After His Betrayal, I Left My Mafia Husband

Chapter 3

I arrived early at the coffee shop we had agreed on. It was right across from Blackwell Group.

The reflection on the glass building hurt my eyes, but I stubbornly kept looking up.

Three years ago, I gave up the company I had built with my own hands and willingly became Nathan's second-in-command, supporting his career with everything I had. On the top floor of that building, there had once been an office that belonged to me.

Inside were the oil painting I had hung myself, the cashmere rug I had chosen myself, and the bird-of-paradise plant I had kept on the windowsill.

Later, I left the company and returned home full-time because I wanted to take care of the stomach problems Nathan had developed from too many late-night business dinners. That office was left empty.

Nathan said he would keep it there until I went back, but in three years, he never mentioned it once.

He had probably forgotten long ago.

He had forgotten that when Blackwell Group was first founded, its seed funding had come from my personal account.

He had forgotten that when he signed his first arms order, the other side had asked for me by name, not him.

He had forgotten what he said when he stood with me in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the top floor, looking down over all of Westbridge.

"Claire, from today on, this is our empire."

He had said the words "our empire". Later, his "our empire" turned into "What have you ever done besides cook and clean?"

A cool cedar scent drifted over.

I turned my head. Lorenzo had already pulled out the chair across from me and sat down.

His charcoal three-piece suit was impeccably tailored. The iris crest on his cufflink flashed in the sunlight, giving him an unmistakable edge.

But his eyes were still as gentle and indulgent as they had been three years ago. Now, they held a few more complicated emotions.

There was the admiration of an equal. There was anticipation that had been suppressed for too long. There was also careful restraint.

It was as if he were afraid of waking a fragile dream.

"Claire Ashford." Lorenzo said my name one syllable at a time, as though he wanted to savor every sound. "Do you know how completely you disappeared these past three years? I had people check your movements and found that other than your mansion and the supermarket nearby, you went nowhere. At the time, I thought... I thought he had locked you away."

I leaned back in my chair with a self-deprecating smile. "Locked me away? In a way, yes."

Lorenzo's eyes darkened for a moment, but he didn't press me.

As longtime enemies of the Blackwells, the De Angelis family had enough channels to know everything that happened inside the Blackwell family.

That included Sienna moving in.

That included me being called a housekeeper.

That included Nathan pointing at me and saying, "In this home, what have you done besides cooking and cleaning?"

Lorenzo pushed a document toward me and tapped the page lightly with his index finger.

"Blackwell Group breached the contract unilaterally. Under the contract terms, the liquidated damages are three billion dollars."

I glanced at the document. My expression didn't change.

"That isn't enough. I'm not after damages."

I closed the document and pushed it back.

"I want Blackwell Group's stock price to fall below its IPO price. I want word to get out that Blackwell Group's cash flow has collapsed and that it's secretly seeking bankruptcy protection."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "But my dear Claire, that's false news."

"Does it matter whether a rumor is true?" I looked out the window. The sunlight cut the glass building into bright and dark halves. "The stock market believes whispers, not facts."

Lorenzo's smile widened. He set down his cup and leaned closer to look at me. The admiration in his eyes couldn't be hidden. "You have been away from the business world for three years, yet you still strike harder than anyone."

"Who says I've been away from it?" I lifted my coffee cup. "I've been handling knives every day. I was just using them to cut vegetables. Now Nathan is the one on the cutting board."

Lorenzo looked at me, and something brighter appeared in his eyes. It was a desire he had suppressed for too long and could finally stop hiding.

He lifted his own coffee cup and lightly touched the rim of mine. The porcelain cups gave a brief, clear clink.

"To the lunatic," he said.

I smiled, lifted my cup, and drained the coffee.