Rejected Bride, Now His Prey

Isabella POV

The air in Vesuvio seemed to vanish, sucked into the vacuum of Damien Maddox's presence. He didn't look at me. His gaze was a physical weight, a cold, invisible hand pressing down on Jovani Langley's throat.

Jovani, fueled by wine and a fatal lack of survival instinct, didn't shrink back. He stood up, smoothing his lapels with a smirk that made my stomach turn.

"Mr. Maddox," Jovani drawled, his voice carrying a mocking lilt. "Small world. Checking up on your employees' private lives? That seems a bit... obsessive, don't you think?"

I wanted to scream at Jovani to shut up. He was poking a sleeping dragon, mistaking its stillness for weakness.

Damien's expression didn't change. It was a mask of terrifying indifference, carved from marble. "Langley," he said, the name sounding like a curse on his tongue. "I am merely ensuring the security of my investments. Miss Preston is a vital asset to Prosperity Group. I do not appreciate seeing my assets devalued by associating with... liabilities."

The insult was precise, clinical, and devastating. Jovani's smirk faltered. "Now wait a minute—"

Damien took a single step forward. The violence radiating off him was so potent it felt like heat against my skin. He leaned down, invading Jovani's personal space, and whispered something near his ear.

I couldn't hear the words, but I saw the effect.

Jovani's face drained of color, turning a sickly shade of gray. His eyes widened, the arrogance extinguishing instantly, replaced by raw, primal fear. He slumped back into the booth as if his strings had been cut, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

Damien straightened, his eyes finally flicking to me. There was no warmth, no recognition of my humanity. I was just a file folder he had retrieved from the trash.

"We're leaving," he ordered.

It wasn't an invitation. He turned on his heel, not waiting to see if I followed. He knew I would. I cast one last look at Jovani, who was trembling, staring at his wine glass as if it contained poison.

I hurried after Damien, my heels clicking frantically on the floor, humiliation burning my cheeks. I hated Jovani for his stupidity. I hated Damien for his tyranny. But most of all, I hated Maverick. My husband. The coward who left me to be rescued—and owned—by a monster like Damien Maddox.

Damien POV

The study was dark, smelling of aged leather and the lingering ghost of cigar smoke. It was my sanctuary, the only place in the estate where the silence was absolute.

Or it should have been.

"You look like a man who just lost a war, not one who won a skirmish."

I stopped in the doorway. My grandmother, Lucia Maddox, sat in my high-backed leather chair. At seventy, she was still the iron spine of this family. Her silver hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her dark eyes, sharp as obsidian, tracked my movement. She was the only person alive who dared to sit in the Don's seat.

"Get out, Nonna," I growled, walking to the liquor cabinet. I poured a glass of scotch, skipping the ice. The burn in my throat matched the fire in my chest.

"I heard about the restaurant," she said calmly. "Clifford Preston called. He was... concerned."

"He should be," I snapped, slamming the glass down. "His granddaughter is a whore. I saw her, Nonna. I saw her letting that parasite Langley paw at her. She was laughing."

The image of Jovani's hands on her—on my wife—flashed in my mind, turning my vision red. I had sent Cortez to handle Langley. By morning, the man would wish he had never been born. But Isabella...

"I'm ending it," I said, my voice low and final. "I won't have a Rat in my bed. I won't have my father's history repeating itself in my house."

Lucia stood up. She was small, but her presence filled the room. She walked over to me, her cane tapping rhythmically on the hardwood.

"Your father was a weak man ruled by his lust," she said, her voice cutting through my rage. "You are not him. But you are blind, Damien. Blinded by hate."

"I saw what I saw!"

"You saw a back," she corrected sharply. "You saw a woman with dark hair. Did you see her face when he kissed her? Did you ask her?"

I clenched my jaw. "I didn't need to."

"Isabella Preston has been vetted by me personally," Lucia said, her tone brooking no argument. "She is resilient. She is loyal to a fault to a family that treats her like cattle. You are judging her for crimes she hasn't committed because you are terrified of being betrayed."

She poked a bony finger against my chest, right over my heart. "Be careful, Nipote. You are so busy building walls to keep the pain out, you might just lock yourself in with the monsters."

She turned and walked out, leaving the heavy door ajar.

I stood alone in the dark, the silence pressing against my ears. Lucia's defense of the girl gnawed at my certainty, but it didn't extinguish the anger. I couldn't trust Isabella. I couldn't trust anyone.

I walked to my desk and pulled a fresh legal pad from the drawer. I didn't need a gun to solve this problem. I needed a lawyer.

I picked up my fountain pen and wrote a single header at the top of the page, the ink black and permanent.

Petition for Annulment.