Chapter 9 - The Empty Throne
The hospital room seemed to shrink around Roman, the oxygen suddenly thin and heavy. For the first time in his life, the invincible Chicago kingpin felt the concrete floor giving way beneath his polished shoes.
He wasn't looking at a stray wife and an errant lawyer. He was looking at a coup executed with surgical, flawless perfection.
“Why?” Roman whispered, the raw fury in his voice cracking into something resembling genuine confusion. “Why go through all of this? Why not just divorce me quietly like everyone else?”
Celeste didn't blink. “Because a quiet divorce lets a monster keep his mask. I wanted the world to see what was underneath yours. And more importantly, I wanted you to feel, if only for a single second, what it’s like to have everything you love stripped away while you stand there completely helpless.”
Roman took a slow step backward, his hand sliding off the lapel of his suit jacket. His phone buzzed in his pocket—once, twice, then a continuous, unbroken vibration that signaled an avalanche of incoming corporate alerts.
May you like
He didn't pull it out. He knew what the screen would say.
“You’re a ruined man, Roman,” Julian said quietly, watching him with professional detachment. “You can fight us in court, or you can take the clothes on your back and the car parked outside and disappear before the federal marshals arrive to lock down your penthouse.”
