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Her Ex Brought His Mistress to Humiliate Her, but the Mafia Boss Kissed Her Before Everyone and Took Everything He Had / Chapter 4 / 6

Chapter 4 - Shadows along the RiverCornered animals are always the most dangerous.

Three days after the boardroom subpoena was served, Hayes Capital was in absolute freefall. Federal agents had raided Connor’s offices, freezing his assets, while the media mercilessly documented the collapse of his financial firm.

It was 8:30 PM on a foggy Tuesday evening. Harper was working late in her office, putting the final touches on the civil recovery lawsuit that would officially strip Connor of his remaining personal wealth.

Her office phone rang.

"Harper," Roman’s urgent voice came through the speaker. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the office, just finishing up the briefing files—"

"Get away from the windows right now," Roman commanded, the sound of a roaring car engine echoing in the background of his call. "My security team just intercepted a wire transfer from Connor’s personal account to a known enforcer on the South Side. He’s lost his mind, Harper. He knows he's going to prison, and he blames you."

Before Harper could react, the heavy glass door of her office suite shattered into a million exploding pieces.

Harper screamed, dropping the phone and ducking behind her heavy mahogany desk as a tall, broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket smashed through the entrance, holding an iron crowbar. Behind him stepped Connor Hayes.

Connor looked completely unhinged. His suit was wrinkled, his hair matted with sweat, his eyes bloodshot and wild with frantic rage.

"Harper!" Connor roared, stepping over the shattered glass. "You ruined me! You took my company, my money, my reputation! Everything!"

"Connor, stop!" Harper called out from behind the desk, her hand frantically reaching into her handbag for her pepper spray. "The police are already on their way!"

"I don't care about the police!" Connor screamed, pulling a heavy silver revolver from his coat pocket. "I gave you four years of my life! I offered you a civilized way out, and you brought that gangster into my world!"

He kicked the edge of the mahogany desk, forcing Harper to stand up, her back pressed against the high glass window overlooking the foggy Chicago skyline forty-two floors below.

"Put the gun down, Connor," Harper said, forcing her voice into the calm, measured tone she used in court, though her heart was hammering violently. "If you pull that trigger, you will spend the rest of your life on death row. It's over."

"It's only over when I say it's over!" Connor shouted, raising the revolver, his finger tightening around the trigger.

Suddenly, the heavy mahogany double doors of the office floor blew inward with the force of a battering ram.

Roman Falco stepped through the dust and debris.

He didn't look like a logistics magnate. He looked like the absolute ruler of the Chicago underworld. His dark eyes were cold, terrifying, and completely devoid of mercy. Behind him stood four massive security operatives, but Roman moved ahead of them, stepping directly into the line of fire.

"Put the weapon down, Hayes," Roman said, his voice dangerously quiet.

Connor’s hand shook violently as he swung the gun away from Harper and pointed it straight at Roman’s chest. "You... you think you own this city, Falco?! I'm not afraid of you!"

"You should be," Roman said smoothly, taking a deliberate step forward. "Because if that weapon goes off, there is no courtroom, no prison, and no law in this country that will save you from what I will do to you."

"Stay back!" Connor shrieked, taking a step backward, his foot slipping on a piece of shattered glass on the marble floor.

In that split second of distraction, Roman moved with terrifying speed. He closed the distance between them in two strides, his large hand snapping out to grab Connor’s wrist, twisting it upward with a sharp, sickening crack.

Connor let out a high-pitched scream of agony as the revolver clattered harmlessly onto the carpet. Roman didn't stop. He grabbed Connor by the collar of his suit jacket and slammed him face-first onto the mahogany desk, pinning him down with a single, massive hand resting on the back of his neck.

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"Touch her again," Roman growled into Connor’s ear, his voice sounding like grinding tectonic plates, "and I will bury you so deep under the riverfront terminal that not even your mother will find your bones."

Sirens wailed in the street forty-two floors below as flashing red and blue lights illuminated the fog outside the windows.

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