The other end of the line went dead silent for a moment.

Then, Damian spoke again, and his words chilled me to the bone.

"Ava, let's be honest. You gave up a high-paying job on Wall Street to follow me. Wasn't it because you wanted my protection?"

My hand tightened around the phone, my knuckles turning white.

He continued, his logic infuriatingly clear.

"If that's the case, then a meaningless title shouldn't matter to you."

"Isabella is different. She's a potential successor. She needs a weapon in her hands, and Phoenix is the perfect way for her to prove her capabilities to the entire underworld."

A roar filled my ears, and my blood ran cold.

He knew.

He knew all along. Every compromise I made, every time I swallowed my pride, every time I willingly stood in his shadow… he saw it all.

It wasn't that he didn't understand. He just didn't care.

He even saw my love for him as a license to strip me of my dignity whenever he pleased.

Since I loved him, I was expected to sacrifice my life's work for his "greater good," for his family.

My mouth opened, but my throat was filled with the metallic taste of blood.

I wanted to ask him what gave him the right. I wanted to ask if he knew that I was nearly flagged by Interpol cracking that dark web port.

But in the end, I said nothing. Any more words would just be another form of self-humiliation.

Exhausted, I just ended the call.

The next day, the internal showcase for the Five Families went on as scheduled.

This was the key meeting that would determine if the Costello family would dominate the money laundering channels for the next quarter.

Isabella stood confidently before the large screen, demonstrating the processing power of the 'Phoenix' system to the heads of the other families.

The capos and financial experts in the audience murmured their approval, marveling that the Don had produced such a brilliant daughter.

Then came the Q&A session. A request for an anonymous internal communication suddenly flashed onto the main screen.

A glaring red message popped up, accompanied by a piercing alert tone:

[I challenge the operational capabilities of the presenter, Miss Isabella Rossi. The core logic lock of this system uses an architecture originally created three years ago by Miss Ava Moretti.]

[Furthermore, the current demonstration has a fatal flaw. In the event of a capital overload, the entire dark web coordinate system will be exposed to the FBI. May I ask Miss Rossi, as the "creator," what is your emergency kill switch protocol?]

Isabella didn't know the first thing about algorithms. She didn't even know what a kill switch was.

She stared at the words, her face instantly turning ashen. The clicker in her hand fell to the floor with a clatter, and her panicked gaze shot to Damian in the audience.

The host tried to regain control of the room, but the whispers were already too loud to contain.

"Knew that airhead princess didn't suddenly grow a brain."

"So she stole it? And she stole something that wasn't even finished?"

I sat in the corner, my heart hammering in my chest.

I didn't do this. I would never resort to such a scorched-earth tactic.

I wouldn't stoop to something so underhanded.

Just then, a cold gaze cut through the chaotic crowd and locked onto me.

I looked up and met Damian's deep grey eyes.

He stared at me from across the room, his brow furrowed, his expression a mask of undisguised suspicion and profound disappointment.

He didn't even have to speak. I read everything in his eyes.

He was convinced that I, bitter about having my work stolen, had deliberately sabotaged the meeting in front of the Five Families, putting the family's interests at risk.

He saw me as the kind of person who would destroy Isabella's future, even if it meant damaging the family's reputation.

My heart sank.

Damian stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and strode onto the stage.

He took the microphone from the trembling Isabella, shielding her with his body. "Gentlemen, my name is Damian Costello."

"Regarding the anonymous query, I will offer one final clarification."

"The entire underlying logic of the Phoenix system was architected independently by Isabella, under my direct authorization. She is the sole owner of this system. I stake my reputation as Consigliere on it."

"As for the 'flaw' that was mentioned, that is a bait program Isabella deliberately left for counter-surveillance purposes. She simply hadn't had the chance to explain it yet."

He paused.

His cold eyes turned to me again. "As for the mention of Ava Moretti…"

He let out a small, dismissive laugh. "Ava is merely my administrative assistant. She handles filing and fetches coffee. She lacks the strategic vision and technical capability to architect a financial system of this magnitude on her own."

The room exploded.

"So that Ava is just a gofer?"

"I knew it. The rumors about her were always overblown."

"Sounds like some secretary's pathetic attempt to climb the ladder..."

I froze in my seat, feeling as if he had stripped me naked in front of everyone and lashed me with a whip.

Ten years of fighting side-by-side, countless times saving the family from financial ruin.

And from his lips, it all became "fetching coffee."

He had publicly nullified my entire worth.

