From Moretti's Asset to Another Queen

Eight years married. Pregnant with his heir.

I had just secured a fifty-million-dollar arms deal for his family.

When I returned home, I found him tangled up with another woman, Isabella.

The new girl had the nerve to sneer at me. "So you're the great Elena," she said. "The gutter rat who married up."

"You have no class. No grace. Marco's mine now."

"So abort the baby, sign the papers, and get the hell out."

I turned to my husband.

He didn't say a word.

Quietly, my hand found the documents in my purse.

The fifty-million-dollar deal he thought was his.

It was mine again.

I gave him one last look. A predator's smile.

"Marco," I asked, my voice sweet as poison. "Are you sure you want to lose me?"

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1

I married into the Moretti family when it was on the verge of collapse. For eight years, I used the money-laundering network and intelligence system I built from scratch to drag the family back from the brink.

Even Marco's parents, the Don and Donna Moretti, treated me with the utmost respect.

I thought Marco, of all people, would understand the stakes.

"Elena, let's separate," Marco mumbled, his gaze fixed on the tips of his shoes.

His voice was quiet, but beneath the helplessness, there was a tremor of resolve.

A high-pitched ringing pierced my ears—a cruel new symptom of my pregnancy. As if on cue, a sharp kick came from my belly.

I lunged forward and grabbed Marco by his tie.

"Are you serious? I'm five months pregnant, and you want to end our marriage now?"

Marco remained stubbornly silent.

The fury inside me intensified.

Classic Marco. Avoidance. Silence. His signature response to any problem.

I was about to speak again when a sharp female voice cut in from the side.

"Oh, that's enough. Get off your high horse. Marco is trying to let you down easy, for old times' sake. When a man says it's over, it's over. Anyone with an ounce of dignity would just pack their bags and vanish."

I was the one who brought Isabella into this family, caving after dozens of pleas on her behalf. I never thought I was inviting a viper into my own home.

She would pay for this.

Isabella took another step forward, closing in on me.

"Are you deaf? I'm talking to you, you cheap piece of trash..."

Before Isabella could finish, I swung my hand and slapped her hard across the face.

"That's to teach you how to speak to the Donna of this family!"

I raised my hand again, aiming for Isabella's other cheek.

But just as my hand was about to connect, it was caught in a firm grip.

Marco's face was a mess of conflict.

"That's enough, Elena. If you're going to hit someone, hit me. I'm the one who got drunk and knocked her up. She's just a kid. I have to be responsible for her."

My throat tightened.

Rage and indignation churned in my chest.

But I couldn't utter a single word.

Marco's health had never been the best; for Isabella to get pregnant so quickly...

This reeked of a long-premeditated plan.

I suddenly remembered how Marco, once a chain-smoker, had abruptly quit a while ago.

When I had asked him about it, he had wrapped me in his arms, his eyes full of tenderness, and whispered in my ear,

"Elena, you're pregnant. For you, the baby, and our future, I have to quit."

I thought the man had finally matured, that he was ready to take on his responsibilities.

I never imagined it was all so he could have a child with the little tramp standing in front of me.

A wave of nausea hit me, and I leaned against the wall, dry-heaving.

Marco rushed forward to support me.

He chose his words with care, his voice a low murmur beside me.

"Elena, I'm sorry. I messed up. I'll give you time... but we need to end the marriage before Isabella gives birth. Please, try to understand. Her baby can't be born without a father..."

The familiar scent of his cologne washed over me on the cool breeze.

My heaves grew more violent.

I shoved him away with all my might, a chilling smile fixed on my face as I stared at him.

"What is there to process? Let's do it now."

Then, my gaze fell on Isabella's barely showing belly.

"The child in her belly can't be without a father, and neither can mine. Let's get this done. I need to find my son a more powerful father."

An unreadable emotion flickered in Marco's eyes.

"Elena..."

"Marco, she already agreed! What are you waiting for? Get the annulment papers!"

Isabella interrupted Marco with a pout.

Taking advantage of his daze, she had already placed the printed agreement in my hands.

I glanced at it and suddenly laughed.

"Marco, I don't get a single penny of the family assets?"

"Elena, this is the Moretti family. It was ours long before you. Besides, you were a nobody from the streets when I found you. You have no claim to any of it—moral or legal."

I had been grateful, or I wouldn't have married into the Moretti family when it was at its lowest point.

I had dozens of money-laundering channels, and outsiders were offering hundreds of millions to partner with me.

But I had let the Moretti family use them for free for eight years.

Nine out of ten of the Moretti family's clients came to them because of my network.

And now, with this annulment, Marco wanted me to walk away with nothing.

"Elena, if you're not willing, I can give you a small portion of my personal shares..."

"No. I'll sign. Let's do it now."

Sign it, Marco. Once this marriage is void, so is your power. And the Moretti family will be nothing but an empty shell.