Out of His Reach

The entire banquet hall fell silent. The mockery and laughter from moments ago stopped abruptly.

I looked at Nico’s stunned face and Sophia’s eyes filled with jealousy, and spoke calmly.

“Nico, taking care of a child is something you should handle yourself. My time is billed by the second.”

Surrounded by security and the butlers, I walked straight toward the private elevator to the top floor without another look at them.

Back in the top-floor suite, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows as the underboss sent an encrypted message.

[Ms. Lena, the black card has been handled as instructed. The new assessment report for the Luciano family is complete. Risk level adjustment to C is recommended, with detailed notes attached.]

The next day, when I went downstairs, people pointed and looked at me strangely.

Sophia, carrying a luxury handbag, stopped in front of me arrogantly.

“Isn’t this the aloof Ms. Sorrentino? Wasn’t it enough to be someone’s kept woman? You had to come out and embarrass yourself?”

At first, I didn’t understand what she was talking about. Then, the underboss quietly sent me a link.

The title read: [Former New Haven mafia goddess reduced to a plaything who slept her way up.]

The post was full of insults, accusing me of climbing the ranks by sleeping with powerful men. It claimed the top-floor suite in the luxury hotel was a gilded cage built by some tycoon to keep me hidden.

Rumors spread quickly, severely damaging my professional reputation and family business.

Two family partnerships that had already been agreed on were both put on indefinite hold.

A week later, I was invited to speak at the North Alumcian Mafia Families Alliance Annual Young Leaders Summit on legal industry transformation and anti-money laundering risk control.

I was on stage analyzing global capital trends when the main screen suddenly went black for three seconds, then filled with a flood of my private photos.

Some were taken when Nico and I were being intimate. Others were edited images from my meetings with clients.

The room erupted. Journalists and young members from various families excitedly took photos of the screen.

“So this is a so-called family heiress? She’s worse than a streetwalker.”

“How does she still have the nerve to stand on that stage? Maybe everything she knows was taught in bed.”

“Didn’t expect her to be this wild. Maybe I should pay for a night and see what the ‘goddess’ is like.”

I stood on the stage, as if stripped bare, pushed to the height of humiliation, just like five years ago at my wedding.

Nico, sitting in the front row, stood up instinctively.

At that moment, the doors of the hall were kicked open. Seven or eight well-dressed women rushed in and started throwing things at me.

“Lena! You shameless mistress! Seducing my husband wasn’t enough, and now you dare show your face here?!”

“You sl*t! Wasn’t it enough in Nassau? You had to come back to New Haven to steal other people’s husbands, too?”

“Look at her! What financial expert? She’s an expert in bed! Who knows how many powerful men she slept with to get where she is?!”

The women rushed onto the stage like mad, grabbing my hair and tearing at my clothes.

My dress was ripped, my hair was yanked, and my face burned with pain.

Flashes from cameras filled the room. No one stepped in, and everyone watched as if it were a show.

Nico stepped back, watching coldly as I was surrounded.

Only after hotel security barely regained control did he slowly stand, putting on a look of grief.

“Lena, I truly misjudged you! Back then, you said you were going to Nassau to pursue your career. I had no choice but to let you go. I didn’t expect you to betray me long ago!”

Accusing others of what he himself had done.

He was the one who betrayed me for Sophia, destroyed my family. Now he was throwing dirt on me.

“Nico, you disgust me!”

Although I immediately called the police and presented evidence to prove my innocence, the scandal exploded that night.

My phone was flooded with abusive messages. Outside the hotel, white funeral wreaths were piled up.

Five years later, I had once again become a target of public hatred.

At two in the morning, Nico sent an encrypted message.

[I told you long ago you can’t make it without me. It’s not too late to admit your mistake. Lena, I don’t mind that you’ve been with other men. As long as you come obediently to the Luciano estate and be a nanny, I’ll help you settle everything.]

At that moment, my husband, Vincent, called from overseas.

“Darling, are you alright? I can use all my resources to calm the situation in New Haven down in a second.”

I refused immediately. “No need. I’ve waited for this day for five years. I’m going to end this myself.”