Chapter 2 - THE EMPTY CHAIRWe left the ballroom through the private side exit, the sound of Ryan’s frantic, stuttering voice chasing us down the corridor before being cut off by heavy oak doors.
In the quiet of the private lounge, my father poured himself a glass of scotch, while Luca leaned against the mahogany mantelpiece, watching me with a mixture of respect and lingering amusement.
"You handled that with absolute surgical precision, Isabella," Luca said, swirling his drink. "I almost felt sorry for him. Almost."
"Don't," I replied, sinking into a velvet armchair and letting out a breath I felt like I'd been holding for three agonizing years. "Ryan spent thirty-six months systematically dismantling my confidence, my friendships, and my sense of reality. He wanted a ghost in the house so he could live a double life outside of it. The least I could do was give him a front-row seat to his own eviction."
My father sat down opposite me, his dark eyes softening with a rare display of paternal warmth. "Your mother would have been proud, Bella. She always knew you had the Moretti fire in you, even when you tried to smother it to play the dutiful suburban wife for that ungrateful fraud."
"The real work starts tomorrow," I said, leaning forward. "The board of directors will wake up to frozen accounts and an emergency audit. Ryan will try to liquidate whatever personal assets he has left to pay off his private creditors."
"He won't find any," Luca smiled, a sharp, predatory expression. "Every single bank account, luxury vehicle, and property deed tied to his name was cross-collateralized under the Moretti-DeSantis joint venture three weeks ago. When he logs into his primary portal tomorrow morning, he won't just see zeros—he'll see a negative balance."
My phone buzzed on the glass table between us.
An incoming call from an unknown number. Then another. Then a continuous, frantic vibration as text messages flooded the screen.
Ryan: Isabella, please. Pick up. We need to talk. Ryan: Where are you? This is insane. Call me! Ryan: Vanessa is gone. She left with the car keys. Bella, please...
May you like
I looked at the screen, watched the little digital notifications stack up like falling dominoes, and calmly pressed the power button, sending the phone straight to voicemail.
"Let him sweat," I said, standing up. "Let him spend his first night as a pauper realizing just how thoroughly he built his own prison."
Related Stories
