Didn’t need to.
The truth had been screaming at me for months—through inconsistencies, through too-perfect timing, through reports that never quite sat right.
I had simply chosen to ignore it.
My mind drifted—dragged back, unwilling.
Violet’s first visit after the wedding.
The way she had stumbled into my study.
Clutching her side.
Tears streaming down her face, bleeding, as she cried out Elena’s name again and again before finally passing out.
I could have checked the CCTV to know for certain—but I chose not to.
Because she had cried.
Because I believed what I wanted to believe.
I had punished Elena for it.
I could still hear my own voice that day.
Cold. Cruel.
Threatening to have her uterus removed—
The memory hit like a blade twisting deeper.
That single threat had driven Elena to try and escape.
All because I refused to see the truth.
My jaw tightened.
Violet would pay for every lie.
Every tear.
Every calculated move.
So would Ciro.
The thought settled into something colder than anger.
Something final.
I shifted my gaze.
And there he was.
Ciro.
Sweat glistening at his temple despite the hospital’s cold air.
His eyes darted between Renzo and me like a cornered animal searching for a way out.
