Shattered Vows Romano Revenge - Full Story

By Friday morning, the scandal had paralyzed the highest circles of Greenwich and Manhattan society.

Barrett had spent the last twenty-four hours in a state of blind panic. He hired a high-priced crisis PR firm to stem the bleeding, issuing statements denying all allegations, claiming the leaked photos were fabricated and that I was suffering from severe delusional schizophrenia.

He even had his lawyer release a statement claiming that he was the victim of domestic abuse by an unhinged, mentally unstable wife.

I sat in Dominic's private gym, watching the television screen while doing my physical therapy exercises. My ribs still burned whenever I turned my torso, but the doctor said the healing was progressing well thanks to the state-of-the-art ultrasound treatments.

"Look at him lying through his teeth," Rocco growled, standing near the door with his arms crossed. "He's pathetic."

On the television screen, Barrett stood outside his lawyer's office, holding a press conference. He was dressed in a muted gray suit, wearing a somber expression, looking tired and beaten.

"My wife Mallory is a deeply troubled woman," Barrett said into the microphones, his voice thick with fake emotion. "I have loved her and cared for her for ten years. It pains me immensely to see her mental health deteriorate to the point where she would fabricate such outrageous lies about me and Miss Vance, who was simply helping our firm manage Mallory's episode. I pray she gets the professional psychiatric help she so desperately needs."

A reporter held up a microphone. "Mr. Hayes! What about the frozen bank accounts and the federal investigation into your firm?"

Barrett offered a sad, patronizing smile. "A temporary misunderstanding brought on by false claims filed by Mallory's estranged, criminal family members. My legal team is resolving it as we speak. Tonight, I will be attending the Greenwich Heritage Gala as planned, where our firm will be receiving the Designer of the Year award."

I stared at the screen. The Greenwich Heritage Gala was the biggest social event of the year—an exclusive gathering of billionaire developers, politicians, wall street titans, and international press. Barrett thought that by showing up, acting dignified, and accepting the award on behalf of the firm, he could project strength and convince his investors that everything was fine.

Dominic walked into the gym, holding a velvet box in his hand.

"He thinks he can control the narrative, star," Dominic said, walking over to me. "He thinks if he stands on that stage tonight, his rich friends will protect him."

"He built his whole life on appearances, Dad," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead. "To Barrett, image is everything. If he loses his reputation, he loses his life."

Dominic opened the velvet box. Inside rested a breathtaking vintage necklace—a cascade of flawless white diamonds centered around a deep blood-red ruby the size of a pigeon's egg.

"This belonged to your grandmother," Dominic said softly, lifting the heavy diamond chain. "She wore it the night we took control of the five boroughs. It represents power, resilience, and blood."

He placed it around my neck. The heavy weight of the diamonds rested cool against my skin.

"Tonight, Mallory," Dominic murmured, looking at my reflection in the mirror, "you don't hide. You don't act like a victim. You walk into that gala like a queen coming to reclaim her throne."

I looked at myself in the mirror. The pale, bruised, terrified girl who had crumpled onto the basement floor four nights ago was gone. In her place stood a woman with fierce dark eyes, framed by high cheekbones and cold determination.

"What about Taryn?" I asked.

Dominic smiled coldly. "Her father, Assemblyman Vance, was arrested two hours ago by federal agents for tax evasion and bribery. She's desperate. She'll be at the gala, clinging to Barrett like a drowning rat."