Chapter 6 - The Shattered King
Dominic’s heavy handgun slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the hardwood floor.
All the color drained from his handsome face. The untouchable, arrogant king of the Chicago underworld suddenly looked like a man who had just been stabbed directly in the heart.
He stared at the laptop, listening to his uncle's voice repeat the betrayal. The cinematic realism of his profound, suffocating realization paralyzed him. He had spent eight months sleeping in his study, avoiding my touch, and treating my kindness with absolute contempt, entirely because he believed I was the daughter of the man who got his father killed.
He had married an innocent woman to torture her, only to discover she was the only pure, honest thing in his entire toxic life.
Dominic’s knees physically buckled. He dropped to the floor, exactly three feet away from my red silk heels.
"Claire..." Dominic choked out, his voice cracking with raw, unadulterated agony. He looked up at me, tears of pure horror filling his pitch-black eyes. "My God... what have I done to you?"
He reached his trembling hands out, desperately trying to grab the fabric of my dress, begging for a fraction of the warmth I had offered him just hours ago at the dinner table.
I didn't move away. I simply looked down at him with absolute, freezing indifference.
"You didn't do anything to me, Dominic," I replied smoothly. "Because you were never really my husband. You were just my warden."
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Adrian Cross stood in the background, quietly watching the most feared man in the city weep at the feet of a woman he had severely underestimated.
👉 Dominic desperately begged for a second chance to fix his massive mistake, but I was about to show him the true meaning of permanent rejection.
