The cold night air swept through the abandoned estate on the outskirts of Paris, rustling the broken shutters and stirring the dust of forgotten memories. Azalea stood at the edge of the dimly lit hallway, her gloved fingers tightening around the handle of her suppressed pistol. Her mission was in motion, and every step led her closer to the man who had once held her heart in his grip—Osvaldo.
She steadied, pushing aside the whirlwind of emotions threatening to surface. This wasn't about personal revenge. It was about survival. It was about ending the hold he had over her once and for all.
Behind her, Ambrose moved with practiced ease, his sharp blue eyes scanning their surroundings. He had sensed the tension in her all night, but he hadn't pushed her to talk. He knew this mission meant more than taking down an enemy—it was about closure.
As they neared the grand study where Osvaldo was waiting, memories clawed their way into Azalea's mind, pulling her into the past.
Flashback: The Beginning of the End
Osvaldo had always been charming—disarmingly so. She had fallen for him in a whirlwind of passion and promise, believing in the fairy tale he had spun around them. In those early days, he had treated her like a queen, lavishing her with gifts, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as they danced under the chandeliers of their lavish home.
"You and I, Azalea," he had said one evening, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, "we are untouchable together. A force the world cannot reckon with."
She had believed him. She had wanted to believe him.
But then came the shadows—the little moments that turned into patterns, the possessive looks, the way he controlled who she spoke to, where she went, how she dressed. Love had quickly turned into a gilded cage, and before she realized it, she had become his possession rather than his partner.
The first time she had stood up to him, he had laughed. The second time, he had grabbed her wrist hard enough to leave bruises. The third time, he had whispered, "You can never leave me, Azalea. We are bound by more than love. We are bound by power."
It had taken every ounce of her strength to break free. And now, years later, she had returned—not as his wife, not as his victim, but as the woman who would destroy him.
The present snapped back into focus as Azalea and Ambrose reached the heavy oak doors of Osvaldo's study.
Ambrose tilted his head toward her. "You ready?"
She nodded. "More than ever."
He stepped back, allowing her the lead. This was her fight. He was just her backup.
Azalea pushed the doors open, her heels clicking sharply against the polished wooden floor. Osvaldo was waiting, as expected, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Ah, Azalea. I was wondering when you'd finally come home."
She held her ground, her gun steady at her side. "This was never my home, Osvaldo. It was my prison."
He chuckled, swirling his drink. "Such dramatics. I always loved that about you." His gaze flickered past her to Ambrose. "And I see you've upgraded. A billionaire, no less. A fitting choice for my little queen."
Ambrose said nothing, but his presence was an unspoken threat.
Azalea ignored Osvaldo's taunt. "You've spent years trying to control me, even after I left. But that ends tonight."
Osvaldo leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "You think you've won?" He set his glass down, standing to his full height. "You think this… whatever this is—" he gestured between her and Ambrose, "—makes you stronger than me?"
Azalea stepped closer, meeting him eye to eye. "Strength isn't about control. It's about knowing when to let go. And you? You never learned that."
His jaw tightened. "And what happens now? You kill me? Or do you let your new lover do it for you?"
Azalea smirked. "Oh, I don't need to kill you, Osvaldo. I just need to let the truth catch up to you."
She tossed a small drive onto his desk. His gaze flickered to it, confusion momentarily breaking through his arrogance.
"What is this?"
"Proof," she said simply. "Of every illegal transaction, every bribe, every betrayal you've ever orchestrated. Your allies won't protect you after they see this."
Osvaldo's expression darkened. "You think I haven't prepared for this? I have leverage, Azalea. On you. On him." He nodded toward Ambrose. "I can destroy you both with a single call."
Azalea smiled. "Then make the call."
Osvaldo hesitated.
She took another step forward, lowering her voice. "You don't hold power over me anymore, Osvaldo. You can threaten, you can scheme, but at the end of the day, you are nothing without control. And right now? You have none."
His hand twitched toward his phone, but he didn't pick it up.
Ambrose finally spoke, his voice calm but laced with warning. "This is your last chance to walk away with your dignity. Take it."
Osvaldo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had lost. The weight of it settled on his shoulders as he slowly sank back into his chair.
Azalea held his gaze a moment longer before turning toward the door. Ambrose followed, but before they exited, Osvaldo called out one last time.
"Azalea."
She paused.
He smirked bitterly. "I did love you, in my way."
She didn't turn around. "That was never the problem, Osvaldo. The problem was you loved power more."
And with that, she walked away, leaving him in the ruins of his own making.
Outside, the cool night air greeted her like an old friend. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a brief moment. It was over. Truly over.
Ambrose stepped beside her. "How do you feel?"
She exhaled slowly. "Lighter."
He studied her for a moment before offering his arm. "Then let's go home."
She looked up at him, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips. And for the first time in years, she felt free.