Shattered Vows Romano Revenge - Full Story

The next afternoon, Barrett executed his plan exactly as we predicted.

From my tablet in the penthouse, I watched live security feed footage from the headquarters of Hayes & Romano Design in Midtown Manhattan. Barrett sat at the head of the long glass boardroom table, wearing his sharpest navy Tom Ford suit, looking every bit the smooth, aristocratic CEO.

Taryn sat three seats down from him, wearing a white designer suit, acting as his 'special corporate consultant.'

"As you all know," Barrett announced to the board of directors, his voice full of solemn, tragic fake concern, "my beloved wife Mallory has been under immense stress due to our expanding international workload. Unfortunately, two nights ago, she suffered a severe emotional episode at our home."

Several board members gasped, murmuring in hushed tones.

Barrett wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "She became violent, smashed several priceless antiques, and unfortunately fell down the stairs, injuring herself. She is currently resting under strict psychiatric supervision at an undisclosed facility."

Taryn leaned forward, adding her practiced sob. "It's so heartbreaking. Mallory was like a sister to me. But right now, Studio Romano needs strong, stable leadership to reassure our luxury investors."

Barrett produced a leather folder. "Therefore, under paragraph four of our corporate charter regarding spousal incapacitation, I am exercising emergency voting control of Mallory's fifty-one percent equity."

He uncapped his Montblanc pen and signed the document with a flourish. The board members, trusting his pedigree and completely unaware of the truth, clapped softly in sympathy.

I watched the screen, my expression stone cold.

"He signed it," I said quietly.

Standing beside me, Dominic waved his hand to his legal chief, Marcus. "File the injunctions now."

"With pleasure, Don Dominic," Marcus replied, pulling out his encrypted satellite phone.

Within three minutes, the reality began to crash down on Barrett Hayes.

On the live feed, Barrett's personal secretary burst into the boardroom without knocking, her face pale as snow.

"Mr. Hayes! Mr. Hayes, you need to look at the news!"

Barrett frowned, annoyed. "Brenda, we are in an executive board meeting—"

"Sir, every bank account associated with Hayes Development and Hayes & Romano has just been frozen by federal order!" she shrieked.

Barrett froze. "What? That's impossible! On what grounds?"

"Suspicion of international wire fraud, money laundering, and grand larceny," Marcus’s voice echoed through the speakerphone as he executed the legal filings in real time.

Simultaneously, Barrett's phone began ringing frantically. He picked it up with shaking hands.

"Dad?" Barrett stuttered into the phone. "What's going on?"

His father, Arthur Hayes, was screaming so loud through the receiver that everyone in the boardroom could hear it. "Barrett! What did you do?! Dominic Romano’s enforcement team just arrived at our corporate offices! They seized all our deeds! The primary lender called in our sixty-million-dollar construction bond immediately! We are ruined! The family is bankrupt!"

"No... no!" Barrett gasped, staggering backward out of his chair, knocking over his glass of water. "That can't be! Dominic Romano is retired! He can't do this!"

Taryn jumped up from her seat, her eyes wide with terror. "Barrett, what is happening?!"

Suddenly, every cell phone in the boardroom buzzed simultaneously with a push notification.

It was an news alert from the New York Post, complete with high-resolution photos taken by Dominic's team:

EXCLUSIVE: Greenwich Socialite Barrett Hayes Under Investigation for Embezzlement and Domestic Violence. Photos of Alleged Mistress Taryn Vance at Mansion Leak.

The photos showed Taryn wrapped in my silk robe outside the Greenwich house while I was locked in the basement, alongside clear screenshots of the wire transfers to their Cayman Islands account.

The boardroom exploded into chaos. Board members jumped up, shouting questions at Barrett, demanding answers, backing away from him like he was poison.

On the screen, Barrett looked around wildly, sweating through his five-thousand-dollar suit, his smooth demeanor completely shattered.

I reached out and paused the video feed, staring at Barrett's terrified face frozen on the screen.