Too Late For Regret, Mr. Underboss

My hand stopped midway through adjusting my cufflink.

I stood perfectly still in the center of the silent room.

The words echoed in my ears, but my brain refused to assemble them into a coherent thought.

“Say that again,” I ordered, my voice dropping to a dangerous low.

My advisor’s voice crackled. “The property has been transferred to a new owner. The funds were moved through three untraceable offshore accounts.”

“And Siena’s current GPS location on our map is a total blank.”

It didn't feel like a bullet hit; it felt like a sudden, massive hollow opening in my ribcage.

That penthouse was my territory.

I had spent months meticulously planning every security upgrade.

I had personally reinforced the steel walls to ensure she was safe.

It was the impenetrable fortress for our future family.

She sold it to a stranger.

A violent spasm gripped my throat.

I tried to form a new command, but no sound came out of my suddenly dry mouth.

“Boss?” the urgent inquiry came through the phone’s speaker. “Do you want me to track the broker?”

The initial shock was paralyzing, which then evolved into a sharp, suffocating panic.

“Find the buyer!” I roared into the phone.

“Tear this city apart if you have to.”

I ripped the cord and stumbled toward the heavy oak door.

A terrifying thought pierced through my usual thick armor of arrogance.

She wasn't just giving up our territory.

She was throwing me away.

My chest felt like it was filling with wet sand, each breath heavier than the last.

I opened my phone and found her contact.

My thumb jammed down on the call button with a force that made my hand ache.

The line clicked.

Then, a dead, mechanical voice filled my ear.

I hung up and redialed.

The same dead voice greeted me.

A third time I called, my fingers pressing so hard the glass threatened to crack.

Nothing but suffocating silence.

The unnatural stillness following her departure shook the foundations of my world.

She was always there waiting for me.

She always picked up on the first ring.

For eight long years, she had never turned her phone off.

I looked down at the blank screen in my hand.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

I had to get to that hotel. Now.