The 33rd Divorce from the Don Chapter 06

The 33rd Divorce from the Don Chapter 06

Massimo’s POV

My heart raced. I practically lunged forward: “I knew you’d come back…”

The figure turned around.

Claudia.

She wore that white nightgown, beaming: ‘Surprise, darling?”

She twirled: ‘Like it? Not like Adela needs it anymore-

Before she could finish, I shoved her hard.

Hard enough that she slammed into the wall with a dull thud.

“Take It OFF!” My voice came out low and terrifying, eyes bloodshot. “NOW!”

Claudia clutched her shoulder, disbelief written across her face: ‘Are you INSANE? Over a nightgown-

“It’s HERS!” I roared. ‘Don’t you fucking TOUCH it!’

‘She’s GONE! Claudia screamed back, tears streaming down. “Gone! She’s never coming back! How long are you going to lose your mind over her?!

“We’ve been together all these years-I was TORTURED saving your life! Don’t I mean as much to you as she does? Why cant you just SEE me?!

I stared at her, voice ice-cold: ‘I’ll never marry you. NEVER. My wife can only be Adela.”

“You- Claudia shook with rage, suddenly rushing forward to shove me. ‘You actually think she’s coming back? Keep DREAMING!”

I grabbed her wrist and flung her away. She stumbled, her phone sliding out of the nightgown pocket and clattering to the floor.

The screen lit up.

I saw the chat history. Photo after photo, message after message-all sent by Claudia to Adela.

The most recent one: me lying disheveled in bed, Claudia leaning against me.

My mind went blank.

“What the hell is this?” I snatched up the phone, teeth clenched. “You sent this to her?”

Claudia’s face went white: “Massimo, wait, listen-

I grabbed her throat: “You DESTROYED everything! She thought I was with you-all because of this photo!”

I… I love you… Claudia struggled desperately. “I really… love you…”

‘Love me?” I released her. She collapsed to the floor, coughing violently. I stood over her, laughing coldly. “What the FUCK do you know about love?”

Claudia looked up, tears and snot covering her face, suddenly laughing hysterically: “I don’t know about love? Do YOU? Massimo, what are you playing at

now? Mr. Devoted Lover?”

“You’re more of a HYPOCRITE than I am! Five years! She did everything for you-what did you EVER give her?!” Claudia sneered. “You made her divorce and remarry over and over, played with her like a TOY! Now she’s gone and you’re pretending to be heartbroken?!”

Each word cut deep.

“You’re right,” after a long silence, I spoke, voice flat and cold. “I am a hypocrite.”

“But that doesn’t mean you get to stay.”

I turned away: “Pack your things. Leave tonight.”

‘Massimo!’ Claudia rushed over and grabbed me. I was WRONG! Please don’t throw me out-I love you! I really love you!”

“But I don’t love you,” I pried her hands off. ‘Never have.”

I pressed the intercom: ‘Get her out of here.”

Two guards entered and hauled away the still-screaming Claudia.

“You’ll REGRET this! You WILL—*

The door closed. Silence.

I stood in the empty bedroom, bent down to pick up that white nightgown. The fabric felt cold in my hands.

This was the first gift I’d given Adela. Our wedding night, she wore it, eyes shining: “Like it?”

“Yeah. I’d said, then pulled her onto the bed.

That was our best moment.

And I destroyed it with my own hands.

I collapsed onto the bed, buried my face in my palms.

Adela, I’m sorry…

But it was too late.

Adela’s POV

Two years later.

“Signorina Moreau, tonight’s high roller room revenue has reached eight million dollars.”

I stood before the one-way glass, overlooking the glittering casino floor below. The manager stood behind me respectfully, reporting the night’s numbers.

I nodded, scanning the real-time data on my tablet. Every table’s turnover-all under my control.

“Good.” I set down the tablet. “Keep monitoring table seven. That guy’s luck is too consistent.”

“Yes, Signorina.”

I wasn’t that cautious woman anymore.

After returning to the Moreau family, Father Alessandro made me start from the bottom-dock supervision first, then shipping logistics, then coordinating the underground trade networks. Every step was real, hard-earned training.

Now I controlled the family’s three premier Mediterranean casinos, an empire worth billions.

The office door opened.

“My daughter. Father Alessandro walked in.

“Papa.” I stood and embraced him, switching to Italian. ‘It’s so late, why haven’t you rested?”

“Wanted to see my daughter. Father settled onto the couch, looking at me with satisfaction. ‘You’re doing excellent work, Adela. Better than I did at your

age.”

‘You taught me everything.”

Father handed me a folder: “Latest report on Salvatore.”