Jilted Wife? I Am The Underworld Boss

Lucia POV

The sun was just rising when my driver pulled up to the heavy iron gates of the Bianco estate.

I pushed the gates open, and my breath caught in my throat.

The blood-red rose garden was gone.

My mother had planted those roses. They were a tribute planted in her memory, each thorn a testament to our bloodline.

Now, the earth lay churned and violated, the soil ripped open to the sky. A cheap, brightly colored plastic children's playground sat over the dirt where my mother's legacy used to bloom.

An older woman walked out of the front door carrying a bag of groceries. She halted as if she had run into a wall of glass when she saw me standing in the courtyard.

She looked me up and down with immediate suspicion.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

Before I could answer, a younger woman's voice drifted from inside my house.

"Mom, can you grab the baby formula? Simon barely slept after taking care of the baby all night."

A tremor began in my gut, a slow, sickening churn that was not of the body but of the soul.

My territory had been sold. My husband was in my house, and he had bred a child with another woman.

I placed my hand on the wrought iron gate to steady myself.

The older woman's face darkened. She marched forward and thrust a palm toward my shoulder.

"I told you to get out. This is my daughter's house."

I easily sidestepped her hand. My training kicked in, suppressing the rising fury of my bloodline.

"This is my house," I said. I swallowed the taste of rust that had risen in my throat, forcing the words out from between my clenched jawbones.

The woman let out a loud, mocking laugh.

"You have some nerve. My daughter bought this property in full."

The front door opened wider, and a woman stepped out onto the porch.

I recognized her instantly. Rachel Vance. She was a project manager I had mercifully handed a lucrative contract to a year ago, only because Simon had vouched for her.

Rachel froze when she saw me.

In her hand, she was holding my late father's enamel mug, its rim dented and stained with the dark residue of his first gunfight. He had drunk from it after surviving his first gang war.

I locked eyes on the mug.

"Put it down," I commanded.

Rachel hesitated for a split second. Then a wicked smirk spread across her face. She raised the mug to her lips and deliberately took a slow sip, maintaining eye contact with me.

"Where is Simon?" I asked.

Rachel leaned against the doorframe. "Why are you looking for my husband?"

The older woman, Mrs. Vance, straightened her posture and pointed a finger at me.

"Simon is my son-in-law. He and Rachel just had a beautiful baby together. Now get off our property before I call the police."

Doors across the street began to open. Civilian neighbors stepped out onto their porches, whispering and pointing.

I heard one of them mutter that I must be the bitter ex-wife causing a scene yet again.

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest. "I know who you are. You are Simon's ex-wife. The one who abandons her home all year to play businesswoman."

"I am not divorced," I said flatly.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Did you hit your head and forget the divorce agreement you signed?"

Mrs. Vance chimed in, her voice loud enough for the entire street to hear.

"Look at you. You lack any femininity. Simon divorcing you was an escape from misery. No real man wants a cold machine in his bed."

Several neighbors pulled out their phones, pointing their cameras at me to record the drama.

I ignored the civilian noise. I did not care about their cameras or their opinions.

I strode directly toward the front steps.

Rachel reached out to block my path, her hand pressing against my chest.

I moved faster than she could process. My fingers enclosed her wrist, and I applied a precise, educated pressure to the radial nerve, enough to make her breath catch in a pained hiss.

"Tell Simon to come out here right now." My voice was ice, but beneath it, a slow, volcanic heat was already building—the kind that, once released, would leave nothing but ash in its wake.