He Dumped Me While Pregnant To Marry My Rich Cousin—At The Wedding, Chicago’s Most Dangerous Billionaire Claimed My Daughter And Made Me His Queen

""Giovanni, stop! Lily is watching!""

Jessica's desperate cry broke through the lethal haze in Giovanni's mind.

He glanced back over his shoulder. In the dim hallway of the apartment, five-year-old Lily stood frozen, her tiny fingers clutching the worn fabric of her purple bunny, her big blue eyes wide with terror. But she wasn't looking at Giovanni with fear; she was looking at Tyler, the man who had screamed and kicked down their door.

Giovanni let out a slow, controlled breath. With a flick of his wrist, he dropped Tyler onto the floor like a sack of garbage. Tyler collapsed onto the linoleum, clutching his fractured wrist and wheezing for oxygen, tears of pain streaming down his face.

Giovanni stepped over him, closing the cracked apartment door behind him to block the cold draft from the stairwell. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pristine linen handkerchief, and wiped his hands as if he had just touched something foul.

""Stand up, Mitchell,"" Giovanni commanded softly.

Tyler groaned, scrambling backward on his hands and knees until his back hit the radiator. ""You're crazy... you broke my wrist! My father will sue you for everything you own!""

Giovanni took out his personal phone, dialed a number on speakerphone, and held it out.

The call connected on the second ring. A tired, elderly voice answered. ""Mr. Fioraldi? It is past midnight. What has happened?""

Tyler froze. He recognized that voice instantly. It was Arthur Vance, the senior partner and managing director of Mitchell, Vance & Sterling—the firm owned by Tyler’s father.

""Arthur,"" Giovanni said calmly. ""I am currently standing in an apartment with Tyler. He just attempted to assault me with an iron weapon while heavily intoxicated.""

On the other end of the line, Arthur sucked in a sharp, horrified breath. ""Mr. Fioraldi... please tell me this is a misunderstanding. Tyler is an idiot, but—""

""He broke his wrist in the process,"" Giovanni continued coldly. ""Furthermore, he has threatened to use Cook County judges to harass Jessica Reed. Effective immediately, the Fioraldi syndicate is severing all financial ties with your firm. The fifteen commercial properties we lease through your management will be transferred to our private counsel by morning. And if Tyler Mitchell is not stripped of his junior partnership by dawn, I will release the offshore banking records of your entire board to the federal revenue service.""

""No! Please, Giovanni, wait!"" Arthur’s voice broke into sheer panic. ""Tyler, you worthless son of a bitch, are you listening to me?! You are fired! Do you hear me? Fired! Pack your belongings and get out of the firm! Mr. Fioraldi, I swear on my life we have no part in this! Please do not pull the commercial accounts!""

Giovanni ended the call without another word and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Tyler sat on the floor, his face drained of all color, his mouth hanging open in complete, catatonic shock. In less than sixty seconds, his career, his status, and his family’s multi-million dollar business relationships had evaporated into nothingness.

""Now,"" Giovanni said, stepping closer until his polished black shoe rested inches from Tyler’s nose. ""Here is what is going to happen. You will stand up. You will walk down those stairs. You will take your pregnant wife and leave Chicago before the week ends. If I ever see your face in this city again, or if Jessica receives so much as an anonymous letter from a lawyer, I will ensure that you spend the next twenty years cleaning prison laundry. Do you understand me?""

Tyler nodded frantically, sobbing like a broken child. ""I understand... I swear, I understand!""

""Get out.""

Tyler scrambled to his feet, clutching his broken wrist against his chest, and practically threw himself through the apartment door, tumbling down the stairs in a frantic rush of terror. The heavy front door downstairs slammed shut, followed by the screech of tires speeding away into the rainy night.

Silence descended upon the apartment once more.

Camila was still frozen against the kitchen counter, her eyes wide as dinner plates. Jessica let out a long, ragged sob and sank to her knees on the floor, burying her face in her hands. The nightmare was finally over. The threat that had hung over her head for six long years had been crushed in a matter of minutes.