“Then work faster.”
He lifted his shirt just enough for me to see the gun at his waist.
Not a threat.
A reminder.
Fear raced in tight circles, chewing through reason.I stared at the bank’s homepage until the numbers blurred.
An email flashed across the screen.
Stay calm.I’m coming to get you.
Hope.Terror.Relief—twisted so sharply I had to swallow to keep from reacting.
I stayed quiet.
Francesco liked his women silent.Afraid.
That part wasn’t an act.
I logged in with the username and password.When the authentication prompt hit, I reached into my purse and pulled out the prepaid phone.
His eyes sharpened.“Where did you get that?”
“Ray’s burner,” I said.“I need the five-digit authentication code.”
I closed the email window as he circled behind me.His presence crawled up my spine.
The account loaded.
Three million dollars.
Untouched.
“There it is,” he breathed.
“I don’t see a way around the passcode,” I said.
“Iwantmy money.”
“Maybe if I contact the bank as his wife—”
“I don’t have time,” he snapped.“I need itnow.”
Francesco removed my phone from his pocket, scrolling.His mouth curved slowly.
“A ransom,” he mused.“That’s faster.”
He wrapped an arm around my neck, pulled me tight, snapped a photo.Stars burst behind my eyes.
“I’ll send this to your boyfriend,” he said.“Three million.”
He paused.Looked at me.
“Five sounds better.”
He hit send.
