His Empire Crumbled When I Left

Three years ago, my husband’s brother took a bullet for him.

So Gwen brought his brother's widow, Eliza, into our home.

I was the Donna in name only. I had to step aside for Eliza in everything.

Once, Eliza faked slitting her wrists. She said I drove her to it. Gwen grabbed my throat. Murder flashed in his eyes.

"Get out. The Falcone family has no place for a venomous bitch like you."

He gave her the family's art foundation to "make it up to her." It was supposed to be mine.

This time, I said nothing.

He was signing a stack of business contracts. I just slipped the divorce papers in with them.

A few days later, he noticed I wasn't home. He searched all over Chicago. He couldn't find me.

That's when he saw the divorce decree.

He finally understood. I was gone. For good.

That day, the untouchable king of the Chicago Outfit… shattered.

I was deep in a complex data set when the professor called.

"Flora, congratulations!" His voice was electric. "The Paris project. Top research, your own lab, full funding—it's yours!"

My hand stilled. My fingers froze over the keyboard.

"This is a golden ticket, Flora," he continued, his voice softening. "But you know what this means. You'll have to leave Chicago."

Leave Chicago.

Leave the city I'd called home for three years.

Leave Gwen.

"Okay," I heard myself say, my voice distant. "I'll go say my goodbyes."

I went back to the estate. I wanted to spend one last night with Gwen.

I walked through the main doors. The staff was rushing around. They were setting up for a party.

Gwen stood in the center of the hall. He was snapping orders like a general.

"The champagne tower goes on the right, not the left!" His voice was cold, absolute. "No mistakes tonight."

He saw me. His eyes went colder.

"You're back."

"Gwen, I have great news—"

"Whatever it is, it can wait." He cut me off. His eyes cut right through me. "Tonight is important. Don't screw it up."

Screw it up? I stared at him, stunned.

Then it hit me. Of course. It’s our fifth anniversary.

This must be a surprise dinner. For us.

I thought about that. And I thought about leaving him soon. A knot tightened in my throat.

"I understand." I forced a smile. "I'll go get my gift."

This can be my farewell.

I hurried to the wine cellar. I retrieved the bottle I'd been saving. A 1990 Romanée-Conti.

A two-hundred-thousand-dollar bottle of wine. It was the most precious thing I could give.

As I took the bottle, a receipt fluttered to the floor. An order from the Chanel atelier.

A fifty-thousand-dollar evening gown. The one I saw at auction. The one I wanted.

My heart started racing again.

He'd planned all these surprises...

Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe he'd see me again. Love me again. Like before Eliza came.

I carried the bottle back to the