She Endured Three Years of Torment Until a Merciless Underworld Kingpin Shattered Her Door and Unveiled the Bloodshed Behind Her Twelve-Million-Dollar Marriage

Julian’s face went completely ashen. For a second, the terrified man from the penthouse flickered behind his eyes, but he quickly plastered on a look of overwhelming relief.

"Elena! My god, darling," Julian rushed forward, reaching his arms out to embrace her.

Elena took one step back, raising her hand. "Do not touch me."

The rejection was so sharp, so publicly cold, that whispers instantly broke out among the guests.

"Elena, you’re confused, sweetheart," Julian said, lowering his voice to a menacing hiss that only she could hear. "You need to come with me to a private room. Right now."

"I am not confused, Julian," Elena replied, her voice remaining perfectly loud. "In fact, I have never been clearer. I want a divorce."

Gasps erupted from the socialites. Julian’s jaw clenched. His eyes darted around the room, spotting several large men in tuxedos subtly moving to block the exits. Gabriel’s men.

"And," Elena continued, pulling a small silver flash drive from her clutch purse. "I want to return the files you left in my studio. The ones detailing your offshore accounts and your connection to the Moretti cartel."

Pandemonium.

The mayor, standing nearby, took a step back in horror. Julian’s investors began whispering frantically.

Julian lost control. The facade shattered. "You lying bitch!" he roared, lunging forward to grab her.

Before his hands could touch her, a towering figure stepped out from behind a marble column. Gabriel Thorne, looking like a dark god in a tailored tuxedo, grabbed Julian by the throat and slammed him backward onto a catering table.