ALESSANDRO’S WRATH
1021 Words
The glass of scotch trembled in his hand.
Alessandro stared out at the city skyline, the lights below blinking like stars mocking him from the ground. He'd been quiet all evening. Calm, even. The type of calm that makes men uneasy. The type of calm just before a lion lunges.
"She ran," his assistant had said. "With Kyrkos."
Alessandro hadn't said a word at first. He simply turned the phone over on the table and stared at the fireplace. He hated fire. Too unpredictable. Too wild. But he hated weakness more. And Katie? She was becoming the most dangerous weakness of all.
He downed the scotch in one furious swallow and crushed the crystal in his palm. Glass sliced through skin, blood dripping onto the Persian rug—but he didn't even blink.
"She thinks she can run from me," he muttered, half to himself. "She thinks he can protect her."
A twisted smile curved on his lips as he picked up a white cloth and calmly dabbed at the blood.
"Let her hide. Let him think he's won."
He stood, his shadow stretching long and sharp across the floor.
"Kyrkos doesn't know what kind of war he just started."
He strode toward the hidden door behind the bookshelf, opened it with a palmprint, and entered the underground vault that held every secret, every file, every buried thing.
Photos. Bank records. Threats.
Power.
He pulled out a folder labeled Ayrgos and another labeled Yannis Kyrkos. Then, with gloved hands, he slid open a drawer full of burner phones. He dialed one number. The line picked up without a greeting.
"I want eyes on every airport within a 500-mile radius," he said. "Every port. Every hotel. I want them found. I want him destroyed. And I want her..."
He paused.
His eyes narrowed.
"I want her begging to come back."
Click.
Alessandro set the phone down and smiled to himself, a slow, cruel curve of satisfaction. This wasn't about love anymore. It was about dominance. About control. And Alessandro Castellanos?
He didn't lose.
*******
The sun hadn't even risen when the first trap was laid.
Alessandro sat at the long obsidian table in his private strategy room—flanked by his most trusted security analysts and digital operatives. No windows. Just screens. Dozens of them. Each flashing with satellite footage, camera intercepts, and confidential records.
He wore a custom suit, black on black, not a wrinkle or hair out of place—except for the gauze wrapped around his palm, where the glass had cut into him last night.
"Updates," he said coldly.
One of the men, slim with silver-rimmed glasses, cleared his throat. "We've identified the vehicle that left the Ayrgos estate last night. Kyrkos license plate, digitally obscured. But we ran thermal scans from two highway checkpoints—caught his signature."
Alessandro's lips twitched in satisfaction. "Where is he now?"
"His villa. Coastal property. Heavily secured. No drone footage yet—we've scrambled one of ours but the signal jammed halfway in."
Alessandro leaned forward. "Break the jam. I want live feed in under two hours. Get into his home security. Shut it down if necessary."
He turned to the woman seated at the far end of the table. "What about the girl?"
"Miss Ayrgos hasn't left the property since arriving. Facial recognition caught her at a second-floor window, confirmed via timestamp two hours ago. Looks like she's unaware we're tracking her."
Alessandro nodded once, then stood.
He walked to the largest screen on the wall—where Katie's face, caught in a still frame from the window footage, stared back at him. She looked peaceful. Safe. Untouchable.
It made his blood boil.
"Let me be very clear," he said, voice quiet but dangerous. "No one touches her. No bullets. No bruises. No threats."
He turned back to them.
"But I want her terrified. I want her desperate. I want every friend she ever had to disappear. Every credit card blocked. Every bank account frozen. I want the Ayrgos name to become a leash she cannot remove."
"And Kyrkos?".
Alessandro's smile was dark and deliberate. "Ruin him. Dig until you find something. Anyone he's hurt. Anyone who wants revenge. Fabricate if you must. I want the media to bleed him dry."
He stepped closer to the screen, brushing his fingers along Katie's frozen image.
"And then, when he is nothing—when she's alone—I'll come get her myself."
⸻
It started like most storms do—quietly.
A single headline.
"BREAKING: Billionaire Yannis Kyrkos Accused of Corporate Fraud and s****l Coercion — Exclusive Sources Speak Out"
Published by The Global Ledger, 7:03 AM.
Then another.
"Scandal at the Summit: Kyrkos Legal Empire Crumbling Amid Explosive Allegations"
— World Business Daily
"Who Is the Mystery Woman in the Scandal? Sources Point to Ex-PA Katie Ayrgos
— Celebrity Flame
And then came the photos.
Yannis exiting his villa.
Katie seen through a blurred second-floor window.
A grainy shot of them together on the Kyrkos estate grounds. One of Katie in a towel—clearly taken the morning they had escaped.
By 9:00 AM, his name was the #1 trending topic worldwide.
YANNIS CANCELLED
KATIE THE HOMEWRECKER
MURKY BUSINESS DEALS. s****l SCANDAL. BETRAYAL.
The media had a field day.
Every news outlet ran stories of how Yannis had abused his power, manipulated an employee, and stolen the fiancée of his best friend. There were whispers of offshore accounts, falsified documents, and investor deception. Things that didn't even make sense.
Half of it was fabricated.
The rest? Twisted out of context.
And Katie?
She became a weapon.
Her name was suddenly everywhere, tied to hashtags like:
#GoldDiggerKatie
#TheOtherWoman
#DestroyerOfFriendships
Paparazzi camped outside her old apartment and her family's estate. Her mother was followed to her spa appointments. Her father received hate mail from shareholders.
The world turned, cold and fast—and Alessandro watched it all unfold from his office, sipping his espresso as his phone lit up with congratulations from allies and enemies alike.
He had drawn first blood.
And now he was waiting—for the panic to set in.
- Writer
