I could never have imagined such treachery.
Ciro’s back hit the wall behind him.
“You stood outside that freezing room,” I hissed, “whispering your perverse confession while she struggled to give birth alone at minus forty-two degrees.”
Silence crushed the room as I moved again, slow and predatory.
Ciro didn’t move forward. He didn’t fight.
He stepped back, yielding to the inevitable.
“And Violet...”
The name came out like something rotten on my tongue.
“I’ve always suspected her.”
Ciro tensed harder against the wall, shoulders pressed flat as though he could merge into it and disappear.
There was nowhere left for him to go.
No angle. No escape.
The realization hit me again—harder this time.
Elena hadn’t lied.
Not once.
Every word, every desperate plea... all true.
And I had refused to believe her.
Almost killed her for it.
Killed my own child.
Renzo’s voice cut through the sterile hum.
“And Violet never had any heart disease.”
The words landed cleanly.
Unflinching.
“She’s been lying. As you probably suspected.”
A cold pause.
“This hospital... it’s all compromised.”
His gaze flicked briefly toward the glass doors, then back to me.
“If you want real answers, use another facility. One that isn’t in Violet’s pocket.”
Silence followed.
I didn’t question him.
