Page 16 of King of Manhattan

The next morning dawns bright and clear, a beautiful New York day that seems at odds with the turmoil I feel inside. I go through the motions of my usual routine - shower, coffee, a quick breakfast - before calling a cab to take me to the airport.

JFK is a hive of activity when I arrive, the departures hall echoing with announcements and the hum of countless conversations. I check in, hand over my bag, and make my way through security in a daze.

It's only when I reach my gate, passport and boarding pass clutched in my hand, that the reality of what I'm doing truly hits me. I'm leaving. I'm running away to Paris, away from Vince.

For a moment, panic grips me. What am I doing? Is this really the answer?

As they call my flight for boarding, I take one last look at my phone. There are more messages from Vince, each one making my heart twist a little more.

"Emily, I'm so sorry. Please let me explain."

"I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe that."

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and turn off my phone. I need to focus on myself, on figuring out what I want.

∞∞∞

When we finally land at Charles de Gaulle Airport, I feel a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. As I make my way through customs and collect my bag, I can feel the beginnings of excitement stirring beneath the emotional fatigue.

I'm in Paris. Despite everything, a small thrill runs through me at the thought.

I catch a taxi to the small hotel I booked, located in the heart of Saint-Germain. As we drive through the city, I find myself pressed against the window, taking in the sights I've only ever seen in pictures and movies. The elegant buildings, the tree-lined boulevards, the glimpses of the Seine - it's all so beautiful. Vince would love this. Then I realize what I just said to myself, and close my eyes to keep the tears from falling.

By the time I check into my hotel and make it to my room, I'm dead on my feet. The room is small but charming, with a lovely small balcony that overlooks a busy street. I drop my bags and step out onto the balcony, breathing in the Parisian air.

I can't believe I'm in Paris. But I also can’t shake the nagging feeling that this wasn’t the right move. That I should have given Vince more time to explain.

Chapter 9

Vince

The meeting with the Colombians is supposed to be a negotiation, but I should have known better. As soon as I walk into the abandoned warehouse, I can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

Marco, ever loyal, has insisted on coming with me. Now, as I watch him fall to the ground with a cry of pain, clutching his bleeding leg, I realize how badly I've miscalculated.

"Boss, get down!" Marco shouts through gritted teeth.

I dive behind a stack of crates as bullets whiz past my head. The sound of gunfire is deafening in the cavernous space. My heart pounds in my ears as I pull out my own weapon, returning fire when I can.

"You thought you could expand into our territory, Vincenzo?" a voice calls out in heavily accented English. "You forget your place."

I grit my teeth, anger surging through me. This isn't just about territory. This is about power, about respect. Everything I've built over the years.

But as I crouch here, the acrid smell of gunpowder filling my nostrils, a strange calm washes over me. In this moment, staring death in the face, none of it seems to matter anymore. The empire, the money, the power - it all feels hollow.

Instead, my mind fills with images of Emily. Her smile, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs, the feeling of her lips against mine. I think of the life we could have had if I'd made different choices. A normal life, free from violence and fear.

A bullet grazes my arm, and I hiss in pain. The wound is superficial, but it brings me crashing back to reality. I'm pinned down, outnumbered, and rapidly running out of options.

For the first time in years, I feel real fear. Not for myself, but for what I'm leaving behind. For who I'm leaving behind.

"Emily," I whisper her name like a prayer. In this moment of clarity, I realize that she's the one pure thing in my life of darkness.

If by some miracle I survive this, I vow to myself that I'll make it right. I'll leave this life behind, no matter the cost. Because a life without Emily isn't a life worth living.

With renewed determination, I take a deep breath and prepare to make my move. I may die here, but I'll die fighting for a chance at a better life. A life with Emily.

As I emerge from my cover, gun raised, time seems to slow. In this suspended moment, I see my life for what it truly is - a series of choices that led me here, to this warehouse, to this crossroads.

---