Chapter 8
641words
Marco still hadn't given up.
A man like him always has this delusional confidence. He thought I was just acting out in a fit of rage, that if he just lowered his head, I’d go soft because of our five-year history.
That night, I was inspecting the "Royal Casino," a property under the family name.
As soon as I reached the entrance, I saw Marco blocking the door. He was wearing that suit, now wrinkled, and holding a huge bouquet of roses.
Sophia wasn't with him; she was probably off hiding from the loan sharks.
When he saw me come out, Marco’s eyes lit up. He rushed over, trying to grab my hand.
"Elena! Baby! I knew I’d find you here!"
The bodyguards immediately stepped in, stopping him six feet away.
Marco didn't get angry. He shouted over the bodyguards:
"Honey, stop this. I know I was wrong that day. I shouldn't have kicked you out just to save face. But I was tricked by that bitch Sophia!"
"I've already dumped that woman! Right now, my heart only belongs to you. Let's go home, okay? I'll make your favorite tomato pasta."
The guests around us stopped to watch the show.
I looked at his act of deep devotion and found it laughable.
"Go home?" I said coldly. "What home?"
Marco paused for a second, then put on an ingratiating smile.
"Our villa, of course. Even though the assets are frozen, I still have my stash. As long as you come back with me, with my talent and your connections to the Corleone family, we can make a comeback in no time..."
"Marco, are you forgetting something?"
I snapped my fingers.
My assistant behind me handed over a document.
"I am the legal owner of that villa. The companies you started are also registered under my shell corporations."
I threw the copy of the document in his face.
"Ten minutes ago, I had my lawyers initiate liquidation proceedings."
"The bank has already repossessed your villa. And your secret account? It was just frozen on suspicion of money laundering."
Marco's face went instantly pale. The roses fell from his hands to the ground.
"What? No... impossible! I built all of that!"
"You built it, but the name on the paper is mine," I said with a smile. "Back then, you said you wanted to put all the assets in my name to show your trust in me. What, did you forget?"
Marco trembled all over.
That was the tactic he used to trick me into slaving away for him; he never expected it to become his death warrant.
"Elena... you can't be this cruel..."
"Cruel?" I raised an eyebrow. "I can do much worse."
I looked at the valet standing nearby.
"Can this gentleman afford the tip?"
The valet had just parked the sports car Marco still had—for now—and was waiting for his cash.
Marco frantically patted down all his pockets but couldn't even find a single bill.
"No money?" The valet's expression changed. "Why drive a luxury car if you're broke? Trying to act like a big shot?"
"Get lost! Don't block the way for our VIPs!"
Several security guards rushed up and shoved Marco.
Marco was pushed to the ground, his expensive suit stained with muddy water.
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with pleading.
"Elena... give me some money... even just a hundred bucks... I can't afford to eat..."
I looked down at him, pulled a coin from my bag, and tossed it casually into the roadside sewer.
"You want money? Go down there and get it."
With that, I turned and got into the Rolls-Royce my brother sent for me.
In the rearview mirror, Marco was kneeling on the ground, staring dead at that sewer grate, looking like a desperate dog.
