Page 147 of Capuleto

"Because women like us can see beyond. We understand that it's not enough to blow heads to gain territory. What's important is forging alliances that allow you to keep your kingdom, and that can only be achieved by making deals with the right people."

"And you think you're the right person?"

"I am a woman of my word, which is more than I can say about my brother. I only need to look you in the eyes to sense that we speak the same language. I want to negotiate, I want us to reach an agreement, I want you to count on me to prove to your father that you have everything he needs, and I want you to help me prove to my husband that he's wrong about me. The competition between women is the greatest triumph for a world dominated by men."

She exhaled and sat down in the chair next to me. I knew I wasn't wrong about Cheng, and if I could find the right key, we could join forces.

"Talk, I'm listening. For now, that's all I can offer you."

"Let's talk."

61

Bought

Ilooked at Irene with all the contempt in the world.

She was standing on her tiptoes, with her soles punished, her face contorted in horror and tears, and her lips sewn shut.

Andrey had stitched them together after the redhead said she had nothing to say. The stench made me wrinkle my nose. She had soiled herself. The Russian showed no mercy towards her, just as I had asked.

Andrey had stitched her lips together after the redhead claimed she had nothing to say. The stench made me wrinkle my nose. She had soiled herself. The Russian showed no mercy towards her, just as I had asked.

In my hands hung the suit, shoes, and blonde wig that appeared in the images Segarra had given me. The first thing I did was pull out a knife and cut the black thread stitches, not caring about the pain it might cause her. The pain she had caused us was much deeper and lasted longer.

Irene screamed. The small filaments stood out on her marred flesh. I took two steps back, held up the clothes, and threw the shoes and wig at her feet.

"What the fuck is this?!" I howled.

"Clothes?" she replied.

"Do you take me for an idiot? This is the outfit from the images I showed you, the ones where you suggested the woman was Nikita, and it turns out they were in your fucking closet."

"That's a lie! Those clothes aren't mine! Someone must have put them there!"

As if I would believe that nonsense. I started a tug-of-war to get her confession. She swore and swore that they weren't hers, that someone had planted them in her apartment, and that she was never there on the day of the transaction.

Her alibi was pathetic. The sale happened on a Saturday when she wasn't working. I didn't see her that weekend, and Irene claimed she spent it at Yuri's place. Very convenient.

After my conversation with Jelena the previous night, I asked Piero to search my ex-lover's apartment. He found the outfit in a bag, hidden in a corner of the closet, buried under a pile of shoe boxes.

That revelation made a tingle settle in my gut. What if my mother-in-law was right? It wouldn't be surprising after all the lies Irene had wrapped me in.

My instructions to my man were clear. I needed confirmation. If those clothes were in the apartment, I wanted them, along with any other evidence that could lead us to Yuri.

In my hands lay the evidence. I was done believing the words of this blatant liar.

The night Nikita disappeared, my father and I reviewed the videos and audios Andrey had provided, scrutinizing every detail and noting everything to miss nothing.

I admit my heart tightened when I heard Irene accuse Yuri of my wife falling in love with me. He, as expected, refused to believe it, arguing that it was all an act, that she didn't love me, but something in the depths of my heart told me he was wrong.

My father gave me a sidelong glance. I held my ground, not wanting him to criticize me for still loving my wife. Perhaps that small spark of hope refusing to be extinguished was what kept my faith oscillating, that the woman carrying my child felt a fraction of the whirlwind I was engulfed in.

It hurt too much. The betrayal, the lack of a future with her. I needed to harbor a tiny option within me to keep going. I had gone over every moment with her. Her glances, our fights, those fiery kisses that turned everything before her arrival to ashes.

Nothing and no one compared to Nikita Koroleva, and admitting it filled me with anguish.

What if her arrival in my life had turned me into a weak, insecure creature? I couldn't allow that; a future capo couldn't harbor indecision or doubts, and now I had all of them.