He Kicked His Poor Abandoned Ex At The Mall — Not Knowing She’s Now Married To A Mafia Boss
The five thousand dollar Ferragamo oxford hit Lily's ribs before she even saw it coming. She crashed into the Tiffany display case, crystal ornaments shattering around her as she hit the marble floor, her coat tearing, her elbow splitting open against the glass edge. For a moment, the entire Saks Fifth Avenue went silent. Christmas carols still played softly overhead, but no one moved. No one breathed. Lily looked up from the floor, blood trickling down her pale arm, at the man standing over her with contempt twisting his handsome features. Derek Sullivan, her ex fiancé, the man who had stolen everything from her four years ago. He snarled at her to stay down where she belonged, calling her a worthless parasite. He had no idea who she was anymore. No idea that the broken girl he remembered, the one who had begged him not to leave, who had bled on a subway bathroom floor losing their baby alone, who had tried to walk into highway traffic because she wanted to die, who had survived winter on the streets of New York with only five dollars and a torn jacket, was gone. No idea that she had risen from those ashes. No idea about the ten carat diamond ring hidden under her leather glove, the penthouse on top of the tallest building in Manhattan she had left that morning, or the black American Express card in her Hermès purse that had no spending limit. And Derek definitely had no idea about the man whose name was now legally attached to hers, the man whose security team was currently pinning him against the jewelry counter, the man whose phone was buzzing in her purse right now. Lorenzo Marchetti, her husband, the most dangerous mafia boss in New York, head of the Marchetti crime family that controlled everything from Wall Street to the dark corners of Brooklyn. As Lily's trembling fingers accepted the call and Lorenzo's voice, cold as the winter wind outside, asked who had touched her, she watched realization start to creep across Derek's face. The color drained from his cheeks. His blue eyes went wide. He had just kicked the wrong woman. And in approximately ten minutes, when Lorenzo's motorcade of black SUVs screeched into this building's private garage, when thirty armed men in designer suits flooded this floor, when the most feared name in the New York underworld stood face to face with the man who had once beaten his wife until she miscarried, Derek Sullivan was going to learn a lesson about consequences that would destroy his entire world, his career, his reputation, his freedom, and very nearly his life. But he still did not know it yet. Right now, in this moment, with his expensive shoe still hovering over her like she was trash beneath his feet, he still thought she was nothing. He still thought she was the same desperate girl he had thrown away like garbage four winters ago. That was about to change.
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