He Shamed Me At Proposal, I Took His Mafia Empire

Victor Atwell took the cigar Derek Cole handed him and drew in a slow breath. Through the haze of smoke, satisfaction lingered in his eyes. "The last time you were in the hospital for surgery to remove the bullet, Derek told you I was in Valdoria handling an underground deal and couldn't take your call. The truth was, I was in Northmere with Diana, watching the northern lights. The snow was cold, but that girl was burning hot. We did it five times before I finally stopped." My fingers moved to the left side of my chest before I realized it. The jagged bullet scar there throbbed with a dull ache. To close the deal with the Frost family, I went to the negotiation alone. But someone had leaked the information, and I walked straight into an assassination attempt. While I was running, a bullet hit my chest. Two inches closer, and the bullet would have gone straight through my heart. I clutched my bleeding chest and used the last of my strength to crawl into a filthy, foul-smelling sewer. Mud and blood covered me from head to toe. As my consciousness blurred, I called Victor again and again. I called him 27 times, but he didn't answer a single one. The sewer was freezing. Blood loss made my head spin. I collapsed against the wall in the filthy water, convinced I would die in that forgotten corner where no one would ever find me. Victor looked at my trembling fingers and sighed. "Derek did text me that you had been shot and were in surgery, but I was too busy to reply." The day I was taken to the private hospital, the surgery to remove the bullet lasted seven hours. Halfway through, the anesthesia wore off too early, but the doctors didn't dare increase the dose. I bit down hard on a wad of gauze and endured the agony of my flesh being cut open. Cold sweat soaked the entire operating table. When I came out of surgery, the first thing I said to Derek was, "Don't tell Victor. I don't want him to worry." After that, on countless late nights, Victor held me tightly and kissed the bullet scar on my chest with aching tenderness. His emerald green eyes were always full of regret. "I'm sorry, Adele. I came too late. I'll never let you get hurt again." So all of it had been a lie. My chest tightened as if a dull blade were dragging through it again and again. The pain was so sharp I could barely breathe. "Anything else?" I heard myself ask. He raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn't expected me to stay so calm, then gestured lightly with the cigar in his hand. "On your birthday last month, I was 4 hours late. That pistachio cream cake you made had melted while you waited. I told you there was traffic, but the truth was Diana wanted to feed seagulls that day, so I stayed with her by the sea." A light breeze passed through, scattering the ash from his cigar. I lowered my head and thought of that afternoon. The wind had felt the same then. Every year on my birthday, Victor would set everything aside for me. Even if it was an international arms deal worth hundreds of millions, he'd postpone it without hesitation just so he could spend the whole day with me. He would charter a private jet and take me to the Southern Icefields to watch the stars, or to the Orlan Plains to watch lions chase wildebeest. Sometimes he planned nothing at all, and the two of us would stay in the villa bedroom, spending the entire day wrapped in each other. But this year, I made his favorite pistachio cream cake myself. I filled a long table with dishes I had prepared myself. He never showed up. I called again and again, but all I got was one text. Victor: Stuck in traffic. I'll be home later. I waited from bright morning until the sun sank below the horizon. I waited until the cream melted into a sad puddle on the plate. Finally, he pushed open the villa door and hurried over to hold me. His handsome face was full of apology. "I'm sorry, Adele. The traffic was terrible." Then I caught the scent on him. His black suit smelled of damp, salty sea air. But I said nothing. I chose to believe him. Now I knew it had only been a lie I told myself. The tears finally spilled from my eyes. A wave of dizziness swept over me. A trace of pity flashed through Victor's emerald green eyes. Almost by instinct, he lifted his hand to wipe away my tears. I shoved him away with all my strength. Then I yanked off the cheap ring set with tiny diamonds and smashed it onto the ground. I moved too sharply. My elbow slammed into the tall champagne tower beside me. Dozens of flutes crashed down. Champagne soaked me from head to toe, and glass shards sliced open my arms. Warm blood mixed with cold champagne and stained the white silk gown I had chosen so carefully. Soaked and bleeding, I looked at the man in front of me. "Victor Atwell, does 10 years of love mean less to you than one moment of novelty?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had every right to be annoyed. "Adele, have you ever seen a mafia boss with only one woman? For 10 years, I gave you wealth, status, and more than enough respect. You should be satisfied. I promise you, the matriarch of this family will only be you. No one else. Other women are only entertainment." When he finished, he sighed, as if I were the one being unreasonable. Blood kept seeping from the small cuts on my arms, but I felt no pain at all. Only my chest felt as if a knife had been buried there. The pain nearly folded me in half. The man before me was tall and handsome. Those green eyes had once been filled with gentle love, and I had looked into them countless times. Now, all that was left in them was impatience. "Victor, do you think I stayed with you for the title?" He gave a soft laugh. "Or what else?"