A Mafia’s Trillionaire for Christmas

THE BETRAYAL

~LAUREN~

My chest constricted as Patrick's words struck me like a physical blow. I remained motionless, attempting to grasp the severity of what he was saying, but my mind struggled to keep up.

The tears I was trying to hold back would not fall, even though every part of me urged me to release them.

"You're not the right fit for me, Lauren. I need someone who can help me improve."

My voice barely escaped my lips. "Fifteen days before Christmas?"

He shrugged, the icy indifference in his gaze piercing deeper than any insult could. "I can't wait any longer."

This had to be a nightmare. I stared at him in disbelief, my thoughts swirling like a tornado. How could he do this? After everything—after three years of shared memories, plans for the future, promises of forever.

We had already talked about getting married after the holidays. I had been picturing it, imagining how beautiful it would be. 

And now, this. 

My heart splintered into a thousand jagged pieces. 

He could've at least waited until after Christmas. My family was already preparing to welcome him into their home, already expecting him at the dinner table. I had already pictured our first holiday together as an engaged couple. 

"I'm sorry, Lauren," Patrick continued, his voice devoid of warmth. "I tried, but I just couldn't." 

He turned to leave, and I reached out to grab his hand, my voice desperate, pleading. "I'll change. Just tell me what I did wrong, Patrick. You can't break up with me like this—not after all the plans, our dream." 

But he yanked his hand away so violently that I stumbled back, crashing to the wooden floor of my living room.

My hand brushed against the nutcracker figurine he had given me last Christmas, and the sickening sound of it shattering against the floor seemed to echo through my body. 

Patrick didn't even flinch. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him, and the silence that followed was suffocating. 

I sat on the cold floor, trembling, a wave of helplessness and sorrow crashing over me. The tears I had been holding back finally spilled, hot and bitter. 

Three days had passed since Patrick had left, and still, I couldn't bring myself to let go. I called, I texted, I sent him a message in every way I could think of.

I'd even resorted to embarrassing acts—clingy texts and desperate apologies—yet he never responded. It was as if he had erased me from his life completely. 

The weight of his absence pressed down on me, and all that remained was the lingering sense that he had moved on without a second thought. 

I looked down at the plane ticket clutched in my hand, my mind spinning. Was this escape really what I needed? Could a trip—something so simple—help me forget the wreckage of my life? 

Storm Media and Publishing, my new employer, was hosting their annual pre-Christmas retreat, a tradition that had been part of the company for years. This was my first time attending, my first chance to be a part of something outside of my turmoil.

The opportunity had seemed like a gift when I had first received the invite. Now, it just felt like another hollow distraction from the pain I couldn't shake. 

"Oh my God, the ring is incredible!" 

I snapped out of my thoughts, my attention drawn to the group gathered around Rosette, my head manager. They were practically fawning over her, admiring her engagement ring as if it were the Holy Grail. 

"Did you just say it, Diamond?" Lilac whispered, eyes wide as though speaking the words out loud could bring bad luck. 

"I'm so jealous! You're so lucky, Rose!" Fatimah added, her voice tinged with a mix of genuine excitement and quiet envy. 

I forced a smile, though a tight knot formed in my chest. At least someone was getting their happily-ever-after this holiday season. 

Rosette had been gushing about her engagement nonstop. This was the third time today she had flaunted her sparkling ring like it was a trophy. 

It should've been me. 

But how could I possibly wish that now, after what Patrick had done? He'd taken everything from me—my future, my heart, my dreams—and in its place, all I had were shards of memories that only hurt when I touched them. 

Despite my hatred for him, despite the pain he caused, a small, sick part of me still missed him. I missed the boy I had loved, my college sweetheart, the one who had been there for every major moment in my life.

The one who had stolen my innocence, made me believe in love, and now... 

Now, he was just a painful reminder of what I had lost. 

The laughter surrounding Rosette felt like a cruel mockery of what could have been mine. I clenched my fists, fighting back the overwhelming wave of resentment that wanted to break free. 

I needed to leave this place. I needed to escape—if only for a moment. 

But was running away really the answer? Or was I just burying my hurt, pretending that this trip could somehow fill the empty spaces he had left behind? 

"Flight 203, you may now proceed to board." The announcement broke through my thoughts. 

I sighed, glancing at the empty inbox on my phone. Patrick hadn't bothered to text. Why would he? 

I turned toward the gate, clutching my ticket tightly. This vacation might be a distraction, but it was still better than staying at home, crying, and letting my grief swallow me whole. 

The two-hour flight from New York to Florida was agonizing. I couldn't escape the noise of Rosette's incessant chatter about her fiancé, her engagement, and the dreamy life they were about to begin. 

My stomach twisted in knots, and I tried to focus on the scenery outside the window instead. The sky was a brilliant blue, but it felt like a dream I could never quite grasp. 

As we disembarked the plane, I collected my small suitcase, feeling ridiculous compared to the others. They had brought massive suitcases, each one more extravagant than the last.

Even Larry, the resident techie nerd, had a suitcase that looked like it could house an entire wardrobe. 

I silently chastised myself for not packing better. But then again, it wasn't as if I had planned to enjoy this trip. I had only come to escape. 

"You know it's only a one-week getaway, right?" Rosette called out behind me. 

I forced a smile. "I'm just a light packer." 

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but didn't press. 

We arrived at the resort, which looked more like a castle than a vacation spot. I could hardly believe my eyes.

As we piled out of the van, the excitement in the air was palpable. People were chattering, already excited to explore the property. I felt like I was in a daze. 

But then, as I was adjusting my bag, I heard Rosette's voice—louder, sharper. 

"Oh babe, you made it!" 

I turned, curiosity piqued. Who was she talking to? Who could top the engagement ring she was already flaunting? 

The answer stopped me in my tracks. 

"Patrick." 

The name slipped from my lips before I could stop it. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at the man standing in front of me. 

There was no way. 

No.