POV Isabella
Early morning, I woke up in another one of my apartments. The faint scent of his expensive cologne lingered on the pillow, like the only trace that he had ever existed.
My hand instinctively reached to the other side of the bed, searching for the weapon and partner I used to hold, but there were only cold sheets.
I couldn't help but force out a bitter laugh from my throat.
I picked up the encrypted phone from the nightstand. The screen was full of messages Julian sent late at night.
His texts were full of pleas, saying he missed me, saying he needed his consigliere.
I casually tossed the phone back onto the bed. My hand fell on my flat abdomen, and my fingertips traced the line of the remaining scar. My body couldn't help but twitch, as if the nerve endings had been severed.
I walked to the front door, pulled back the heavy steel lock, and found a brown paper bag on the doormat.
The bag was full of my handmade pastries, and on top of it was a note personally written by the underboss.
I didn't bother to read his explanation and just kicked the paper bag down the stairs.
I put on a sharp black suit and arrived on time at the Romano & Rossi Law Firm.
This was the massive corporate front we built together to launder the family's dirty money, a towering monument to our shared ambition.
I walked toward the private executive elevator, the crisp sound of my heels striking the marble floor echoing in the lobby.
The elevator doors slid open.
Julian and Sophia stood inside, their fingers tightly intertwined.
A smug smile hung on Sophia's face, while Julian looked panicked.
I maintained a cold posture, took a step back, and turned to leave.
I disdained being in the same room as betrayers.
Just at the moment the elevator doors were about to close, they suddenly popped open.
Julian rushed out and caught up with me in the marble corridor, his composure completely crumbling.
He blocked my path, lowered his voice, and urgently proposed to give me three lucrative illegal territories and a higher percentage of the weapons trade shares.
I looked up straight into his face.
"Can this wealth buy back the Julian from seven years ago?"
"The man I deeply loved was the one who would rather die than betray me!"
He opened his mouth to say something, but not a single word came out.
"I want to take an additional ten percent of the legitimate shares of this company as my immediate severance pay."
He remained noncommittal.
I stared at him, recalling the blood we once shed to build this place.
I remembered those late nights when we quietly treated gunshot wounds, and I remembered the vision we once shared.
But now, looking at the stranger in front of me, I only saw a man I used to know.
Sophia walked up behind him, the triumphant smile still on her face.
I walked past her, not giving her a single reaction.
I stepped into the lobby. Dozens of family members and subordinates stopped talking and lowered their heads, but I knew what they were discussing—nothing more than the romantic scandals surrounding the underboss.
I walked to the reception desk and demanded to take the share documents that belonged to me.
