Chapter 4 - The Mafia Boss Gave Me an Annulment Instead of Asking Me to Stay—And That Was the Moment I Realized the Most Dangerous Man in Chicago Had Become the First Man Who Truly Respected MeI annulled the marriage.
Everyone thought I was insane.
Penny didn't.
She understood immediately.
“So you're starting over.”
“Yes.”
“With Nikolai?”
“Maybe.”
She smiled.
“Poor man.”
The annulment became final seven weeks later.
Nikolai never challenged it.
Never called me ungrateful.
Never reminded me that he'd protected me.
Never asked for Hart shares.
Never sent flowers every day like a stalker with a florist account.
He sent one thing.
My grandmother's chess set.
It had been found in storage at the Hart estate.
A note accompanied it.
You should have what was always yours. — N
That was it.
I hated how much I liked him.
Meanwhile, the world burned.
My father was indicted on twenty-three federal counts.
My mother accepted immunity in exchange for testimony regarding the elder Nikolai Moretti's death.
Julian pleaded not guilty.
Then prosecutors revealed his purchased federal information.
His attorneys changed strategy.
Serena testified.
The newspapers called her everything imaginable.
Mistress.
Homewrecker.
Traitor.
I hated what she'd done to me.
But I hated watching strangers reduce her entire existence to her worst decision.
So when reporters cornered her outside federal court, I walked beside her.
Someone shouted:
“Evelyn, have you forgiven your sister?”
I stopped.
Serena looked terrified.
I answered:
“That's private.”
“Did she steal your fiancé?”
“No.”
Everyone went quiet.
I looked directly at the cameras.
“Julian Moretti was a grown man.”
“He made his own choices.”
“My sister is responsible for hers.”
“He is responsible for his.”
Then I walked away.
That clip went viral.
Serena called me that night.
“Thank you.”
“Don't make me regret it.”
“I won't.”
She kept that promise.
Hart Continental held an emergency shareholder vote.
My father was removed.
My twenty-three percent made me the largest independent shareholder.
The board offered me interim CEO.
I said no.
Then negotiated.
Independent ethics committee.
Employee board representation.
External audit.
No Hart family majority.
Then I accepted.
Not because my grandmother wanted it.
Because I did.
For the first time, Hart Continental became mine in a way that had nothing to do with inheritance.
I earned the chair.
Nikolai, meanwhile, dismantled pieces of the Moretti criminal structure.
Slowly.
Messily.
Two captains left.
One tried to challenge him.
Nobody disappeared.
The man was arrested six weeks later on an existing warrant.
Nikolai had called federal authorities instead of ordering violence.
Maso told me.
“He hated every second.”
“Good.”
“He complained for three hours.”
“Even better.”
“Then he went to therapy.”
I nearly dropped my coffee.
“Nikolai Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“Voluntarily?”
“Let's not exaggerate.”
I laughed.
Three months after the annulment, Nikolai asked me to dinner.
Not marriage.
Dinner.
His message:
Would you like to have dinner with me Friday? No business. No contracts. No council. You may say no without geopolitical consequences.
I replied:
What restaurant?
His response arrived immediately.
Is that a yes?
It's a due diligence question.
He sent the restaurant.
I said yes.
Our first real date was terrible.
Not because of him.
Because we had no idea how to be normal.
He arrived with security.
I stared.
He sent them outside.
The waiter recognized him and shook so badly he spilled water.
Nikolai apologized.
Then the chef sent twelve complimentary dishes.
I said:
“This feels like extortion.”
“I didn't ask.”
“Your face asked.”
“My face is innocent.”
“Your face has probably caused tax audits.”
He laughed.
It changed him.
I realized I liked making him laugh.
We talked.
About Isabella.
His late wife.
He told me he had loved her.
That mattered.
I didn't want a man who rewrote his dead wife because he liked me.
“She would have liked you,” he said.
“Why?”
“You both tell me when I'm being unbearable.”
“Smart woman.”
“She was.”
There was sadness.
But not unfinished possession.
Then he asked about Julian.
“Do you still love him?”
I considered.
“No.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
No jealousy.
No insult.
Just acceptance.
We dated.
Slowly.
For eleven months.
He never proposed.
That started irritating me.
Which Penny found hilarious.
“You annulled his marriage.”
“Yes.”
“You told him not to pressure you.”
“Yes.”
“He isn't.”
“I know.”
“And now you're mad?”
“Yes.”
“Women are terrifying.”
“Correct.”
On our one-year anniversary, I asked Nikolai:
“Are you ever going to marry again?”
He nearly choked on wine.
“Generally?”
“Don't be annoying.”
His expression became cautious.
“Would you want that?”
“I asked first.”
He stared.
Then said:
“Yes.”
My heartbeat changed.
“With whom?”
He gave me a look.
“I enjoy hearing you say things.”
“Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
“You.”
Simple.
I smiled.
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because I might marry you.”
He sat perfectly still.
“Is this a proposal?”
“No.”
