Chapter 9 - The Ex-Wife’s Last Gambit
-9-
Morning sunlight pierced through the high arched windows of the master east suite, casting a bright, golden glow across the silk sheets. I woke up wrapped in the lingering scent of cedarwood and scotch, realizing with a start that I had fallen asleep curled on the sofa by the fireplace with Nico’s heavy cashmere coat draped over my shoulders.
The suite was empty, but a low murmur of voices drifted up from the hallway just outside my door.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and listened closely.
“...you cannot lock me out of my own corporate accounts, Nico! This is a coup! The board is completely compromised!” Valentina Rossi’s shrill, frantic voice echoed through the heavy oak panels of the door.
I slipped off the sofa, pulled my robe tighter around myself, and quietly crept toward the door, pressing my ear against the wood.
“Your corporate accounts were funded by predatory loans and shell companies you set up behind my back five years ago, Val,” Nico’s voice replied, cold and utterly immovable. “I didn't lock you out. I simply handed the forensic auditors the exact keys to your financial ruin.”
“You’re doing this for that—that little nobody!” Valentina shrieked, her voice cracking with helpless rage. “You’re destroying a thirty-year family dynasty over a twenty-four-year-old girl you picked up off the street! Have you lost your mind? She doesn't love you, Nico! She’s using you to get back at Liam!”
“Luna isn't using anyone,” Nico answered, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet warning. “And if you ever step foot in this East Wing again, Valentina, I won't just freeze your assets—I’ll have you evicted from the entire state of New York before lunch.”
A heavy, suffocating silence followed. Then, the sound of furious, stomping heels retreating down the carpeted hallway, followed by the distant slam of a heavy door.
I pulled my door open just an inch. Nico was standing in the corridor alone, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, his posture rigid as he stared down at a tablet in his hand. He looked up almost instantly, as if he had sensed my presence, his dark eyes softening the moment they met mine.
“Did you sleep well?” Nico asked, his voice returning to its normal, smooth register as he walked over toward my door.
“Well enough to hear your ex-wife throwing a tantrum in the hallway,” I replied with a faint, tired smile, leaning against the doorframe. “Is she really gone?”
“For now,” Nico said, stepping into the suite and handing me the tablet. “Though desperate people do desperate things. Which is why I’m accelerating our timeline.”
I looked down at the tablet screen. It displayed a formal press release drafted by Rossi Global’s public relations firm, scheduled for release at 12:00 PM sharp.
“Rossi Global Holdings announces a major corporate restructuring. Mr. Nico Rossi resumes active chairmanship of the board, effective immediately. Furthermore, Rossi Global announces its official philanthropic partnership with the Luna Vance Foundation for Women’s Healthcare and Research, backed by a fifty-million-dollar endowment.”
My breath caught in my throat. I looked up from the screen, my eyes wide with shock. “A foundation? In my name? Fifty million dollars?”
“Your mother’s medical care, and thousands of women like her who get crushed by predatory hospital debt,” Nico said quietly, taking the tablet from my hands and setting it aside. “You wanted a blank page, Luna. Let’s start by writing something that actually matters.”
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“Nico... I don't know what to say,” I whispered, tears pricking the corners of my eyes—not tears of sadness or heartbreak this time, but tears of a profound, overwhelming release.
“Don't say anything,” Nico murmured, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me against his chest. “Just get dressed. We have a press conference to attend at noon, and I want the entire city of New York to see exactly who is standing by my side when we take back the throne.”