He denied my skills, denied my sacrifices, denied the very meaning of my existence.

And he did it all just to protect a princess who didn't even understand the basics of her own supposed creation.

I felt a wave of humiliation and despair unlike anything I had ever known.

Damian turned back to the teary-eyed Isabella behind him, his voice instantly soft.

"Bella, don't be afraid."

"Continue with your presentation. I'm right here."

Damian's words were like a large-caliber round, punching straight through my armor.

The mocking, knowing looks from the crowd stung like a thousand tiny cuts.

Administrative assistant? Fetches coffee? Lacks core capabilities?

A decade of risking my life, of pulling the family back from the brink of financial disaster, was reduced to something so cheap, so worthless.

All to pave the way for a princess who had nothing but her bloodline.

I saw a flash of triumph in Isabella's eyes as she stood behind him. It was a needle that punctured my last shred of reason.

A molten rage washed over me, burning away my composure.

I shot to my feet, my chair scraping back as I charged toward the stage.

The moment my foot hit the first step, a powerful hand seized my wrist.

Damian had moved with lightning speed. His grip was so tight it felt like my bones would crack.

"Come with me," he warned, his voice low. The face I had loved for ten years was now as cold and unfamiliar as a stranger's.

"Let go!" I struggled, my voice trembling with rage.

Damian gave me no chance to resist.

He gave a slight nod to the stunned audience, his tone returning to its usual elegant calm.

"My apologies. My assistant appears to be emotional over some work-related changes. Excuse us."

With that, he ignored my struggles and practically dragged me out of the conference room.

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind us, cutting off all sound from within.

In the empty hallway, only the sound of our breathing remained.

I wrenched my arm free. An angry red mark was already blooming on my wrist.

I leaned back against the wall, gasping for air, and stared at him.

"You'd grind me into the dust just to prop her up?"

"In your eyes, am I less than a dog? At least a dog gets a word of praise from its master. What am I?"

Tears welled up, but I forced my eyes wide, refusing to let them fall.

Damian watched me in silence. The dim hallway light cut his face into sharp planes of shadow, hiding his expression.

Just when I thought he would fob me off with more of his pragmatic reasoning, he suddenly took a step forward.

He braced one hand on the wall beside my head and used the other to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

He lowered his head, and his cold lips crashed down on mine without warning.

There was no prelude. It was a violent, silencing act.

His lips were cool and dry, moving against mine with an unyielding force that demanded submission.

My body went rigid. My mind went blank.

Damian pulled back just enough to look down at my stunned, speechless face. His throat worked as he swallowed.

"Now… can you calm down and not ruin this meeting?"

My eyes widened in disbelief as I stared at the face so close to mine.

I had chased him for a decade, fantasized countless times about this kind of closeness, even accepted an engagement that relegated me to the shadows.

I had once so desperately craved his touch, dreamed so many times of a kiss where he would lose control.

But now this long-awaited kiss had come, under these circumstances, delivered this way, all to shut me up.

A wave of shame, sharper than any public humiliation, washed over and drowned me.

A sharp crack echoed through the corridor.

I raised my hand and, with all the strength I possessed, brought it down across his face.

My palm stung from the impact.

Damian's head snapped to the side. Five red fingerprints bloomed across his proud face.

He was stunned.

For the first time, I saw shock in those deep grey eyes that were always in control of everything.

My hand was still shaking, but my heart felt like it had been hollowed out, aching with an empty pain.

"You think I'm throwing a tantrum? You think a kiss will make me forget this?"

I looked at him, and the tears finally broke free, but they were accompanied by a cold laugh.

"Damian, you disgust me."

Without another look at him, I turned and strode away.

I didn't go back to the conference room. I didn't try to argue my case.

None of it mattered anymore.

The light in the hallway was blinding. I raised a hand and wiped away my tears.

I went straight back to my office and opened the encrypted server.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, entering one final command.

Initiate backdoor program. Format all data.

Under that string of commands, the core code of the Phoenix model dissolved into endless, meaningless gibberish.

If you wanted to give it away, then I would reduce it to a pile of scrap.

After I was done, I pulled out the hard drive and fed it into a shredder.

Then, I blocked Damian's number and all his contacts.

A few hours later, I was standing in the security line at JFK Airport.

The boarding announcement began. I picked up my small suitcase and walked toward the gate without looking back.

The plane climbed into the sky, into the thick blanket of clouds.

Goodbye, Damian.

And goodbye to ten years of my own idiocy.