Page 110 of Capuleto

She hadn’t read it; if she had, I might not be alive right now.

Kalinka, be careful, the rat Aleksa followed me home, snuck in, and killed Basile.

We chased him and riddled him with bullets, but we lost him at an intersection because of a trailer. I don't know if he's alive or dead, so make sure you're safe and that he hasn’t told your husband anything. I'm continuing with our plans.

I ask for one last effort, soon you'll be rid of your pig of a husband. Everything will be ours. I'll be back in St. Petersburg soon and you’ll be the new V vor zakone of the Costa del Sol. Don’t falter, we're going to make history.

I grabbed the phone and tossed it onto the bed, not wanting to destroy the evidence.

Didn’t she want proof of her guilt? Well, there it was, fresh out of the oven and provided by the one I thought was my best friend.

And here I was crucifying myself for letting him die. I should have listened to my father and put a bullet between his eyes the moment I met him. Because before dealing with Yuri and Nikita, I would have taken the revolver and blown my brains out for being such an idiot.

I would never trust anyone again, never again.

I took a quick shower, wanting to get back to the hospital to check on Aleksa's surgery.

I called Piero before getting in the shower and asked him to come to the house to guard my wife. I left very clear instructions. It didn’t matter if Nikita screamed, kicked, or begged. He couldn’t open the door for her.

As soon as he arrived, I asked about Andrey. He told me he hadn’t shown up at my men's house. I asked him to call and give the order to subdue him and take him to one of our hideouts as soon as he appeared.

If Piero had questions, he didn’t ask them, just nodded and carried out the order.

I couldn’t allow the Russian to get near my wife, no one would except me or Ana María, whom I would instruct in the morning.

I needed to talk to my father; that was going to be the hardest part. No one likes to admit their mistakes, especially when they’re so monumental and have jeopardized your entire family.

I burned with the pain of betrayal, feeling empty, like a forest deforested and ravaged by the fiercest fire. When I thought my wife wasn’t born to be a matchstick but a bonfire, I hadn’t measured the consequences.

The only thing I could do now was think about how to end all the damned Korolevs.

44

Water

Three days had passed.

Three days since Romeo locked me in his room.

Three days cut off from everything and everyone.

Three days in which I only received his visits at main meals, the same meals that kept me fed, or when I was taken to the bathroom to do my business in front of him, my husband, my jailer.

The number three became one if referring to how I bathed in the shower. I remained bound, and he scrubbed the soap on me without any delicacy, saying he didn’t want his room stinking from my odor.

He refused to treat my wound, just as he refused to listen to my side of the story, no matter how much I tried.

Contempt and indifference had turned him into a granite statue standing in front of me. There was no trace of the love or passion that had once filled his gaze. His dark eyes were a muddy pit in which I drowned.

I tried to kick him, scream at him, spit at him. Anything to get his attention. The response to all my acts was the same: impassivity.

I felt frustrated, especially when that stony silence came as a response.

By the second day, I started feeling unwell. I told him, I asked for clothes and a paracetamol. The response was the same. Nothing.

I didn’t know what time it was; I tracked the days by the meals and the light coming through the window.

I shivered from the cold. My head ached, and nightmares had taken over my nights.