Chapter 2

• Ava’s POV
• I swallowed, taking a hesitant step back and lowering my gaze. "I'm here... because I need your support, Don Moretti."
• He raised an eyebrow, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "Support? For what, exactly?"
• I bit my lip, then met his gaze directly. "I want a divorce. From my husband, Caspian Pavlov."
• "You do realize your marriage to the Pavlov family was your mother's choice?" Don Moretti leaned forward, his voice low. "She insisted on a Russian match, and the Pavlovs were her only option."
• "I won't be a second wife," I said, my voice firm despite the tremor in my hands. "I know you're keeping the peace between our families, especially after the Romanov assassinations… but please, I beg you for your protection. I need a divorce." I straightened my posture, focusing on the strength within rather than the tears threatening to fall.
• He sighed, his gaze lingering on my face, my eyes, and then the faint tremor of my lips. He looked away, breaking our eye contact. "Do you understand the consequences of a divorce?"
• I remained silent.
• "You're alone now, Ava," he said, his voice heavy. "Your father, your mother, your brother—all gone."
• I hate him the way he called me by my first name, the name he'd called me when he visited the villa with his father during those long-ago meetings. I don't understand why I hate him. Perhaps it's because I've never seen him smile. Second, every time I see him, my heart races with nervous fear, as if he's capable of something terrible. Third, his family was one of my father's competitors. And lastly, I've never seen him with another woman, which makes me wonder if he hates women or simply loves only himself, and nothing else matters.
• "He broke his promise." I answered without hesitation. "I won't waste my life chasing the wrong person. Now that I am the only one left of the Romanov line, I refuse to live a miserable life."
• He walked back to his table and sat, watching me with an intensity that made me shift uncomfortably. He's dissecting me. "Can you really let him go?"
• I smiled faintly. "He gave me up, so I can give him up too."
• Suddenly, I looked up and met his gaze. He watched me intently as if calculating my every move or perhaps trying to read my true motives.
• "Your father saved my life fifteen years ago. I owe him that." He stood, adding, "So, you'll cut ties with the Pavlov family and pack your things. Since you're divorcing him, you'll stay at my hotel temporarily."
• I studied his face, trying to gauge his true intentions. This was Fabio Moretti, the man now at the helm of the Italian Mafia and, by extension, the Ironclad Organization.
• He was not his father, Alessandro, the formidable Don I remembered from my childhood.
• Alessandro, a man of immense power and ruthless reputation, had been forced to relinquish his control due to declining health, passing the mantle to Fabio.
• The weight of this transition hung heavy in the air. Without a strong leader, chaos would surely engulf them all. And here I was, asking Fabio to make a decision that could upset the delicate balance he was now responsible for maintaining.
• "You may go home now." He nodded to a guard stationed by the door. "Daniel, escort Miss Ava."
• Daniel stepped forward, his expression neutral. "This way, Miss Romanov."
• As I stepped outside, a soft smile touched my lips. I opened my phone and scrolled to our family lawyer's number. I needed to speak to him about the divorce.
• “Are you serious about this, Miss Romanov? You’re divorcing your husband?” the lawyer asked, his voice hesitant.
• “Did I stutter when I asked you to prepare the divorce documents? I need them as soon as possible.”
• He cleared his throat. “I hope you’re in your right mind, Miss Romanov.”
• “I am, Jonathan,” I said. “Please, hurry. I want them tomorrow morning. Thank you.”
• Then, I hung up and drove back to the Pavlov residence. I walked inside, attempting an air of nonchalance, but when Caspian saw me, his eyes widened in a way that wasn't entirely concerning. "Where have you been? It's been raining all day—" He paused, his gaze tightening slightly. "You're soaked."
• "Why do you care?" I scoffed, shrugging off my wet coat. "You're marrying someone else. Surely my whereabouts are of no concern."
• My personal maid Cecille rushed in, her usually warm smile marked with worry. "Oh, Miss Ava. I was so worried. You've been gone for hours. I thought… I thought something had happened." She wrung her hands, her eyes shifting between Caspian and me.
• "I'm fine, Cecille," I said, forcing a reassuring smile as I walked towards the stairs. "Just a long drive."
• "Let me prepare some hot soup for you, Miss Ava," she offered, her voice still trembling slightly as she headed towards the kitchen.
• Caspian followed me upstairs, his hand gripping my arm. "Do you think I don't know?" His voice was low, almost a growl.
• "Know what, Caspian?" I challenged, pulling my arm away.
• Then, Erica appeared at the foot of the stairs, her posture rigid, her eyes like cold stones. A faint, knowing smile played on her lips. "You went to Moretti's palace, didn't you?" She was watching me. I thought.
• "Ah, Erica Gambino," I said, my voice heavy with sarcasm. "How lovely to finally meet you."
• Caspian's grip tightened on my arm again. "What did you say to him?" His voice was sharp, a hint of fear in his eyes.
• When I didn’t answer his question, he suddenly seemed to feel the need to calm down. “You know we can discuss this problem privately. There’s no need to involve Don Moretti. If you accept Erica, I can give you an heir and your future life will be secure.”
• I chuckled softly, a hint of mockery in my tone. Then, I glanced at Erica. “Erica, do you agree with this? He wants to give me a child.”
• Erica rolled her eyes. “I’m not that petty or jealous. He will only give you a child, and nothing more. Afterward, he’s mine.”
• I couldn’t help but laugh at them; their foolishness was astounding. “Do you really think I’d settle for being the second wife?”