I Married The Villain To Destroy You

The elevator doors to the Fuco Group headquarters slid open with a soft, deferential chime. I stepped out, my stilettos clicking rhythmically against the polished concrete floor, echoing like a countdown. This was my domain. Marco might be a Capo on the streets, playing gangster with his boys, but in this building? I was God. Marco was already in his office, feet propped up on the mahogany desk, barking into his phone. He didn't hear me enter. In fact, he didn't acknowledge my existence until I pressed the button on the wall that engaged the magnetic locks on the glass doors. The sharp click made him look up. "Elara? What are you doing here? I'm busy." I ignored the question and walked straight to the desk. Miguel, my head of security, stood like a sentinel by the door. He didn't look at Marco. He looked at me. I gave a singular, sharp nod. Immediately, Miguel turned his back to the glass, his broad frame effectively blocking the view from the bullpen outside. "I need your fingerprint, Marco," I said, my voice void of warmth. He laughed, a harsh, dismissive sound, and dropped his phone onto the desk. "For what? Another charity gala authorization? Just forge it, babe." I didn't smile. I rounded the desk, invading his personal space. On cue, Leo, my lead tech specialist, slipped in from the side door, a tablet glowing in his hands. "What is this?" Marco asked, finally swinging his legs down, his brow furrowing. Leo wasted no time connecting a cable to Marco's laptop. "We are auditing the accounts, Marco," I stated flatly. "Auditing? Are you crazy? You don't audit the Family accounts." "I do when the numbers don't add up," I lied effortlessly. Before he could protest further, I grabbed his right wrist. He tried to pull away, annoyance flashing in his dark eyes. "Elara, stop it. You're being annoying." I didn't let go. Instead, I slammed his hand down onto the biometric scanner Leo held out. "Hey!" he shouted, trying to rise. I shoved him back down by his shoulder. For a woman who had spent years playing the role of the submissive wife, the sheer strength in my arm stunned him into momentary silence. "Sit down," I ordered. The scanner beeped a cheerful green. Access granted. Leo's fingers flew across the tablet screen. "I have the ledger," Leo murmured. "Mirroring the drive now." Marco looked between us, genuine confusion finally dawning on his face. "What are you doing?" "I'm saving my company," I said, my voice ice. Leo unplugged the cable. "Done." I stepped back, smoothing my blazer. Marco stood up, his face reddening with delayed rage. "You don't have the authority to touch those files. Nonna will hear about this." "Nonna will hear about a lot of things tonight," I promised. I turned on my heel to leave. "Where are you going?" he demanded. "To get ready for the gala," I said over my shoulder. "You should too. You smell like guilt." I walked out of the office, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had the proof. I had the leverage. Minutes later, I sat in the back of my armored Rolls Royce as it pulled smoothly away from the curb. I opened the file Leo had pushed to my phone. Spyware installed. I could see everything. Every text Marco sent. Every call he made. A text popped up on his screen in real-time, mirrored on mine. Sienna: I'm nervous about tonight, baby. Will she be there? Marco: Don't worry. She's clueless. Tonight, everyone will see who the real mother of my heir is. I stared at the screen, the pixels blurring slightly. He was bringing her. To the Vitiello annual gala. He was bringing his mistress to the one event where appearances meant everything. He wasn't just cheating on me. He was planning a public execution of my social standing. Slowly, deliberately, I placed a hand on my flat stomach. He wanted an heir? He was about to lose two.