Too Late: The Don's Queen Is Not Me

Julian POV

Serena’s features went rigid, the condescending curve of her lips flattening into a stark, bloodless line.

Her mouth fell open, but before any sound could escape, her telephone began to shrill in the close confines of the vehicle.

She glanced at the illuminated screen.

It was Leo.

She accepted the summons without a moment's hesitation.

Panic sharpened the rookie's voice as it bled from the speaker.

He had mishandled a critical shipment at her corporate front.

Serena’s tone became a soft murmur, promising him she would be there directly to mend his blunder.

She ended the call and looked back at me, her brief astonishment hardening into a cold resolve.

A short, brittle laugh escaped her.

She called my bluff pathetic, her voice thin and sharp.

She declared her legitimate business took precedence, and that my marital theatrics would have to wait.

With a thrust of her shoulder, she forced the heavy door open and stepped out of the vehicle.

She walked away without a backward glance.

I sat in the profound, deadening silence of the armored car.

I thought of the innumerable nights I had kept vigil in the dark, awaiting her arrival.

I thought of the ease with which she had just abandoned the Underboss of the city to salvage the reputation of a feckless boy.

After a time, Enzo approached the SUV and opened the front passenger door.

I informed my Capo that his sister had departed on an urgent matter.

Enzo made a low sound of contempt in his throat and shook his head.

He observed that she was perpetually rushing off to play the savior for that strutting boy.

He pulled out his phone and his thumb moved across the screen for several tense seconds.

He handed the device to me.

I looked at the bright screen, and a muscle began to work in my jaw.

It was Leo's public profile.

There were dozens of photographs: Serena and Leo, their faces bright under the garish electric signs of Las Vegas.

The irony was a physical sickness in my gut; I had spent the entirety of the previous week in that same city, entirely alone, securing new territory with bloodshed.

Then, my eye caught the timestamp, and I registered the date on the images.

It was the day of our fifth anniversary.

The same day I had waited in my penthouse, a velvet box in my pocket feeling as heavy as a stone.

The day she had telephoned to say she was sick in bed with a fever.

Instead, she had been in Vegas, making a public spectacle of her bond with another man.

In that instant, the last vestige of mercy in me withered and turned to ash.

I handed the telephone back to Enzo, my face a mask of iron.

I told him to get out of the car.

The engine’s roar exploded in the underground garage as I took the driver’s seat, a sound that matched the tempest in my chest.

The black SUV tore through the city, its armored chassis a battering ram against the night as I made for Serena's corporate headquarters.

I brought the vehicle to a jarring halt on the curb and strode into the sleek glass building.

Civilian employees shrank away from me in the lobby, their bodies recoiling from the cold aura of violence that clung to my suit.

I walked directly to the frosted glass door of Serena's private office.

As my hand reached for the handle, I stopped.

I could hear Leo’s eager voice from the other side.

He was inviting her on a romantic getaway in May.

Serena’s soft laugh followed—a genuine, unguarded sound she had not offered me in years.

She told him she had something of great importance to tell him on that trip.

I did not wait to hear more; I lifted my boot and drove it into the door, just beside the handle.

The wood around the lock splintered, and the heavy glass panel crashed inward, landing with a muffled thud on the thick carpet.

I stepped into the room.

My presence seemed to consume the very air.

Serena sprang to her feet, a choked gasp of terror escaping her lips.

Leo stumbled backward, the blood draining from his face until it was the color of tallow.

I regarded them both with a profound, chilling indifference.

I announced that my wedding would also be held in May, my voice a quiet, deadly thing in the sudden stillness.

The look on her face was only the first installment of a debt she never realized she owed.