“Cruel.”
“Patient.”
“You're enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
He laughed.
Then kissed me.
We had kissed before.
But that one felt different.
No bargain remained.
No council.
No revenge.
Just us.
Then the past returned.
Julian escaped federal custody during a hospital transfer.
At 6:17 one rainy October evening, Hart Continental security called.
A man had entered the underground garage using an old executive credential.
I knew before they said his name.
Julian.
My former fiancé.
My sister's former lover.
Nikolai's brother.
Security wanted to evacuate me.
I agreed.
Growth.
I did not insist on proving bravery by staying in danger.
But the elevator stopped on level P3.
Doors opened.
Julian stood there.
He looked nothing like the man from the engagement party.
Thinner.
Unshaven.
Desperate.
He held a gun.
“Hello, Evelyn.”
My body went cold.
The security officer beside me reached for his weapon.
Julian raised his.
“Don't.”
I lifted both hands.
“What do you want?”
“My brother.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because he'll come for you.”
Maybe once.
But Nikolai had learned.
“He'll call police.”
Julian laughed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You really believe he changed?”
“I know he did.”
“You barely know him.”
“I know him better than I knew you.”
That hurt.
Good.
Julian's face twisted.
“You were supposed to marry me.”
“No.”
“You were supposed to sign.”
“No.”
“Everything was supposed to work.”
“For you.”
“Yes!”
The word echoed.
Finally honest.
I looked at him.
“You never loved Serena.”
Silence.
“You never loved me either.”
His jaw tightened.
“I could have.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You loved what people could do for you.”
Sirens sounded outside.
Julian panicked.
He grabbed me.
Gun against my side.
The old me might have frozen.
The new me observed.
His right hand shook.
Left knee injured.
Weight unstable.
Security camera above us.
I kept him talking.
“Where will you go?”
“Mexico.”
“With what money?”
“I have money.”
“No.”
His face changed.
I smiled.
“Nikolai froze every account.”
“You're lying.”
“Your offshore accounts were tied to Moretti subsidiaries.”
His grip loosened slightly.
“You have nothing.”
“Shut up.”
“You betrayed everyone for control.”
“Now you don't even control the elevator.”
The doors began closing.
He turned instinctively.
I moved.
Drove my heel down onto his injured foot.
The security officer hit his wrist.
Gun fell.
Police stormed the garage seconds later.
Julian was arrested.
Again.
Alive.
When Nikolai arrived, he didn't rush toward me.
He stopped ten feet away.
His face was white.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Can I come closer?”
That question nearly broke me.
“Yes.”
He crossed the distance.
I wrapped my arms around him.
He shook.
The most feared man in Chicago was shaking.
“I almost lost you.”
“But you didn't.”
“I wanted to come myself.”
“I know.”
“Maso stopped me.”
“I'll buy him dinner.”
“I hated him.”
“Good.”
“I called police.”
“I know.”
“It was the hardest thing I've done in years.”
I pulled back.
“That is both romantic and deeply concerning.”
He laughed shakily.
Then his forehead touched mine.
“I love you.”
It was the first time he'd said it.
No ballroom.
No contract.
No audience.
Parking garage.
Police lights.
Rain.
I smiled.
“I love you too.”
His eyes closed.
Then I whispered:
“Don't get excited.”
Too late.
Three weeks later, Julian pleaded guilty.
He received twenty-seven years.
My father received eighteen.
My mother moved to Arizona after testifying.
Serena entered therapy.
She left Hart Continental.
Started working with a nonprofit supporting women rebuilding careers after coercive relationships.
It didn't erase what she did.
But it gave her somewhere honest to go next.
One year later, Nikolai invited me to the Halston Hotel.
Same ballroom.
Same chandeliers.
I stopped at the entrance.
“You're kidding.”
“No.”
“Of all places?”
“Trust me.”
Dangerous phrase.
But now I did.
Inside were no guests.
No reporters.
No white roses.
Only one table.
Dinner.
And my grandmother's chess set.
Nikolai sat across from me.
We played.
I beat him.
He claimed distraction.
Then he stood.
Walked around the table.
And stopped.
No kneeling yet.
“Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
“I have a question.”
“Dangerous.”
“I know.”
He reached into his pocket.
Then stopped.
“Before I show you this, you should know something.”
“What?”
“If you say no, dinner continues.”
I smiled.
“If you say not yet, dinner continues.”
My eyes burned.
“If you say never, I'll be devastated.”
“Honest.”
“But dinner still continues.”
Then he knelt.
Opened the box.
Inside was no giant diamond.
No family heirloom.
A beautiful sapphire ring.
Blue like my grandmother's chess pieces.
“I had it made new.”
“No Moretti history.”
“No Hart history.”
“Just ours.”
He looked up.
“Evelyn Hart, would you choose to marry me again?”
This time—
I didn't need a contract.
I didn't need revenge.
I didn't need protection.
I wanted him.
May you like
So I smiled.
“Yes.”
Related Stories
