Chapter 5
Victoria
That night, Vincent threw a massive gala to celebrate his absolute control.
He paraded Bianca around the ballroom, treating me like a ghost. The mob wives whispered behind their champagne flutes, mocking the fallen Ice Queen.
I ignored them. Just nursed my bourbon in the corner.
Eventually, Bianca swaggered over with her crew.
"Look at you," Bianca sneered. "Couldn't keep your man in bed, and now you lost your seat at the table. Pathetic."
I didn't have the patience. I turned to walk away, but her girls boxed me in. Someone shoved my shoulder. The chain around my neck snapped.
The pendant—a silver bullet Dominic gave me—hit the marble floor. I'd never taken it off.
Panic flared. I dropped to my knees right in the middle of the crowd, frantically searching for it.
My fingers brushed the cold metal. A stiletto slammed down on my hand.
Bianca ground her heel in, crushing the bullet's casing.
"Begging on your knees for cheap junk," she whispered. "A barren bitch like you never deserved him."
I stood up slowly. Didn't say a word. I just raised my hand and backhanded her across the face.
The crack echoed over the music. Bianca gasped. I shook out my wrist and slapped her again. Twice as hard.
Bianca shrieked, collapsing to the floor.
Vincent shoved through the crowd. "Vinny, my stomach!" Bianca wailed, clutching her belly.
"Are you out of your f*cking mind?!" Vincent roared. He grabbed me by the throat, hoisting me up. "If anything happens to this baby, I'll put you in the ground!"
He violently shoved me backward.
My lower back slammed right into the sharp brass corner of a table. Blinding agony ripped through my abdomen. I crumpled, curling into a tight ball. Too much pain to even scream.
Blood soaked through my dress, spreading across the polished stone.
My vision faded. I reached out a bloody hand. "Vincent..." I rasped.
He didn't look down. He scooped Bianca up and sprinted for the exit.
Vincent
Bianca insisted on her private clinic. The doctors said she was fine—just a minor scare. I stayed by her bed all night anyway.
At ten the next morning, my underboss burst into the suite. He looked sick.
"Boss," he panted. "Word from Memorial Hospital. Victoria... she miscarried."
My blood ran cold.
Before I could process it, he swallowed hard. "She checked out at dawn. Smashed the estate's display case and took Dominic's ashes."
I drove my fist straight through the drywall. Blood smeared down the white paint.
"When the hell was she pregnant?!" I roared. "Why didn't anyone tell me?! And who let her take my brother's urn?!"
He flinched.
I snatched my phone. Dialed Victoria. Voicemail. Dialed again. Nothing.
My other line rang. The chief accountant.
"Boss, the offshore accounts are frozen! Stocks are tanking and our top suppliers just cut ties."
At the same time, my underboss looked at his phone. "Sir... five capos just resigned. All Victoria's loyalists."
My phone vibrated endlessly in my bleeding hand. Alerts, missed calls. Total freefall.
"Tell the men to find my wi—"
The order died in my throat.
It hit me. Victoria was gone. Without her pulling the strings, my empire was bleeding out in real-time.
I dropped my hand. Closed my eyes and forced a breath. "Call the board. Emergency sit-down in one hour."
Ignoring my shredded knuckles, I grabbed my jacket and headed for the elevator.
My phone screen lit up. A calendar alert.
I stared at the words, feeling a stab straight to the gut.
Victoria's Birthday / Anniversary.
She picked today to leave. A perfectly clean break.
For the first time in five years, pure, blind panic gripped my throat.
