He Looked Down on His Poor Ex—Never Knowing She Was Married to the Most Feared Mafia Boss

Thousands of miles away, in the quiet, frozen expanse of northern Alaska, the wind howled relentlessly against the corrugated tin walls of a small supply depot.

Trevor Hayes stood inside the dimly lit warehouse, wearing a bulky, grease-stained orange parka and heavy work boots. His hands, once soft and pristine from holding expensive pens and crystal glasses, were now rough, calloused, and cracked from the freezing cold.

He held a clipboard, manually tallying crates of industrial drill bits as heavy machinery hummed loudly in the background.

His gold watch was gone—sold weeks ago to pay off lingering personal debts before he was forced onto the transport plane. His slicked-back hair was messy and unkempt under a wool beanie.

A fellow worker, a massive burly man with a thick beard, clapped a heavy hand onto Trevor’s shoulder. “Hey, Hayes! Stop daydreaming! We got three more trucks coming in before the blizzard hits. Get moving!”

“Right... sorry,” Trevor muttered, his voice hoarse from the freezing air.

He picked up a heavy wooden crate, his muscles aching with exhaustion. As he carried it across the concrete floor, his foot caught on an uneven patch of ice, causing him to stumble.

He crashed onto his knees on the cold, hard ground, the wooden crate splintering open and scattering heavy metal parts across the floor.

Trevor sat on the icy concrete, breathing heavily, his breath blooming in thick white clouds in the freezing air. He looked down at his calloused, dirty hands.

In his mind, he saw the grand, sunlit marble floor of the Galleria. He saw the rhodium cufflinks sitting on black tissue paper. He saw Sadi standing tall, wrapped in cashmeres and diamonds, looking down at him not with hatred, but with absolute indifference.

He had kicked her down because he thought she was nothing.