Smith," she interrupted coolly, a faint trace of irritation creeping into her voice, "How much did you spend on that car you sent me this morning?"

Robert's eyebrows lifted slightly, taken aback by the direct question. "The car?" he repeated, as if the topic was unexpected. "It was just a gift a small token of appreciation for our cooperation. There's no need to repay me, really."

Alice's expression hardened. "I don't accept gifts, Mr. Smith. I'll have my assistant look up the market value and send you the full amount."

For a second, his composed facade slipped, and there was a flash of something like disappointment in his eyes. "Alice, there's no need—"

"There is," she interrupted sharply, standing up with a graceful motion that carried finality. "I appreciate the meeting, but I have more pressing matters to attend to."

Robert watched her, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and frustration. She could sense it the desire to keep her there, to continue the game he seemed so determined to play. But she was done for the day.

Casey, now entirely ignored, sat in silence as Alice moved to leave, the chill of her presence lingering even as she turned her back. Just as she reached the door, Robert's voice stopped her, almost a murmur.

"You know, Alice," he said softly, "I've always admired your determination. It's what makes you… remarkable."

She paused, but didn't turn around. "Goodbye, Mr. Smith," she said curtly, and walked out, not waiting for any more words.

As the door closed behind her, Robert's gaze lingered on the spot where she'd stood, his mind racing with thoughts unspoken, admiration unmasked. That woman... she's as fierce as I expected.

Alice stepped out of the car, her sharp eyes scanning the entrance of the presidential villa as the taxi came to a halt at the front gate.The heavy evening air wrapped around her as she adjusted the strap of her black handbag and took a step forward. Just as she started to move away from the car, the moment she crossed the villa's gate threshold, it happened.

Without warning, three men in black suits, their faces obscured by sunglasses and the dim light, emerged from the shadows. They moved with the precision of professionals—silent, swift, and forceful. She felt a strong arm clamp around her waist while another gripped her shoulders. Before she could even blink, a cloth with a strong, sharp smell was pressed against her nose and mouth.