Divorcing The Don: Rise Of The Queen

Sera POV

The private clinic was a fortress of glass and steel.

It was the Family's most lucrative legitimate front—a high-end medical facility that catered to the city's elite while laundering millions through the basement pharmacy.

I walked through the sliding glass doors, the heavy legal folder a burning weight against my side.

The armed Soldiers stationed in the lobby immediately stood straighter.

They nodded respectfully, assuming the Mafia Queen was just bringing the Don his lunch.

I bypassed the reception desk and headed straight for the secure floor.

The elevator chimed, opening to a heavily guarded checkpoint.

Lucia was sitting on a plush leather sofa near the security desk, stroking a small, exotic cat that rested in her lap.

She looked up as I approached, her large brown eyes widening in a practiced display of innocence.

"Sera," she said softly, her voice carrying down the quiet corridor. "Are you here to cause trouble?"

I stopped in front of her, my gaze falling to the animal, then back up to her perfectly contoured face.

"You are," I said flatly.

Lucia clutched the cat to her chest. She glanced at the heavily armed guards flanking the checkpoint.

"In this brutal city, Dante is my only protector," she announced, her voice trembling just enough to sound authentic. "I do not understand why you hate me for relying on him."

The guards shifted uncomfortably, and I could feel their judgmental stares on me.

I ignored the performance. I walked to the security desk and dropped the thick legal folder onto the polished counter.

The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

"Give this to Dante," I told the head guard. "Tell him to sign it so Lucia can trust him legitimately."

Before the guard could move, the heavy oak door to Dante's private office swung open.

Dante stepped out, his dark suit impeccable, his expression lethal.

His eyes scanned the corridor, landing on the folder on the desk, then on me.

His brow furrowed in deep irritation as he closed the distance between us. He picked up the folder and shoved it back into my hands.

"Go home and cool off, Seraphina," he ordered, his voice a low rumble. "Before you embarrass the Family in front of the men."

Lucia rose from the sofa, the cat still in her arms. She took a hesitant step forward.

"Maybe I should leave, Dante," she whispered, looking down at the floor. "I do not want to disrupt your operations. Sera is clearly very upset with me."

"Why is an Associate bringing an animal into a sterile, secure medical zone?" I asked, my voice cutting through her pathetic display.

Lucia shrank back.

"He was frightened at the estate," she murmured.

"Rules bend for loyalty," Dante stated, stepping between me and Lucia.

He looked at me with eyes that held no warmth.

The guards muttered to each other—low whispers about my lack of understanding regarding Family dynamics.

"Go back to the estate, Seraphina," Dante commanded. "Now."

"I am not leaving until you sign the severance," I replied, holding the folder out again.

Dante did not touch the folder. His jaw tightened in disgust as he looked at the files I had carried through the public lobby. He snapped his fingers, gesturing to the head guard. "Dispose of that," he ordered, his eyes never leaving mine. The guard stepped forward, snatched the folder from my hands, and tossed it into a red biohazard bin near a medical supply cart.

I stared at the bin for a long moment.

Then, I slowly walked over and bent down to retrieve my files.

As I moved, Lucia let out a sharp gasp and stumbled backward.

"Keep her away from us, Dante!" she cried out. "He is terrified of her!"

Dante immediately reached out and gripped Lucia's elbow.

"Come inside," he told her softly. "It is safe in my office."

He escorted her past the security desk, leaving me kneeling by the trash.

I stood up, clutching the contaminated folder, and walked to the glass wall of his office.

"Dante," I called out, my voice loud enough to penetrate the thick glass.

He turned around, his face a mask of cold irritation.

"When your mother gets a headache, you mobilize half the city to find her a specialist," I said, staring right into his eyes. "When I lost our child, you did not even come home."

Dante froze, the muscles in his jaw pulling tight.

"I will have my lawyer deliver clean documents by tonight," I promised him.

I looked past his shoulder.

Lucia's cat had jumped onto Dante's massive mahogany desk, its paws trampling over the classified Family ledgers.

Dante did not even notice.

But I did. And I made a mental note of every single page those paws touched. One day soon, I would use that very image to illustrate the rot at the heart of his empire.