I Divorced the Don and Took His EmpireChapter 1

Just because his mistress said she didn't like condoms, Don Adrian Moretti booked a vasectomy that very night.

Before he went into the operating room, he unlocked his phone in front of me for the first time.

"Passcode's 010298. Look through whatever you want."

"But when I come out of surgery, you'll have divorce papers waiting."

When he spoke again, his voice turned so gentle he sounded like a different person entirely.

"Hey. Don't be scared. It's just a minor procedure."

"You know the codes to all the bank cards and the safe. If anyone gives you trouble while I'm recovering, that money is your safety net."

When he said "anyone," his gaze flicked to me—just for a second, neither sharp nor soft.

After all, three years ago, the first time I discovered Don Moretti was having an affair, I'd gone half-mad trying to track the woman down.

Tailing him. Sneaking photographs. Pulling hotel records, flight manifests, every private itinerary he had.

But apart from the university tuition he wired to some girl on a regular basis, I found nothing.

Adrian was the Don of the Moretti family. Hiding a woman was child's play for him.

When I said nothing for too long, he finally lost patience.

"Elena, I'm tired. Three years of this—I'm done."

"When I wake up, just let me go. Can you do that?"

The medical staff began ushering him toward pre-op. I calmly locked the phone he'd handed me inside a storage locker.

What he didn't know was that the car accident he'd arranged last week—his punishment for me tracking down Clara's address—hadn't just left me in the ICU for seven straight days.

It had also taken our only child.

This cat-and-mouse game—he wasn't the only one who was tired.

When he saw that I'd actually started contacting a lawyer, Adrian's expression darkened. He immediately turned to his assistant, Lucas.

"Put another team on her. I want eyes on every move Elena makes."

"Also, Elena is suspended from her position as Executive Director, effective immediately."

Cold intent surfaced in his eyes.

"Don't try using divorce to force my hand. That trick doesn't work on me."

"And don't think I don't know what you're scheming. Some people are off-limits to you."

A nurse stepped forward with the pre-op checklist.

"Mr. Moretti, just a final confirmation before surgery. How long have you been fasting—no food or drink?"

Adrian frowned, but before he could answer, I spoke first.

"Eight hours without food. Three hours without liquids."

"Any history of drug allergies?"

"Penicillin allergy. It's triggered a rash before."

The nurse asked a few more questions.

One after another, I answered them all. Adrian stared at me the entire time, his eyes dark and unreadable.

The nurse smiled.

"Mr. Moretti, your family really does care about your health."

"Family?"

He let out a scoff.

"She won't be for much longer."

"Memorizing every last detail of my life doesn't change a thing."

If this had been before, I would have lost my mind demanding to know what Clara had that I didn't.

But now, I just stayed silent.

Before long, the light above the operating room switched on.

I looked away and picked up the overnight bag from the corner.

It was supposed to hold my change of clothes and toiletries. But the moment I lifted it, it was far too light.

I unzipped it. Empty.

Lucas walked over, visibly uncomfortable.

"Ma'am, the Boss ordered us to throw out everything inside."

"He was worried you might... bring something inappropriate into the hospital."

I let the bag drop from my hand, and suddenly I almost wanted to laugh.

How paranoid did he have to be to have a few pieces of clothing inspected and confiscated?

I tossed the empty bag into the trash, took a deep breath, and then dropped Adrian's phone in after it.

The moment I stepped out of the hospital, a message from Maya lit up my screen.

"Girl! I heard Adrian actually handed over his phone and let you go through it?"

"Three years of hiding everything, and he finally grew a conscience?"

I replied, too exhausted for anything but honesty.

"He just couldn't be bothered to pretend anymore."

A long silence from her end.

"So are you still digging? Clara should be back in Chicago by now."

Clara was the girl Adrian had been shielding for three years.

She'd studied finance at the University of Chicago. During her master's program, Adrian had sent her to London on a two-year exchange. After she returned, she formally joined Moretti Holdings as an intern.

He thought he'd hidden it all so well.

But I'd already uncovered plenty.

For three years, all I'd been doing was tearing down my own conclusions and rebuilding them, over and over again—confirming the one thing I didn't want to believe: Adrian Moretti had stopped loving me.

This time, I didn't have the patience to keep playing along.

"I'm done looking."