My Ex's Regret: Married To His Enemy

Sienna POV

Kieran’s features settled into a stillness that was more unsettling than any rage.

"You do not get to throw tantrums here, Sienna," he warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

I did not answer him. I turned on my heel, walked straight into my private office, and the thick glass door clicked shut in its frame behind me. I sat at my desk and pulled up the encrypted syndicate network.

I typed out my formal resignation, bypassing standard channels to trigger the Omertà severance protocols. It meant I was walking away with nothing. No money. No protection.

I hit send.

Sixty seconds later, my computer screen flashed. The resignation was approved.

My desk phone rang immediately, the shrill, electronic summons cutting through the quiet. I picked it up.

"Elena is just a figurehead," Kieran said smoothly through the receiver. His tone was cold and authoritative. "She needs help managing the shadow investors. You know the accounts better than anyone."

I started opening my desk drawers, silently pulling out my personal files.

"Once you correct this attitude of yours, I will give you your rightful rank back," Kieran continued. He spoke to me like I was a disobedient child.

I tossed a stack of folders into a cardboard box, the heavy thud echoing in the quiet room.

"I am giving you exactly five minutes to retract that email," Kieran said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "If you do not, I will enforce your exile. You will have nothing."

I stared at the darkened computer screen. I pictured him sitting in his massive office, arrogant and untouchable, fully believing I would crawl back to him.

I hung up the phone.

An exhaustion so profound it felt like a sickness settled in my bones, making each movement a negotiation against gravity. I spent the next few hours packing my operational files.

I carried my box downstairs to the exclusive underground restaurant on the ground floor. I needed food.

I walked past the host stand, but suddenly, a loud ringing filled my ears. The edges of my vision began to fray. My knees buckled.

I collapsed onto the hard marble floor, the impact jarring my bones.

Before consciousness could fully desert me, strong hands grabbed my shoulders. Someone lifted me off the ground, and the smell of expensive cologne and gun oil filled my nose.

"Drink this."

A glass was pressed to my lips, and I swallowed the sugary liquid automatically. Someone forced a piece of dark chocolate into my mouth, the sweetness shocking my system awake.

My vision slowly cleared. I was sitting in a plush leather booth. Kieran was leaning over me, his hands still gripping my arms with bruising intensity.

Elena was standing behind him, a flicker of irritation tightening the corners of her mouth.

I pushed Kieran’s hands away. I sat up straight and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Thank you," I said coldly. "You can leave now."

Kieran did not move. Instead, he slid into the booth across from me. Elena hastily sat down next to him.

"We are not leaving," Kieran said, casually signaling a waiter. "Elena likes this specific table. It is the only one available."

He was not asking me to leave; he was commanding it, using her as the instrument of his authority.

"He knows all my favorite things," Elena said. She deliberately leaned her head against Kieran's shoulder, looking at me with a triumphant smile.

The food I had craved moments before turned to ash in my mouth. I picked up my glass and downed the rest of the sugary drink in silence.

Kieran reached into his tailored jacket, pulling out his black burner phone. He placed it dead center on the table between us, the soft clack of plastic against wood echoing like a gunshot.

It was a silent command. He was waiting for me to pick it up, call his office line, beg for forgiveness, and call off my resignation.

I looked at the phone. Then I looked up at Kieran, meeting his unwavering, arrogant gaze.

I reached out my hand, my fingers brushing the smooth casing as I picked up the black phone.

Kieran smirked, a dark, victorious curve of his lips.

I moved my hand to the right and released his phone into a pitcher of ice water on the table, watching the dark shape of it sink as his victorious expression went under with it.