Chapter 4 - The Demolition
Richard froze. His arrogant smirk faltered as he looked between the dozen armed men and the absolute monster standing in front of him.
"Who are you?" Richard stammered, the first crack of genuine panic bleeding into his voice.
"I'm the man she left because she thought you were safe," Dante murmured, stepping onto the patio. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. "And you are Richard Trent. Respected architect. Beloved son-in-law."
Dante stopped inches from Richard.
"Tell me, Richard," Dante continued, his voice deathly calm. "Did you think I stopped watching her just because she walked away?"
Richard swallowed hard, physically shrinking back. "I... I'll call the police. The chief of police is inside at this wedding!"
"The chief of police," Dante corrected softly, "is currently enjoying a bottle of scotch I sent to his table ten minutes ago. He is not going to walk out that door."
Dante snapped his fingers. One of his men stepped forward and handed him a thick, black leather folder. Dante tossed it onto the wet cobblestones at Richard's feet.
"You build things, Richard," Dante said, tilting his head. "So let's talk about architecture. Your firm's largest client is a shell company based in the Caymans. A company that accounts for eighty percent of your revenue. A company that I own."
The color instantly drained from Richard's face. He looked at the folder on the ground.
"Tomorrow morning, that company is pulling all funding, severing all contracts, and initiating a forensic audit into the materials you've been embezzling," Dante stated, stripping Richard of his entire life with the casual tone of a man ordering coffee. "Your firm is bankrupt. Your licenses will be revoked by the state board by noon. Your house will be seized by the bank."
"You... you can't," Richard choked out, his knees buckling. The polished abuser was completely gone, replaced by a pathetic, terrified coward. "Nebula, tell him! We're married! You can't let him do this!"
I stood in the rain, looking at the man who had turned my life into a prison for three years.
"I didn't drink tonight, Richard," I whispered, wiping the blood from my mouth. "I'm perfectly sober."
Dante didn't lay a single finger on Richard. He didn't need to. He had just liquidated the man's entire existence.
Dante turned to me. He took off his heavy, warm overcoat and gently, reverently draped it over my shivering shoulders. It smelled like cedar, expensive cologne, and absolute safety.
"Are you ready to go, mia regina?" Dante asked softly.
"Yes," I breathed.
"Wait, please!" Richard sobbed, falling to his knees on the wet cobblestones, desperately grasping at the air as the reality of his total ruin crushed him. "I'm sorry! Don't leave me with nothing!"
Dante paused. He looked down at the weeping, shattered man on the ground.
May you like
"Be grateful I am leaving you with your breath," the Don whispered.
Dante placed a protective hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the waiting SUV. I didn't look back as we drove away, leaving my abusive husband kneeling in the freezing rain, surrounded by the shattered ruins of the world he thought he controlled.
