Chapter 4 - The Vengeance of the Abandoned
While the Moretti family machine mobilized behind closed doors to restructure our alliance, the outside world was tearing itself apart over our engagement.
By Monday morning, every major tabloid in the country had plastered our faces across their front pages. “THE GREAT BETRAYAL: From Rejected Fiancee to Mob Queen—Evelyn Hart’s Stunning Revenge!” screamed the headlines of the Chicago Tribune, accompanied by high-definition photos of Nikolai slipping the massive emerald ring onto my finger while Julian watched in frozen horror in the background.
My mother had called my phone twenty-seven times before sunrise. I let every single call go straight to voicemail.
When my father finally ambushed me outside my corporate office—cornering me near the private elevators with a desperate, pleading expression—I didn't even break my stride.
“Evelyn! Please, you have to listen to me!” my father begged, grabbing my arm. “Your mother hasn't stopped crying for twelve hours. The social club has blackballed us! Julian is beside himself—he says the Morettis are freezing him out of every real estate contract in the tri-state area! You have to fix this!”
I stopped, pulling my arm out of his grasp with cold, calculated disgust.
“Fix what, Father?” I asked, looking him up and down as if he were a stranger on the street. “You told me to smile when your golden boy humiliated me on national television. You watched Serena parade around in my dress and whispered that it was ‘for the best.’ You made your bed.”
“We’re your family!” he cried, his voice cracking.
“No,” I corrected him, stepping into the private elevator as the brushed-steel doors began to close. “You were a corporation. And liquidation day has arrived.”
I pressed the button for the penthouse level, watching through the closing gap as my father collapsed against the marble wall of the lobby, completely broken.
Upstairs in my new suite—a sprawling, bulletproof sanctuary overlooking the glittering expanse of Lake Michigan—Nikolai was waiting for me. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a glass of bourbon, watching the city below like a king surveying his domain.
“Your father paid a visit downstairs,” Nikolai noted without turning around.
“He’s panicking,” I said, walking over to the minibar and pouring myself a glass of sparkling water. “Julian’s little coup has completely backfired. Without our family’s capital injection, his commercial real estate firm is going into receivership by Friday.”
Nikolai turned around, a dark, dangerous amusement in his eyes. “Better than that. The city council just revoked his zoning permits for the downtown waterfront development. My father made a few phone calls. The Morettis own the harbor, Evelyn. Without us, Julian doesn't even have a foundation to stand on.”
I took a sip of water, feeling the cool liquid soothe my throat. “And Serena?”
“Crying in her newly purchased bridal suite,” Nikolai chuckled softly, walking closer. “Complaining that society brunch invitations are being mysteriously cancelled across the board. Apparently, Chicago high society doesn't take kindly to homewreckers when the Moretti family makes it clear whose side they're on.”
A genuine, unforced laugh escaped my lips. For the first time in my life, I felt light. The suffocating weight of pleasing my parents, carrying Julian’s inadequacies, and constantly playing second fiddle to my golden-child sister was gone, burned away by the fires of absolute rebellion.
Nikolai stopped right in front of me, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle for a man whose name made hardened criminals shake in their boots.
“You realize,” Nikolai murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips, “that once we take our vows in two weeks, this arrangement stops being just a political strategy. There’s no turning back from the wrath of the families once you are bound to me.”
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My heart skipped a beat, but my eyes didn't waver.
“I never look back, Nikolai,” I whispered. “Show me the war.”
