The DNA results no longer meant anything to me.
I made my decision months ago.
That child was mine, and I would raise him as my own—protect him, give him my name, my legacy... my everything.
But Elena was in the industrial cold room, the temperature set at -42°C—a place meant for traitors to suffer and die.
What if she had been telling the truth?
What if her water had really broken?
What if she was in labor... in there?
My pacing quickened, growing more frantic with each step.
She wasn’t just another recruit—she was my wife.
My thoughts were scattered, my chest aching unbearably.
From the moment I saw her in that dressing room, Elena had a profound effect on me, but my thirst for revenge for what her father did kept me from giving her the love she deserved.
After getting to know her better, watching her under my roof day after day, I realized how innocent she was at heart—too genuine, too unguarded to be capable of betrayal.
There was a quiet strength in her, a stubborn defiance that refused to break, even when everything was stacked against her.
And then there were the smaller things—the way her eyes softened when she thought no one was looking, the quiet kindness she showed without expecting anything in return, the fire in her spirit that drew me in before I even understood what was happening.
What possible reason would she have to steal my mother’s ring?
Money?
She had access to my accounts—millions at her disposal.
Escape?
She knew I’d hunt her down to the ends of the earth.
The Spanish?
They had already taken enough from her.
Violated her.
Broke her.
I’d seen it in her eyes.
Still saw it.
Even when she tried to hide it.
So what could they have promised her?
What could possibly outweigh everything she had here?
My jaw flexed.
The questions didn’t stop.
