Petros continued.
“But if you want her back... there’s a way.”
He forced himself upright slightly — fighting through pain to deliver the message clearly.
“Simple terms.”
My eyes narrowed.
“You tender divorce papers.”
I didn’t react.
“Elena signs them — willingly or not. They didn’t specify.”
Petros hesitated.
“They said lawyers will handle authentication.”
He continued.
“You agree to leave the United States permanently. Never set foot on American soil again.”
My expression didn’t change.
“Once the divorce is filed. Once your plane is wheels-up for Greece. And once they confirm via surveillance that you’ve left...”
His voice grew heavier.
“They’ll release her.”
My silence stretched.
“Unharmed.”
The word felt deliberate.
Engineered to manipulate.
I let the quiet linger.
Then —
I laughed.
Cold. Humorless.
The sound bounced off the marble walls and made the threat feel even more insulting.
“They think they can dictate terms to me?”
Petros didn’t answer.
He knew better.
I turned my gaze back to him.
“What do you think, Petros?”
