The room buzzed with excitement as Gregory rose to speak, a confident glint in his eye.
"Before we begin, I ask for your support," he said, his voice steady but commanding. "I promise your businesses will never suffer a single loss. You'll be free to pursue any ventures you wish, without interference."
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, voices rising in encouragement.
"Now that's what we're here for!" one man called out, grinning widely.
"You've got our full support," added another.
"We've suffered enough under Damon's rule," a third man chimed in, nodding his thanks.
Gregory waited for the noise to settle before he spoke again, his voice low and intense. "But for this to happen, Damon Moon must die. And tonight is the night."
One by one, every head in the room nodded. Tonight, Damon Moon would fall.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the city, Damon called Zach into his office. "I won't be able to make it tonight to receive the cargo. Something urgent has come up. I need you to handle it," he instructed.
Zach's face lit up, thrilled at the chance to prove himself. "I won't let you down, Boss," he said eagerly, bowing before he left the office.
Once alone, Damon walked to his office window, gazing out as the sun vanished, leaving only a faint glow in the sky. His mind churned with questions, trying to understand why Elena had asked to meet him at midnight in her apartment.
Meanwhile, at her home, Rico called Elena to the balcony. He handed her a glass and they both sat quietly, watching as the last rays of the day faded. Finally, Rico broke the silence.
"Damon is trouble," he said grimly. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to the civil affairs bureau myself. We'll have your marriage certificate revoked."
Elena nodded, her heart heavy. She had rushed into this marriage, and now it was clear even to her that it had been a terrible mistake.
Suddenly, she looked at him, her voice soft but direct. "Was Damon the one who… hurt you?"
Rico's eyes widened in surprise. "What? What made you think that?" he stammered, taken aback.
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You've been holding a grudge for as long as I can remember."
"It's not just that," Rico insisted, defensive. "Damon's dangerous—an evil man. Even if he hadn't wronged me, I'd still feel the same way."
"Sure," Elena said, though doubt lingered in her voice. Just then, the balcony door slid open.
"Hello, love," Sofia, Rico's girlfriend, greeted him as she stepped out. She walked straight over to him and kissed him, not caring that Elena was there.
"Hi, Elena," Sofia said with a warm smile.
"Hi, Sof," Elena replied, managing a small smile in return.
"Oh! My mom mentioned you got married. Congratulations!" Sofia said brightly.
"No, don't congratulate her," Rico snapped, his voice sharp.
Sofia held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, my bad!"
Elena rose to her feet, feeling like an intruder in their happiness. She excused herself, slipping back inside.
Sofia had a love so real, so cherished, and it only reminded Elena of what she longed for but had never truly found—a love that didn't come with lies or betrayal.
The night blurred by, and before Elena realized, it was nearly midnight. She went to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and dressed casually in sweatpants, a shirt, and sneakers, ready to meet Damon.
In his office, Damon glanced at the clock, counting the minutes until midnight. A ring from his phone broke the silence.
"Boss, we're at the port," Zach reported.
"Good," Damon replied. "The cargo arrives exactly at midnight. Don't miss it."
"Yes, Boss."
Zach ended the call and pulled on a face mask, blending in to avoid suspicion since Damon wasn't there in person.
Meanwhile, not far from the port, Gregory and Mr. Lee checked their watches. Just twenty minutes left until midnight—twenty minutes until Damon Moon's end.
Elena stepped out of the bathroom, slipping quietly down the hallway. She considered talking to Rico before leaving, but the sounds from his bedroom made it clear he was… preoccupied.
Outside the Eastwood Apartments, Damon took a deep breath, steadying himself before pressing the doorbell.
The door opened, revealing Elena, bathed in moonlight. Her face was calm, her gaze unwavering. "Come on in," she said softly.
He followed her inside, his eyes never leaving her.
"Want something to drink? Water? Juice?"
"Water's fine."
She returned moments later with a glass, and he took it, his fingers brushing hers for a brief second. "Thank you," he murmured, setting the glass down. "So, why did you ask me to come here?"
Elena took a breath, gathering her thoughts. "I'm pretty sure you know my brother."
Damon nodded, his face unreadable. "We go way back," he replied smoothly. "Why do you ask?"
Elena looked away, hesitation flickering in her gaze. "I don't think it's right to continue with this marriage. I was reckless, marrying a stranger—a man I didn't know was a mafia boss. I made a mistake."
At the port, the ship carrying the cargo arrived right on time.
"Boss, it's here," one of the men called to Zach, mistaking him for Damon.
Zach nodded and stepped out of his car, striding confidently toward the docks.
In a car nearby, Mr. Lee leaned forward, eyes locked on the port. "Do it. Kill him," he ordered, his tone icy. Beside him, Gregory's face broke into a sinister grin. His moment of vengeance had finally come.
Back in Elena's apartment, Damon's expression softened, and he looked at her with surprising vulnerability. "So, what do you want?" he asked quietly.
She met his gaze, fear and embarrassment flickering across her face. "I… I want a divorce."
For a long moment, Damon said nothing, his silence drawing out her anxiety. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off.
"Is this because of your brother… or because of who I am?"
Elena hesitated, struggling for words. Just as she was about to respond, Damon stepped closer, closing the distance between them. He gently lifted her chin, making her look into his eyes.
Her heart raced, her breath catching as his hand moved to her waist, pulling her even closer. His voice softened to a whisper.
"Can we… not divorce?"