The word tasted toxic.
Harris unfolded a document smoothly — as if he had rehearsed this moment.
He smiled.
Polished. Predatory. Professional.
“Ruslan mentioned,” Harris began casually, “that you’ve already prepared divorce papers.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“He only needs to sign.”
He tapped the stack of documents in his hand.
“Here’s the marriage contract.”
He held it up slightly.
“Pre-drafted. Legally structured. Clean.”
His smile widened slightly.
“Ruslan will sign the divorce papers you already prepared,” Harris said evenly. “That ends your marriage.”
He gestured toward the second document.
“You’ll sign this marriage agreement with me.” His gaze didn’t waver. “And we make everything official.”
My breathing became shallow.
The room tilted.
The arrogance. The coordination.
They had planned this.
Together.
“Is this some sick strategic alliance?” I snapped.
“Do you think I’m a piece of property — something to be transferred between powerful men? Bent to their will?”
My voice rose despite myself.
“Need I remind you that I’m an FBI agent?”
I took a step forward, fury burning through the shock.
“I won’t—”
Ruslan cut in softly.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, Elena?” His voice was low. Controlled. “For me to sign the divorce papers?”
His gaze never left mine.
“But don’t forget what I told you. It is only a matter of time before your father comes for you.” A beat. “You are the final piece he needs to unify the five mafia families in this city.”
