Worthless—that was what my family decided I was the moment a doctor declared I could never have children. Three days later, my father summoned me into his study with another “proposal,” and the look on my mother’s face told me they weren’t trying to save my future—they were preparing to trade it away.

The rage that settled inside me wasn't wild or chaotic. It was cold, deliberate, and absolute.

“They think they’ve won,” I said, standing up from the desk. My tears were gone, replaced by a ruthless clarity I had never felt before. “My mother thinks she outsmarted me. My father thinks he sacrificed a broken piece to protect his reputation.”

Dante stood across from me, his massive frame radiating an aura of terrifying authority. “What do you want to do, Elena? Give me the word, and Ferris won't survive the night. Raymond and your mother can be made to disappear before the weekend.”

“No,” I said sharply, looking Dante straight in the eyes. “Death is too clean. It’s too merciful. They took my work, my reputation, and my dignity. I want them ruined. I want to take away every dollar, every dock, every ship, and every piece of influence they hold until they are begging on the streets.”

A slow, dark smile spread across Dante’s face—a wolf recognizing its mate.

“That,” Dante said softly, “is why I fell in love with your mind the moment I saw your board strategies. Tell me what you need, Elena. Vance Enterprise is your army.”

Over the next seventy-two hours, Dante and I transformed his glass office into a war room.

We launched a multi-pronged corporate siege against Romano Continental. First, using Dante’s vast liquidity, we quietly began short-selling Romano Continental’s public shares on the European stock exchange.

Second, I utilized my insider knowledge of my family’s supply lines to orchestrate a legal blockade. I alerted the Environmental Protection Agency and Maritime Customs to three undocumented chemical shipments Uncle Raymond was secretly moving through the Newark port—a side hustle he had kept hidden from my father for years.

On Thursday morning, the federal agents raided the Newark terminal. Operations were ground to a complete halt. Romano Continental’s stock plummeted twenty-two percent in four hours.

That evening, as Dante and I were reviewing the market carnage over dinner in the dining hall, his head of security, Marcus, entered the room.

“Boss,” Marcus said respectfully. “There’s a visitor at the gate. He claims he has an urgent matter regarding Miss Romano.”

Dante wiped his mouth with a napkin, his eyes darkening. “Who?”

“Adrian Caruso,” Marcus replied.

I paused, setting my fork down. Adrian. My ex-fiancé who hadn't even had the courage to break our engagement face-to-face, sending a corporate lawyer with a velvet box instead.