His Intern Called Him “Bro”— Too Bad I Wrote the Pick-Me Girl Manual! Chapter 08

His Intern Called Him “Bro”— Too Bad I Wrote the Pick-Me Girl Manual! Chapter 08

The moment Elena woke up in the hospital, she called Luca.

He didn’t pick up.

She pieced the whole thing together from the flood of messages on her phone.

Her golden son — her proudest achievement — had blown up his marriage over an intern, had his affair plastered across all of Chicago, and was now facing an intelligence leak investigation that could land him in a shallow grave.

Elena lost it.

She tore out of the hospital and drove straight to the Moretti headquarters.

Luca and Ruby were already in the middle of the internal investigation, separated into two different soundproof holding rooms.

Elena blew past the enforcers like she was possessed and threw open the door to Ruby’s holding room.

Ruby barely had time to look up before Elena slapped her hard across the face.

“You shameless little tramp! You ruined my son! This is all because of you!”

Everyone in the holding room froze.

Ruby shrieked, hand flying to her cheek, and every trace of her poor-little-me act vanished. What was left was pure venom.

“It wasn’t me! He helped me because he wanted to — how is that my fault?”

“You’ve got the nerve to talk back to me? If you hadn’t been all over him every single day, playing the little sister act, none of this would’ve happened!”

“If your son was really so innocent, could I have gotten him into bed? And if he had half a brain, would he have been dumb enough to hand me the syndicate’s files?”

“You’re both idiots, and you have the nerve to blame me? Get out of my face, you delusional old bat!”

It took three enforcers to pull them apart.

Out in the lobby, every associate in the building was watching the spectacle unfold.

In the other room, Luca heard the screaming. His face went white.

And to save himself, he did what came naturally.

“It was her!”

“She’s the one who lied to me — kept saying she had people at the Rossi syndicate, that she could get me inside information on the bid.”

“She wouldn’t stop pushing until I gave her the files. I just — I made a bad call.”

“I was manipulated. She’s the one behind all of this!”

Ruby stared at him in disbelief — at the man who’d been in bed with her less than twelve hours ago.

“Luca, you spineless coward.”

“You’re the one who wanted to win so badly. You came to me asking if I could reach out to the Rossis. And now that it blew up, you’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You used me to get yourself a permanent spot in the family!”

“Didn’t you call me your sweetest little sister? Funny how ‘sister’ turns into ‘the villain’ the second she’s not useful anymore.”

The two of them ripped each other apart in front of the capos, the enforcers, and every associate within earshot.

Every dirty detail they’d tried to bury came pouring out of their own mouths.

All of it was evidence. The consigliere barely had to lift a finger.

That evening, the Moretti family council released its official decree.

Luca had committed a serious violation of omertà by leaking core syndicate data. He was stripped of his titles, effective immediately, and placed under house arrest by the family.

Ruby was thrown out on the street on the spot and permanently exiled from the city’s business network.

The family’s front operations would also be filing a ruinous civil suit against both of them to drain their remaining assets.

One farce. Two ruined lives.

Luca didn’t just lose his title. The Moretti family stripped his authority, froze his accounts, and locked down every asset tied to the syndicate.

The cars, the houses, the titles he’d clung to his whole life — all of it was a joke now.

He went from the heir everyone wanted a piece of to the scandal everyone ran from.

He came for me next — calls, texts, emails, one after another.

Eventually, he showed up at my door.

“Sienna, I was wrong.”

“Just come out and talk to me. Please.”

“I made a mistake, okay? Just let me explain!”

I didn’t spare him a single look.

A few days later, I ran into him at the café downstairs. He was haggard — expensive suit wrinkled, stubble rough along his jaw. Nothing left of the polished Moretti heir.

The second he saw me, he staggerered toward me.

Then, in front of every person in that café, he dropped to his knees.

“Sienna, I know I messed up. I really do.”

“Give me one more chance. Let’s start over, okay?”