President's Ex-Wife, Mafia Family's Precious Princess

Close to eleven o'clock, Shawn emerged from the shower room.

He lingered beside the mattress, staring down at the screen gripped tightly in his palm. Their conversation history looked painfully one-sided. Every message came from him. Every missed call belonged to him too.

His jaw hardened.

Melanie had never shut him out before. Not once.

Usually, she was the first to give in. She would call, text, apologize, and smooth things over before he even had to ask. That pattern had always remained unchanged.

Yet tonight, the silence had stretched on for three straight hours.

He tried reaching her again. The ringtone sounded four times before the connection abruptly cut off. When he dialed once more, the call skipped almost immediately to voicemail.

With a curse under his breath, Shawn tossed the phone onto the sheets and roughly pulled at the neckline of his robe, irritation blazing hotter by the second.

He strode toward the dressing room, intending to change clothes, then suddenly halted.

Something was missing. The pile of simple clothes Melanie always wore around the house, faded jeans and soft white shirts that looked plain and outdated, had vanished from the corner.

He jerked open one of the drawers nearby. Inside sat every piece of jewelry he had ever purchased for her: bracelets, rings, earrings, necklaces. None had been touched. Several still carried their original tags.

She had taken only what belonged to her.

A terrible understanding settled over him at once. Melanie was gone for good.

The anger evaporated instantly, swallowed by an icy sense of panic.

He immediately rang Allen's private number. When the call connected, his tone came out sharp and deadly calm. "Locate Melanie immediately."

A brief silence followed before Allen answered carefully, "Mr. President... There's no sign of her anywhere. She hasn't booked a hotel, rented a place, or used any of her cards. I checked every account connected to her name. Nothing turned up."

Shawn's expression darkened further. "She's still human. She needs somewhere to stay and something to eat. People don't vanish into thin air. Question everyone close to her."

"Yes, Mr. President." The call ended.

...

Far from the city, Melanie sat quietly inside the small bungalow that had once belonged to her mother in the old neighborhood.

The tiny house felt crowded with aging furniture, its lone window overlooking a narrow patch of yard outside.

Her phone rested upside down near her plate with the sound muted. The display kept glowing repeatedly before fading black again.

She glanced at it briefly.

Four missed calls. Three unread texts. The messages had shifted from impatience to authority, then finally to fury. All coming from Shawn.

Without reacting, Melanie turned the phone over again and continued eating her meal.

She understood Shawn too well. He was not searching for her because he cared. What he wanted back was her devotion, the obedient version of her that revolved around him.

After dinner, she prepared to leave the house. She needed work. She needed a fresh beginning.

The moment she stepped outside, she froze. Steady footsteps reached her ears.

A group of men approached.

Lifting her gaze, Melanie saw two straight lines of bodyguards stationed before the gate.

Every one of them wore black suits and dark glasses, standing motionless with military discipline. Together, they radiated an oppressive kind of authority.

At the center stood a man.

A perfectly fitted black coat hung from his tall frame. His face carried sharp, striking features, while his eyes held an intimidating chill. Even without speaking, he dominated the entire space around him.

Then he saw her. Instantly, the coldness disappeared from his expression. Concern and unbearable relief softened his face instead.

"Melly... I finally found you." His voice trembled faintly, as though emotion was making it difficult for him to continue.

Melanie stared blankly. "Who are you?"

She was certain they had never met before. Still, the instant their eyes locked, something stirred inside her chest. It was not anxiety or fear. It felt strangely familiar, warm in a way she could not explain.

"My name is Vincent Reid. I'm your older brother. I came to bring you home," he replied quietly.

Shock flashed across her face. Brother? Her real family had actually found her?

Seeing her confusion, Vincent reached into his coat pocket and removed an object.

It was a pendant exactly like the one hanging from her own neck.

An elegant engraved letter "R" decorated the back.

Melanie's fingers shook uncontrollably.

She tried to speak, but emotion tightened painfully around her throat.

"For twenty years, we searched for you. When you were five years old, you disappeared. Mom and Dad never gave up," Vincent said hoarsely.

Tears filled Melanie's eyes instantly.

A second later, Vincent crossed the distance between them and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

Every ounce of grief she had buried and every wall she had painstakingly built collapsed completely.

One thought repeated endlessly inside her mind. She still had a family.

Vincent held her carefully, one hand moving soothingly along her back. "You're safe now. No one will mistreat you ever again."

That reassurance broke the final barrier holding her together.

A sob escaped her violently.

Then the tears would not stop as she cried through broken breaths, "I have parents... And a brother... I'm not alone anymore."

"You never will be again. Everyone has been waiting for your return. From this day forward, we stay together as a family," Vincent promised. A dangerous edge entered his expression afterward. "As for what the Becker family owes you, I'll make them repay every last bit of it."

The more he spoke, the colder his gaze became.

By the final sentence, every trace of gentleness had vanished completely.

Melanie looked at the stranger who had suddenly become her brother, emotions colliding chaotically inside her chest.

Her mother's final words resurfaced in her memory. One day, she would return to her true family.

She simply never expected that day to arrive this quickly.

"Vincent..." she said softly, testing the name aloud.

A slight shudder passed through him. He answered only with a quiet nod and a rough exhale.

Her eyes drifted toward the rows of silent men behind him before she finally voiced the question lingering in her thoughts. "What kind of family are we exactly?"

A faint smile curved Vincent's mouth, dangerous and unreadable. "What do you think, Melly?"

Before she could respond, an enraged shout exploded from behind them. "What the hell is going on here?!"