His Joke Our Shattered Vow

Nikolai trailed off, then looked at me seriously.

"Don't worry, I'll formally introduce you this time. I won't let Katarina cause any more trouble."

I looked up and met his gaze calmly. I knew this was his clumsy attempt to make up for the other night.

This suited me perfectly. The transfer of control for the Free Port would take a few days to process, anyway.

The gala would be the perfect stage for my announcement.

That evening, as usual, I arrived at the restaurant early to wait for him.

After a decade with him, it was pure habit.

While waiting, I received an encrypted call.

It was Marco Carbone, the Don of the Carbone family. He was also an old friend from college.

Marco's tone was lighthearted. "Rowan," he chuckled, "have you reconsidered my proposal? I want you on my team. The Volkov family is too small to contain a talent like yours."

This was the third time he had tried to poach me.

The first time was seven years ago. I had just turned down a high-paying Wall Street job to join Nikolai's fledgling organization—a crew with nothing, one that could be wiped out by rivals at any moment.

My salary, which was symbolic at best, was poured back into building our shared future.

Marco had argued with me until he was blue in the face, but I wouldn't be swayed.

The second time was a few days ago, across a negotiation table where I, representing the Volkov family, had backed him into a corner.

At the end, he'd said to me, half in admiration and half in warning, "Rowan, I hear you have no official title with the Volkovs and live on a small allowance. Come work for me. Don't waste your talent on a fool who doesn't appreciate it."

I smiled and declined. How could my talent be wasted?

That was Nikolai's family. It was the empire we had spent seven years building together.

Now, he was trying for the third time.

I hesitated for only three seconds. Then, I signaled the waiter for a bottle of aged whiskey and accepted his offer.

"Send me the address. I'll be there next Tuesday."

Marco was stunned silent for a beat, then burst into an ecstatic laugh.

He practically shouted, "That's great!" and hung up, as if terrified I'd change my mind.

I was smiling as I lowered my phone, but then a notification popped up.

It was from Nikolai.

[Change of plans. Katarina couldn't wait, so I'm taking her on the earliest flight out. Have dinner by yourself. I'll bring you back a surprise.]

A moment later, Katarina posted on social media, the visibility set only for me.

[Thank you to my knight for making my dream come true. Tomorrow, I'm going to prepare a grand meal for him as a reward!]

The accompanying picture was of Katarina clinging to Nikolai's arm on the balcony of the Lake Como villa.

The pose was identical to the one in our photo from seven years ago.

I stared at the image for two seconds, then calmly opened my chat with Marco.

[I'll be bringing a joining gift. How would you like control of the entire 'Free Port'?]

My phone was silent for a moment. Then it started vibrating frantically.

[YES! YES! YES! You're a miracle! It was your birthday yesterday, right? The gift I sent should have arrived. Don't forget to pick it up!]

I froze. A small laugh escaped me, growing louder and louder.

Right. Yesterday was my birthday.

When Nikolai showed me that blurry scar on his arm, had he remembered the date?

Lying alone in that clinic bed while he was off comforting another woman... did it ever once cross his mind to buy a gift for his wife of five years?

Probably not.

But it didn't matter anymore. We were done.

Who would want a birthday gift from a soon-to-be ex-husband, anyway?

After dinner, I didn't rest. I threw myself into preparing the transfer documents for the Free Port.