The same man who had claimed he saw me tuck the ring into my bra this morning.
A lie.
A clean one.
It had been set up.
And Vincenzo—
He would never see it.
His focus snapped back to me.
He stepped closer again, his voice dropping into something quieter.
“The only reasons someone steals a piece like this,” he said, raising the ring slightly between us, “are money... or leverage.”
“Sell it. Pocket millions. Disappear. Start a new life far from me.
“Or,” his voice tightened, “hand it to the Spanish as payment. A favor. A promise. Escape. A fortune. Maybe even your sister’s freedom from Ruslan Baranov’s cage.”
“I don’t know what they promised you during those weeks they held you,” he continued, voice sharpening. “And frankly, I don’t care.”
“This—” He raised the ring, the sapphire glinting in the dying light. “—this proves it. You’ve been working with them. You betrayed me. After everything.”
“I won’t send you away. I won’t divorce you. You remain my wife... until one of us stops breathing.”
“But betrayal has a price. And you? You’re about to pay it in full.”
He turned to Ciro.
“Take her to the industrial cold room.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
“Let her feel what happens to those who turn on the family.”
My chest caved in.
No.
No.
Not the cold room.
Not that.
Not now.
Not when—
A sudden, searing warmth spread between my legs.
Sharp. Unmistakable.
My breath caught in my throat.
“Oh—”
