He Sent Me Away So I Took His Crown Chapter 04
Luca slowly turned his head back.
The red mark on his cheek stood out sharply, but his eyes held the look of someone hearing a ridiculous joke.
“Elias Reed? The bloodline diagnostics company?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve barely met the man.”
He let out a cold laugh.
“So you’re making this up to force me to make our marriage public?”
I didn’t bother to explain.
That only seemed to convince him further that I was trying to provoke him.
“Reed is the hardest man in the underground racing world to get a meeting with. Three families are waiting for his independent registry system to launch. You think he’d risk taking on a woman who just filed to dissolve her marriage and could walk away with Moretti’s internal records?”
His gaze dropped to my shirt, stained with Lark’s blood.
“Wake up. Without the protection of the Moretti family, you have nothing.”
That used to be the sentence I feared most.
Now that I was finally hearing it, it felt more like a rope, stretched tight for years, had finally snapped.
“Are you done?”
Luca’s face darkened.
“One last chance. Call my grandfather and tell him today was an accident. Tell him to restore Bellandi’s auction channels. Then, before the annual auction on Saturday, you will explain everything to the leaders on Bianca’s behalf.”
“I won’t.”
“Then there really won’t be any road back for us.”
I looked at the marriage dissolution agreement on the table.
“There already isn’t.”
Luca slammed the door on his way out.
Only then did I realize the call with Elias had never disconnected.
“Do you need me to come over right now?” he asked.
“No.”
I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, rubbing the red mark on my arm where Luca’s grip had been.
“I want to handle this myself first.”
“Okay,” Elias said, not insisting. “But I’ll be in Chicago before Saturday. Not to make decisions for you. I just don’t believe an heir who’s already put his hands on you is suddenly going to learn respect for boundaries.”
The next day, I contacted the independent adviser who managed my racing assets.
The eighteen percent stake Vittorio had given me came with full disposal rights. I sent the valuation report to two cooperatives that had long wanted access to the Illinois market, then began sorting the bloodline database and licensing contracts that were under my own name.
I had no intention of destroying Vittorio’s business.
But I was done letting the Moretti family keep what was mine on its books for free.
That afternoon, footage from the breeding center began circulating among the families.
Someone had captured the chaos. They had also captured Bianca’s injured wrist.
Bianca posted a photo of her bandaged hand to her private social media account.
*I only wanted to prepare a gift for our two families’ banquet. I hope Lark recovers safely, and I hope certain people stop hurting innocents over a misunderstanding.*
It didn’t take long for people to realize Lark belonged to me, and that the authorization form did not bear my signature.
Someone else released photos of Luca carrying Bianca away while I stayed behind, alone with my injured horse.
The invited leaders began asking why a woman who had not even completed an engagement ceremony already had access to a Moretti wife’s authority.
That night, Luca called.
“Did you leak those authorization forms?”
“No.”
“Bianca is terrified to set foot in any auction house now. You know she didn’t do it on purpose. Why won’t you explain that for her?”
I laughed, the sound hollow.
“Because the facts don’t need me to rewrite them.”
He was silent for a few seconds.
“The annual auction will proceed as planned at ten o’clock Saturday morning. Five leaders and two allied families will be there. Before the tribute banquet starts that night, you will make a public statement.”
“You’ll say you lost control emotionally, and that the authorization was a communication error. I’ll cover Lark’s medical bills and give you the public ceremony you always wanted.”
“I refuse.”
“Elena, I have the audio from the breeding center.”
He played a short clip.
It was my voice, sharp and furious: *“Whoever touched Lark, I’ll make sure this auction doesn’t happen.”*
Everything before and after had been cut. What remained sounded like a direct threat against family business.
“If you don’t show up, I’ll give this recording to every leader attending the tribute. You know how many of our people rely on this auction to get paid. Don’t make them think you’re planning to betray the entire family.”
He paused, then added the bait, his voice softening to the gentle tone he always used.
“This is the last time. Once you explain, I’ll make our marriage public, and I’ll give the north garden back to you.”
I didn’t agree.
But at nine o’clock Saturday morning, I went to the auction grounds.
Not to clear Bianca’s name.
I was going to announce in front of every witness that I was withdrawing from the Moretti racing business and making public Lark’s medical records and my ownership rights over the bloodline system.
The moment I stepped into the backstage corridor, however, two Moretti enforcers blocked my path.
“Mr. Moretti asks that you wait in the old quarantine room.”
“Move.”
Neither man budged.
Luca emerged from around the corner, holding the access card I had once given him.
“You need to calm down before you make your statement.”
“I am calm.”
“Yesterday you sent withdrawal notices to core staff. Today you came with advisers. If the leaders see you like this, they’ll treat it as a public betrayal.”
He gave the two men a sharp nod.
They forced me into the old quarantine room.
It had once been used to isolate newly arrived animals. The walls were thick, windowless, with only a small vent high up that connected to the empty-stall fumigation system.
The heavy metal door swung shut.
The lock dropped with a terrifying finality.
“Luca!”
I pounded on the door.
His voice came through the metal, muffled but clear.
“The moment you’re willing to read the statement, I’ll let you out. I’m protecting you, Elena. And I’m protecting the family.”
At exactly ten o’clock, the auction hall’s broadcast system crackled to life.
The host first announced that Bianca would not be appearing due to “unjust accusations,” then began reading a statement signed with my name.
“I, Elena Mercer, in a fit of personal jealousy, interfered without authorization in the Moretti family’s breeding arrangements and caused injury to the Bellandi patriarch’s daughter…”
I had never written that statement.
And I had certainly never signed it.
I heard footsteps in the hall, but no one responded to my pounding.
A few minutes later, a low mechanical hum started in the vent overhead.
A sharp, sickly-sweet smell poured into the room.
A red indicator light blinked on by the door.
The empty-stall fumigation system.
It was only supposed to be activated when a room had been confirmed vacant.
I immediately shoved my coat into the vent and hammered on the door with all my strength.
“There’s someone in here! Shut the system off!”
No answer.
My throat began to burn. The door swayed in my vision.
Over the speakers, the host was still reading my supposed confession.
“I admit that I am jealous of Bianca, and I am willing to accept internal punishment from the Moretti family…”
I slid to the floor. The green paint marker in my hand rolled toward the door.
Just before I lost consciousness, I heard an uproar from the auction hall.
Then someone slammed a heavy kick into the quarantine room door.
“Elena!”
It was Elias.