Page 118 of Divine Obsession

Trevor’s voice was cold; controlled. But there was a dark fire in his eyes. “And I’m supposed to believe your family isn’t capable of playing dirty? The Morettis don’t exactly have a reputation for playing fair, Natalia.”

“That’s funny, coming from the man whose father has entire industries in his back pocket from handling mass arms dealings with the underworld’s largest criminal groups.” I breathed hard. “You really want to compare legacies, Trevor? Because we can. And yours is just as tarnished as mine.”

He didn’t flinch, meeting my glare head-on. “At least we don’t hide. Your family operates in the shadows. The Dynasty is a Fortune-500 empire.”

My fists clenched at my sides. “You arrogant–” I stopped myself, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I trusted you enough to work with you, and this is how you repay me? By trying to frame us?”

His jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. “Don’t flatter yourself. We didn’t frame anyone. But maybe you should take a closer look at your family’s little business ventures. You might find you don’t know them as well as you think.”

That hit a nerve.

“I know my family, Trevor. And I know they wouldn’t risk everything to pull some stupid shit like this.”

“Then you’re either fucking blind or in denial,” He shot back. “Though I’m leaning more towardsnaive.”

“Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

“Likewise.” His voice was ice.

I shoved the laptop in my pink Birkin.

“Let me make one thing clear, Natalia. I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“Oh,trust me. I’m not worried about you. I’mdisgustedby you.”

Storming out of the glass office, I saw the trigger I pulled work its way through his features.Black tar rage.

I’d just taken us somewhere, I should’ve never.

Kazuo’s penthouse sat high above Chinatown, a glass-and-marble throne overlooking a city that didn’t respect him. The air smelled of expensive whiskey, designer cologne, and something synthetic – like new money trying too hard to smell like real power.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a dimly lit space. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the room, reflecting the neon glow of the streets below. A koi fish tank, too big to be tasteful, ran along one wall, the water humming softly. A katana sat on display above the fireplace, a weapon he’d had never used.

Kazuo himself lounged on a leather couch, dressed like a man who wanted you to know how much money he had. Loose silk shirt, gold chain, sleeves rolled up to show tattoos he didn’t earn. His bodyguards flanked the room, silent and waiting.

I stepped inside, slow, taking in the scene.

“You came,” Kazuo said, grinning, swirling his whiskey. “That means you’re either desperate or stupid.”

I smiled back. “That makes two of us.”

His grin twitched, but he kept it.

I walked toward the couch, hands in my pockets. “Let’s cut the shit. My family’s networks have been getting hit. Precise, deep. Not some street hacker looking for ransom. This is personal.” I tilted my head. “That means it’s either you or someone under you.”

Kazuo scoffed, setting his drink down with a soft clink. “You think I have time for your family drama?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The Su’s were ghosts in this city until you started making noise. Maybe someone finally decided to put you back in the ground.”

“That a confession?”

“It’s a reality check. You’re not special, Trevor. You’re a relic from a family that doesn’t matter anymore. You walk in here like you’re still royalty, butthis.” He gestured around the penthouse. “This city belongs to me now.”

I exhaled through my nose, nodding. Then I hit him.

A clean, sharp punch that snapped his head back and sent his glass tumbling off the table and shattering across the floor.The bodyguards moved, but I had a blade out before they took a step.

Kazuo coughed, touching his split lip, staring at the blood on his fingers like it was the first time he’d seen his own. “Kuso yaro!”

I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against the couch, pressing the tip of my knife against his throat. His breath hitched.

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