My own bedroom stared back at me from the screen.

And on my bed, a tangle of limbs. Marco and Isabella.

She was wearing my silk nightgown, her moans echoing in my sanctuary.

"So, do you actually love her?" Isabella’s voice dripped with venom.

Marco's voice was muffled against her neck, thick with lust, but the words came through crystal clear:

"Love her? Please. I've been playing a role for ten years, and I'm sick of pretending. Without her trust fund and the Moretti name, I wouldn't waste my time touching her."

Isabella giggled. "What if she finds out? The Moretti family... they're not just some old money, are they? Aren't they... Mafia?"

"What's to be afraid of?" Marco's voice was dripping with arrogance. "The Morettis are a ghost story. They're finished. She thinks I don't know who she is? I've known for a decade. She's just some stupid woman with a pile of cash. I can play her however I want."

I fast-forwarded through the rest of the filth.

A wave of nausea hit me.

Disgusted that they would defile my bed.

Disgusted that he dismissed the Moretti name as history.

But most of all, disgusted that for ten years, I had been his prize canary, trapped in a golden cage.

He thought I was a nobody.

I scanned the report.

The title: Background Check on Elena Moretti. The date was ten years ago.

It detailed everything. How Marco hired the P.I. to find out who I was.

The size of my trust fund. Even our first "chance" meeting at that coffee shop. It was all a setup.

The last page read:

"Recommendation: Target is an orphan. Family legacy: Extinct. No powerful connections. Possesses significant personal wealth. Target is vulnerable. Prime for a long-term play to secure financial assets. Risk level: Low."

Low risk.

What did he think I was?

A lamb for the slaughter?

My ten-year marriage. Everything I gave.

From start to finish, it was all a carefully planned scam.

My body trembled. I wanted to strangle Marco right then and there.

Then the doorbell rang.

The first guests had arrived.

Marco instantly put on his game face. Isabella took his arm, ready to greet them.

I saw my mother's bracelet sparkling on that bitch's wrist. The rage in my chest was about to explode.

"I need to powder my nose," I said flatly.

Marco waved a hand without turning. "Go ahead. And remember, don't embarrass me tonight."

Don't embarrass him?

I went upstairs, a cold smile on my face, and walked into the bedroom. I locked the door.

From the nightstand, I took out a burner phone. One Marco had never seen.

It was from Tony. For emergencies.

I dialed a number.

"Tony, it's me."

"Boss?" Tony's voice was a mix of shock and excitement. "You're finally calling."

"I need you to do a few things for me." I walked to the window, watching the guests arrive below. "Right now."

"Name it, Boss."

I watched Marco shaking hands and smiling downstairs. A cold curve formed on my lips.

"I'm going to burn his entire world to the ground. In front of every single person here. Have a car ready in an hour."

They wanted to humiliate me? Fine. I'd turn their celebration into a funeral.

I fixed my makeup and went downstairs, carrying a small clutch.

The living room was packed. Thirty of New York’s biggest sharks, all circling in my living room.

Marco was talking to Mr. Henderson. Isabella was by his side, smiling elegantly. My mother's bracelet was blinding under the lights.

"Elena!" Marco saw me and waved me over. "Come meet Mr. Henderson."

"Mr. Henderson, a pleasure," I said, shaking his hand politely.

"Marco always says you're a brilliant artist," Henderson said with a smile.

Just as the schmoozing hit its peak, Marco's assistant rushed over, panicked.

"Bad news! Mr. Johnson from Blackstone just called. He has an emergency board meeting. He can't make it tonight!"

The color drained from Marco's face. Johnson was his most important guest.

"What? Didn't they confirm?" Marco's voice was sharp.

Henderson frowned. "Johnson bailed last minute? That's not like him."

I watched Marco start to unravel. I felt nothing.

This was just the beginning.

Just then, a crew of thugs in cheap suits crashed the party.

"Marco Ricci, you son of a bitch!" one of them roared. "Where's our money? The return you promised on our investment!"

The room went silent.

Marco's face was white. "Who are you? Security!"

"We're your early investors!" another man shouted, pointing at Marco. "You took our money, and now that your company's gone public, you're trying to cut us out?"

Guests started whispering, giving Marco strange looks.

"That's nonsense!" Marco tried to stay calm. "I don't know you!"

"You don't?" The first man pulled out a stack of papers and waved them around. "Are these contracts fake? Marco Ricci, you're nothing but a goddamn con artist!"

Henderson's face turned to stone. He had a strict policy: never do business with anyone who brings drama to the table.

Isabella tried to stop the men but was shoved aside.

I used the chaos to quietly move toward the door.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" one of the men yelled to the crowd. "Watch out for this Marco Ricci! He scams small investors! Now that he's made it, he turns his back on us!"

Marco was in a full-blown panic. He started scuffling with them.

In the chaos, on my cue, a perfectly-timed shove sent a waiter stumbling—right into Marco's prized liquor cabinet.

CRASH!

His treasured 1947 Cheval Blanc shattered, bleeding out across the marble floor like a slaughtered animal.

"NO!!!" Marco let out a gut-wrenching scream. He scrambled toward the wreckage. "My wine! My Cheval Blanc!"

He fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he tried to pick up the shards. Blood dripped from his cut fingers.

The guests were stunned.

"And this is our so-called successful entrepreneur?"

"He can't even control his own party. What else can't he control?"

"I heard there were problems with his company's financials..."

Henderson's face was grim. He turned to his assistant. "We're leaving. This man isn't worth our time."

"Mr. Henderson! Wait!" Marco tried to chase him, but the floor was covered in broken glass and wine. He almost fell.

"Marco, Goldman Sachs doesn't do business with liabilities," Henderson's voice was ice. "And right now, you are a massive one." He turned and walked out.

Several other key investors made their excuses and left.

While everyone was focused on the chaos, I slipped out of the apartment.

A black Lincoln was waiting at the curb. The driver was already holding the door open.

"Boss," he said with a grim nod. "It's done."

"Good," I said, getting in. "Let's go."

The car pulled away smoothly.

In the rearview mirror, I could still see the chaos unfolding in the apartment building.

Half an hour later, the party was over.

The living room was a war zone. Only Marco and his family were left to survey the wreckage.

Marco sat on the sofa, head in his hands, completely hopeless.

"It's over... Johnson didn't show, Henderson left... all the follow-up deals are dead..."

Isabella sat beside him, trying to comfort him. "Marco, maybe it's just temporary..."

"You don't get it!" Marco looked up sharply. "Without these investments, the company's expansion is dead! We're going to have a cash flow problem!"

Sofia and Amelia were helplessly trying to clean up the mess.

"It's all their fault!" Amelia said angrily. "How dare they come here and make a scene?! It's slander!"

"Mom, now's not the time," Marco said, rubbing his temples. "I need to figure out how to fix this."

Just then, Sofia realized something.

"Brother, where's Elena? Where did she go?"

Marco froze. He just realized he hadn't seen Elena since the chaos began.

"Elena?" He looked around. "Wasn't she here?"

"I haven't seen her," Isabella said with a frown. "Not since those men started shouting."

Marco shot up and ran for the stairs.

"Elena! Elena!" he yelled, charging up to the second floor.

He threw open the bedroom door. The room was empty.

The closet was open. More than half of her clothes were gone.

On the vanity, Elena's jewelry box was missing.

Marco's heart stopped.

He rushed to the window. The street below was empty.

"No... impossible..." Marco collapsed onto the bed. "She can't leave me. Not now..."

"Marco!" Isabella yelled from downstairs. "Elena's really gone! Her coat and purse are gone too!"