Sending You to Hell

On the evening of the dinner party, luxury cars were parked at the manor entrance.

Sebastian was dressed in a suit and tie, holding Winnie's hand as they walked down the stairs.

The haute couture gown was dazzling, but the faint slap mark on her cheek made her look a bit comical.

Sebastian stood at the top of the stairs, looking up at me.

"You should reflect on your actions at home. You can go out again when you learn to be magnanimous."

Winnie waved to me from downstairs. "Donna Quinn, don't worry. I'll take care of Don Quinn for you, and I'll also enjoy tonight's applause for you."

I nodded calmly. "Okay, I wish you a pleasant evening."

After Sebastian left, someone locked the door of the master bedroom on the second floor and removed all the communication devices.

The motorcade roared away, and the manor fell into a deathly silence.

I took out a mini phone from the closet and sent a text message to the encrypted number.

Nicola: [Start the operation.]

The signed divorce agreement was placed in a prominent position, with the shattered emerald pendant lying on top of it.

My fingertips touched the cold pendant, and suddenly I remembered the question Sebastian asked me.

Why did I not care about him? I cared. Seven years ago, I loved him more than anyone else.

I had been with him at the poker table where I could be shot at any moment and on the high seas where countless desperados surrounded the ship. In the end, all I got was his scandals, his lover's explicit photos, and the endless ridicule of others.

When I questioned him, Sebastian's explanation was always just a dismissive statement: "I love you, but it's impossible to demand that the Don have only one woman."

"Sebastian, I gave you love; you rejected it yourself." I said inwardly.

Without hesitation, I swallowed the capsule Ethan gave me.

A sharp, agonizing pain instantly struck me, and my internal organs churned. I gritted my teeth and knocked over the candlestick beside the bed in my last moments before losing consciousness.

Flames engulfed the carpet, and the smoke alarm blared.

Upon hearing the alarm and a loud crash, the Soldati outside burst through the door in a frantic rush. They found me on the floor, with the fire starting to spread.

"Quick! Call an ambulance! Notify Don Quinn!"

A Soldato checked my breath and trembled in fear.

My face was deathly pale, with no breath or pulse.

The ambulance arrived incredibly quickly.

The paramedics rushed in, swiftly lifted me onto a stretcher, and displayed the pre-prepared electrocardiogram to the Soldati—it was too late.

At the dinner party, Sebastian was clinking glasses with a European arms dealer, arrogantly declaring, "The Scott family's original shipping routes have all been converted into channels suitable for transporting firearms."

Other mafia members were toasting Sebastian. They openly discussed the illegal mining share in South America, praising Sebastian's ruthlessness and how he had tripled production as soon as he took over.

Sebastian's phone vibrated incessantly.

He hung up impatiently, but the caller called again. Sebastian picked up angrily. "I told you not to bother me unless the sky falls!"

A Soldato's trembling voice came from the other end of the line. "Don Quinn, the manor is on fire. The doctor announced Donna Quinn dead at the scene!"

Crack. The champagne glass in Sebastian's hand fell to the ground.

The surrounding guests' laughter instantly blurred. His mind went blank as he roared, "What nonsense are you spouting?"

Winnie tried to grab him, but Sebastian shoved her away violently, causing her to fall heavily to the ground. Her pale hand instantly scraped the ground, drawing red blood.

Ignoring the uproar, he stormed out of the hall like a lunatic.

By this time, I was already lying on a private medical jet bound for Zurich.

Ethan sat beside me, watching the heart rate curve on the monitor return to normal while tightly holding my icy hand. He whispered, "Nicola, welcome back. You're free from now on."