Chapter 2 - THE REUNION IN THE RITUAL ROOMThe Grand Meridian Opera House was a fortress disguised as a cultural landmark. Armed men in bespoke Armani tuxedos stood sentinel at every gilded archway, their hands resting casually inside their jackets, right where their shoulder holsters sat.
When I stepped out of the private town car, the crisp Chicago wind whipped my dark hair across my face. I wore a backless, emerald-green silk gown that clung to my silhouette, paired with dark sunglasses that hid the dark circles beneath my eyes. I looked expensive, untouchable, and dangerously calm.
The bouncer at the VIP entrance scoffed, checking his digital guest list tablet. "Name?"
"Mia Moretti," I said smoothly, letting the surname roll off my tongue as if I still owned it.
The man froze, his eyes snapping up to my face. Recognition flickered in his pupils, quickly replaced by sheer panic. Word of Adrian’s vindictive divorce had spread through the syndicate like wildfire, but rumor had it that I was broken, penniless, and hiding in a remote town.
"Mrs... I mean, Miss Vance," he corrected himself frantically, tapping his earpiece. "Go right through. Mr. Moretti is expecting guests in the grand foyer."
The heavy oak doors swung open, welcoming me into a world of obscene wealth and suppressed violence. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, deceptive glow over men in expensive suits and women dripping in diamonds.
And then, I saw him.
Adrian Moretti stood near the central staircase, looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored white tuxedo jacket. His dark eyes scanned the room with predatory confidence. Beside him, draped in white lace and holding a crystal flute of sparkling cider, stood Valentina. Her stomach was visibly rounded beneath the designer fabric—the living proof of the "heir" Adrian had claimed I was incapable of providing.
As I glided down the sweeping marble steps, the ambient chatter in the grand room began to die down. One by one, heads turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd like static electricity.
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Isn't that his ex-wife? What is she doing here? Has she lost her mind?
Adrian’s gaze snapped toward the staircase. The moment he recognized me, the arrogant smirk froze on his lips, turning into a mask of pure, unadulterated shock.
