When the Roses Died, The Mafia Heiress Demands A Divorce

Kaye’s POV

"Why are you so desperate to leave?" Cyrus’s voice was low and edged with menace as he blocked my way to the door when I stepped away.

“Why?” I shot back, disbelief and anger mixing in my chest. “After everything, you think I’d stay? You humiliated me, lied to me—”

He rolled his eyes, cutting me off with a bitter laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic, Kaye. You were sheltered by your father’s money, clueless about the real world. I showed you freedom.”

“Freedom?” I felt a surge of cold anger. “You mean trapping me in this mansion? You won’t even let me walk out the door without one of your men following me!”

“Oh, please.” He leaned closer, his smile dark and twisted. “You think your father’s protection was different? At least with me, you’re useful. With him, you were just a burden.”

The words hit harder than a slap, but I held my ground, refusing to show the hurt. “I’d rather be a ‘burden’ than someone you can toss aside like one of your goons.”

That smile vanished, replaced by something far darker. “Maybe I need to remind you who’s in charge here.” He stepped forward, raising his hand, and for a sickening second, I thought he was going to hit me.

Instinctively, I backed up, feeling my pulse race, fear mixing with fury. “Go ahead, Cyrus. Show me who you really are.”

For a moment, his hand hovered in the air, but then he smirked, eyes glinting with a twisted satisfaction. Instead of hitting me, he lowered his hand, gesturing to his men standing guard by the door.

“Lock her in the guest room,” he ordered coldly. “And don’t let her out until I say so.”

I struggled as his goons grabbed me, yanking my arms behind my back. “Let go of me!” I screamed, thrashing, but their grip was hard as they dragged me down the hall. Cyrus’s laughter echoed behind me, each step pushing me deeper into despair.

They shoved me into the guest room, the door slamming shut with a heavy click. I threw myself at the handle, twisting it uselessly. Locked. Trapped.

I sank to the floor, breathing hard, staring at the door that felt more like a prison cell than anything.

Days passed in silence, broken only by the faint laughter echoing down the hall—Cyrus and Nicolette, enjoying themselves as if I didn’t exist.

Just when I was about to give up hope, there was a loud crash.

The walls shook, followed by muffled voices shouting and gunfire erupting in the mansion.

“What the?!”

Panic swelled in my chest as I pressed my ear to the door, trying to make sense of the chaos outside. Another gunshot, closer this time, and then the door burst open.

“Kaye,” a familiar voice called out, low and urgent.

I blinked, seeing Gio—my father’s right-hand man—standing in the doorway, pistol drawn. Relief washed over me, but it was cut short by his grim expression.

“We don’t have much time. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out into the hallway.

“How did you find me?” I whispered, trying to keep up as he led me through the dimly lit corridors.

“Your father always knew Cyrus would try to control you. I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” Gio muttered, his gaze darting around the corners. “And when Cyrus stopped letting you out, I knew something was wrong.”

We moved quickly, slipping past fallen guards and ducking under cover whenever the sound of footsteps neared. Cyrus’s men were scrambling, but Gio moved with purpose, guiding me through the chaos.

Finally, we made it to the exit, where a sleek, black car was waiting. Gio opened the door, ushering me inside. As soon as he joined me, we sped off, the city lights flashing by in a blur.

Only when we were far from Cyrus’s mansion did I feel like I could breathe again. “Thank you, Gio,” I whispered, still shaken. “If you hadn’t come…”

He glanced at me, his jaw tight. “Your father would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

The mention of my father brought a lump to my throat. I hadn’t seen him since the day he’d kicked me out, and a rush of emotions hit me—anger, hurt, and something close to guilt. Despite everything, he’d still cared enough to send Gio after me.

We arrived at the old De Luca mansion, the place I’d once called home. I stepped out, memories washing over me, each one more painful than the last. The house was quiet, darker than I remembered, the garden overgrown and the lights dimmer. It was as if life had drained from the place.

Inside, familiar faces greeted me—Father’s men, the ones I’d grown up seeing but never really knowing. They all nodded, their expressions somber.

“Where is he?” I asked, turning to Gio, my voice barely steady.

He looked down, his face hardening. “Kaye… he’s gone.”

I stared at him, numb, the words not sinking in. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

Gio’s gaze softened, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. “Your father passed away. Not long after you left.”

The room tilted, my vision blurring. Gone? The man who’d protected me, sheltered me, who’d shaped my entire world, was… gone? I stumbled back, catching myself on the edge of a table, the weight of it crashing down on me all at once.

“Kaye?” Gio’s voice was soft, a hand resting on my shoulder. “I know this is hard, but there’s something you need to know. Your father left instructions. For you.”

I forced myself to look up, meeting his gaze, my voice raw. “What instructions?”

Gio’s expression hardened, a spark of determination in his eyes. “He wanted you to take over, Kaye. To lead the De Luca family. He trusted you.”

I took a shaky breath, the weight of his words sinking in. My father had believed in me, even when I hadn’t believed in myself. The protected girl I’d once been was gone; all that was left now was a choice.

“What do you say, Kaye?” Gio asked, his voice filled with quiet respect. “Will you honor his legacy?”

I straightened, feeling a surge of strength I hadn’t felt before. I’d lost everything, but I wouldn’t let my father’s legacy fade.

“Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll take his place.”