The Ex-Fiancée's Revenge

Bianca stared at Lorenzo as if he had just physically slapped her across the face.

*Apologize? To her?* To a complete nobody he had married less than twenty-four hours ago?

She let out a sharp, bitter laugh that echoed uncomfortably against the high ceiling. "You've changed, Lorenzo."

Lorenzo folded his arms over his chest, his posture radiating a terrifyingly calm authority. "No. You've simply forgotten your place."

Bianca's eyes widened in disbelief. "My place?"

"Yes," Lorenzo replied coldly. "You are my past." He shifted his gaze slightly, his eyes locking onto Lorrie. "She is my present. And until further notice... she is also my future."

Lorrie’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. *Future?* Hadn't he just called her a "contractual obligation" yesterday?

Bianca was equally stunned, her breathing growing shallow. "You're lying. You're just trying to hurt me."

Lorenzo picked up his porcelain cup and took a slow sip of his coffee. "I rarely waste my time doing that."

Bianca clenched her fists so tightly her manicured nails dug into her palms. "You told me marriage was a weakness, Lorenzo! You said love destroys men like you."

"It does."

"So what makes her so different?" Bianca demanded, pointing a trembling, accusatory finger at Lorrie.

Lorenzo looked at Lorrie. For a fraction of a second, something entirely unreadable—a faint flicker of intensity—flashed deep within his gray eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, the shutters came down, and his expression went entirely blank.

"Nothing."

Lorrie's heart sank into her stomach. *Nothing.* Of course. She was nothing to him. Just a deal. A signed agreement. A breathing insurance policy to fool his enemies.

Bianca saw the shift, and a triumphant smile returned to her face. "There. I knew it." She turned toward Lorrie, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. "He doesn't love you. He never will. And when this little fantasy ends, you'll crawl right back to whatever miserable hole you came from."

Lorrie inhaled slowly, forcing the stinging hurt down into a dark corner of her mind. She smoothed the skirt of her cream day dress, stood up, and offered Bianca a sweet, blinding smile.

"Maybe," Lorrie murmured.

Bianca blinked, caught off guard by the lack of tears. "What?"

"Maybe he doesn't love me. Maybe he never will," Lorrie said, taking a slow step toward the blonde. She looked Bianca directly in the eyes, her voice steady and dripping with quiet confidence. "But he married me. And he didn't marry you."

From the side of the room, Rosa let out a sudden cough to hide a loud laugh, and the corner of Lorenzo’s mouth twitched. He almost smiled.

Almost.

Bianca's face flushed a violent, humiliating red. "You think you've won?"

Lorrie shrugged carelessly. "I didn't even know we were competing."

Snatching her designer purse off the table, Bianca sneered. "This isn't over." She looked back at Lorenzo one last time, her voice shaking with heartbreak. "When she leaves you... don't come looking for me."

Lorenzo didn't even bother to look up from his paper. "I won't."

Bianca turned on her heel and stormed out of the dining room, the heavy double doors slamming shut behind her.

The room fell into a profound silence before Rosa burst out laughing, clapping her hands together. "Oh dear, oh dear! I absolutely like her." She pointed a finger at Lorrie. "She has real fire, Lorenzo."

Lorrie let out a long, exhausted sigh, sinking back into her chair. "I think I just made a very dangerous enemy."

"You made several," Lorenzo corrected, folding his newspaper and standing up. "There are many families who wanted to see their daughters become Mrs. Dimitri. And none of them appreciate losing to an outsider."

"Wonderful," Lorrie muttered, rubbing her temples. "So I traded predatory debt collectors for jealous, unhinged socialites. Excellent life choices on my part."

Lorenzo smirked, a rare glimpse of genuine amusement softening his harsh features. "You'll survive."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you fought back," he said, holding her gaze. "And people who fight back are incredibly difficult to destroy."

For some reason, those words felt deeply personal, hanging heavily in the space between them. It felt as though he wasn't just talking about Bianca, or the high-society vultures waiting outside the gates. He was talking about himself.

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing ring broke the moment. Lorenzo pulled a phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen. His expression hardened into stone instantly. He answered, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Speak."

Lorrie watched as the remaining color drained from his face, replaced by a terrifying, lethal darkness.

"Find him," Lorenzo commanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous baritone. "I don't care where he's hiding. Bring him to me."

He ended the call with a sharp click. Lorrie’s stomach dropped, a cold dread washing over her.

"Problem?" she whispered.

"Your father," Lorenzo replied, turning his piercing gray eyes toward her.

Lorrie stood up immediately, her hands trembling. "What about him?"

"He disappeared."

"What do you mean, disappeared? He was supposed to be laying low!"

"The hospital security footage from an hour ago shows him taking a large envelope of emergency cash from your mother's bedside drawer," Lorenzo stated flatly. "And then he walked out the back exit."

Lorrie's face turned a ghostly pale. "No... he wouldn't. Not again."

Lorenzo’s eyes darkened with a grim, uncompromising reality. "He already sold his daughter's future to settle a debt, Lorrie. Stealing from his sick wife isn't outside his wheelhouse."

Hot tears burned the backs of her eyes. She hated that Lorenzo was right. She hated that she couldn't even find the words to defend her own father. But what frightened her most wasn't the theft. It was the cold, calculating look on her husband's face.

"My enemies know you're my wife now," Lorenzo continued, walking around the table until he stood directly in front of her. "If your father owes money to the wrong people elsewhere, they will find him. And they will use him to get to you."

Lorrie's voice shook, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What happens if they find him first?"

Lorenzo reached down, calmly adjusting his luxury watch. His expression was a mask of absolute, unyielding power.

"They won't," he whispered, his gray eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. **"Because if anyone touches what is mine... they die."**

And for the first time since she had walked into his world, Lorrie realized she wasn't merely living with a billionaire. She wasn't just living with a ruthless businessman or a mafia boss. She was living with a man capable of tearing cities apart to keep control.

And whether she liked it or not, she had just become the very center of his world.