Divorcing My Queen Cost Me An Empire

Siena POV:

I did not wait for Dante's response. I shoved past his stunned guards, took Gia by the wrist, and pulled her up the grand staircase toward my penthouse suite.

The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut behind us with a definitive thud. I threw the deadbolts, the sound of their seating loud in the sudden quiet.

Gia stood in the center of the room, her breathing shallow, her small frame rigid.

"Siena, what are we going to do?" she stammered, her eyes wide with panic.

Ignoring her for a moment, I strode to the massive oak bookshelf that covered the far wall. I pressed my palm flat against a seamlessly hidden panel. The wood clicked, swinging outward to reveal a safe of reinforced steel.

My fingers flew across the keypad, entering a thirty-two-digit alphanumeric code. The heavy door hissed as the vacuum seal broke.

Reaching inside, I extracted a stack of thick, leather-bound ledgers. My shadow books. For sixteen years, I had documented every dollar, every offshore account, every legitimate front I had bled into this marriage.

I picked up my phone and dialed a heavily encrypted number.

I had anticipated this betrayal from the moment the Vitiello girl arrived. For the past three hours, disguised as caterers and gift-bearers, my men had been infiltrating the compound, waiting for my signal.

Within minutes, the penthouse doors unlocked from the outside, the deadbolts sliding back with a sharp, metallic report.

Enforcer Giovanni Vitale stepped over the threshold. He was my father's most lethal soldier, a ghost embedded within the Moretti guard for years, waiting. He had neutralized the floor's security cameras and secured the private elevators.

Behind him walked three men in sharp, tailored suits. They were Rossi accountants—the brilliant, ruthless men who managed the lifeblood of the Moretti empire.

A dozen heavily armed Rossi soldiers filed in after them, their assault rifles held across their chests.

In that instant, the facade of the submissive wife dissolved entirely. I stood tall, rolled my shoulders back to straighten my spine, and looked at my men with the authority of my bloodline.

"Begin the audit," I ordered, my voice ringing with command. "Catalog everything. The Italian leather furniture, the crates of cash in the floor vault, the silk curtains."

Gia watched the orchestrated chaos unfold, her face frozen in shock.

"Siena…" she whispered as the horrifying realization dawned on her. The Morettis had never been my protectors. They had been my parasites.

My family's money was the only thing keeping them from bleeding out.

The penthouse doors swung open once more. Rosa strutted into the room, flanked by two bewildered Moretti guards.

"What is all this noise about?" she demanded, her voice shrill with an arrogance she had not earned.

I stalked toward her, my gaze fixed and lethal. I did not stop until I was inches from her face, invading her space.

I looked down at the glittering diamond collar against her collarbone. "That necklace belongs to the Rossi ledgers," I stated.

Rosa scoffed, taking a defensive step back. "Dante gave this to me," she sneered.

I snapped my fingers. Enforcer Vitale stepped forward, the slide of his combat knife leaving its sheath.

"You can remove it," I told her, my tone deadpan, "or my man will peel it from your skin."

Her face, with its carefully applied rose blush, went slack. The color stood out now, stark against her skin, like paint on a wax figure. Her hands shook as she reached up, unclasping the heavy diamonds and dropping them into Vitale's waiting, calloused hand.

Vitale inspected the piece under the light. He glanced at me. "The matching diamond hairpin is missing, Boss," he stated.

I looked Rosa dead in the terrified depths of her eyes. "You have one hour to produce the hairpin, or bring me its value in cash."

A sob caught in her throat before she turned and sprinted out of the room, her useless guards rushing after her.

A moment later, Carmela's personal handmaid appeared, trembling in the doorway. She looked terrified by the armed men.

"The… the Matriarch demands your presence in the courtyard," she squeaked.

I didn't bother to look at the girl. "Tell her I was exiled by her Capo," I said, flipping open a ledger. "I take orders from no one in this compound."

Gia stepped closer, her eyes darting between the armed men. "Did you plan this?" she asked softly.

I reached out, touching her cheek. "Omertà and patience have their limits, Gia. I've reached mine."

Pivoting on my heel, I turned to Enforcer Vitale and pointed toward the open door. "Our next target is the West Wing," I declared, my voice a promise of ruin. "Where Valeria Vitiello has set up her bridal suite."

I walked out of the penthouse, my soldiers forming an impenetrable wall around me, while a fleet of armored Rossi trucks idled at the rear gates, waiting to strip the Morettis bare.

The first chapter of their ruin was already written. The second was about to be carved into the walls of their home.