Azalea Vitiello POV
The slow, rhythmic sound of clapping sliced through the tense silence of the room.
Azura stood in the doorway, a silhouette of lethal elegance. She was flanked by two large men I recognized as freelance security contractors-mercenaries who answered to no one but her. They certainly didn't answer to the Vitiello family, and they definitely didn't answer to Caleb.
"Bravo, Caleb," Azura said, her voice smooth but dripping with venom. "You really are the big man on campus. Choking your wife while your side-piece bleeds on the Egyptian cotton sheets. How... classy."
Caleb straightened his tie, jerking his chin up in a futile attempt to regain his composure. "Get out of my house, Azura. This is a private matter."
Azura walked right up to him. She didn't flinch. She didn't hesitate.
She slapped him.
It wasn't emotional like mine had been. It was cold. It was calculated. A disrespect so profound in our world that the air seemed to vibrate with the shock of it.
"You violated the Code," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "You touched a Made woman in anger without cause. You aired family business to a civilian."
She pointed a manicured finger at Kimberly, who was still cowering on the bed, holding a towel to her face.
"Get her out of here," Caleb growled, though his voice lacked its usual thunder.
Azura turned to me, ignoring him completely. She helped me stand. Her eyes scanned my bruises, and her jaw tightened until a muscle feathered in her cheek.
"The movers are downstairs, Aza," she said softly. "Do you want your things?"
I looked around the room. The shattered glass. The broken rosary. The bed where they had slept. The ruin of a life I thought I loved.
"No," I said, my voice hollow.
I walked to the closet. My wedding dress was hanging there, preserved in plastic like a shrine. A custom Vera Wang. I ripped the plastic off, the crinkling sound harsh in the quiet room.
"What are you doing?" Caleb asked, stepping forward.
One of Azura's guards immediately stepped in his path. Caleb stopped short, eyeing the distinct bulge of a firearm under the man's jacket.
I took a pair of heavy shears from the vanity. I walked to the dress.
I jammed the scissors into the silk bodice. Caleb flinched as if I had stabbed him.
I dragged the blades down, ripping the fabric with a terrible, shrieking tearing sound. I shredded the lace. I destroyed the tulle. I desecrated the memory.
It took me two minutes to turn the symbol of our vows into a pile of shimmering rags.
I dropped the scissors. They clattered loudly against the hardwood.
"It is all contaminated," I said to the movers who had just appeared in the doorway, gesturing vaguely at the luxury surrounding us. "Leave it. I want nothing that has been in this house with her."
Kimberly, emboldened by Caleb's presence, shouted from the bed, her voice shrill and desperate. "You're just jealous! You know he never really wanted you! He told me you just laid there like a dead fish!"
Azura spun around, her eyes narrowing into slits.
"One more word," she hissed, "and I will sue you for alienation of affection, intentional infliction of emotional distress, and then I will let the streets handle the rest."
Kimberly shut her mouth with an audible click.
I looked at Caleb one last time. He looked small. He was surrounded by his power, his penthouse, his mistress, but stripped of my admiration, he looked small.
"You built this empire on my back, Caleb," I said softly. "You used my name to wash your money. You used my face to make the politicians trust you."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I built this. I am the Architect. You were just the bank."
I smiled. It was a sad, broken thing.
"The bank is closed, Caleb."
I turned to walk out.
"You cannot leave me!" he shouted after me, panic finally seeping into his tone. "You own thirty percent of the laundering front! You cannot just walk away!"
I stopped at the door, my hand hovering over the frame.
"Watch me."
I walked out of the penthouse, leaving everything behind. My clothes, my jewelry, my past. As the elevator doors slid closed, I heard the satisfying sound of Caleb throwing something heavy against the wall.
Silence settled over us in the elevator, heavy and final.
Azura handed me a tablet once we were settled in the back of her car.
"What is this?" I asked.
"The divorce papers," she said. "And the liquidation authorization."
I looked at the screen, the glowing light reflecting in my tired eyes.
"I want to sell my shares," I said.
"To who?" Azura asked, pausing.
I thought about the rival Irish mob. The ones Caleb had been fighting a bloody war with for territory on the docks. Mark Ellison.
"Sell them to Ellison," I said.
Azura's eyes widened, her composure slipping for the first time. "That will start a war, Aza."
I looked out the window at the city skyline, watching the lights blur as we sped away.
"Good," I whispered. "Let it burn."
