Chapter 2 NICO'S POV

"You weren't supposed to tell her."

The guard didn't even try to defend himself.

Hands behind his back, chin lowered-like he already knew what was coming.

Maybe he did.

I stepped into the hallway.

"You opened the door before I gave the signal."

"She was leaving anyway," he muttered. "I figured-"

"You don't get paid to figure," I said. "You get paid to follow orders."

He nodded once. "Won't happen again."

"You're right. It won't."

I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to.

The fear in his eyes did the rest.

I walked past him, following the echo of her heels through the corridor.

"Juliette."

She didn't stop.

"Juliette," I repeated, louder.

She spun. "Is it true?"

I didn't answer.

"Did you frame my father?"

I stepped closer. Calm. Controlled.

"Would it change anything if I said no?"

"Yes."

I stared at her.

She was furious-

Beautiful in the way a wildfire is: dangerous, unpredictable, impossible to contain.

"Then no," I said.

She shoved me.

I caught her wrist before she could do it again.

"Your father ran guns through school districts. He fed intel to the cartel. He was a liability."

"So you took him out?"

"I did what had to be done."

"You had no right."

"Your father made a deal with the feds long before I touched a file."

Her eyes burned. "You're twisting this."

"No. I'm cleaning it up."

She tore her hand free.

"And I'm just another loose end in your little power play?"

"You're the only part of this I didn't plan," I said.

That stopped her.

Not for long, but long enough.

"I want out," she said.

I smiled.

"That's not how this works."

"Then I'll run."

"You'll be dead before morning."

"Then kill me now."

"I don't want you dead."

"Why not?" she shouted. "You've taken everything else!"

I stared at her. Then turned and walked into the next room.

She didn't follow at first.

But when she did, the air shifted.

The table was set.

Contracts lined up.

Rings gleaming in velvet boxes.

Her dress hung on the wall like a threat.

"This isn't a wedding," she said. "It's a funeral."

"You're not the one being buried."

Her laugh was hollow. "You think tying me to you fixes the mess your father left?"

"I think it ensures no one tries to take what's mine again."

She folded her arms. "You're insane."

"Maybe. But I'm also the one with the leverage."

"You think I'm scared of you?"

"You should be."

She stepped closer. Eyes locked. Unflinching.

"You don't scare me. You disgust me."

"Then stay disgusted. Just wear the dress and play the part."

She looked down at the table. At the rings.

The price of survival.

"Why do you want this marriage, really?"

"You're asking the wrong question."

She lifted her gaze. "What's the right one?"

"Why did I choose you?"

That made her pause.

I leaned in-just enough for her to feel the heat behind the words.

"You think this is politics. But I could've married a dozen daughters from a dozen families. I picked you."

She whispered, "Why?"

"Because you were raised in a house of monsters... and still came out with fire in your eyes."

"Don't romanticize me."

"I'm not," I said. "I'm warning you."

Her jaw clenched.

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know you hated every person you had to smile for. I know you planned your own escape. I know you took your mother's gun the night she left-and buried it under your bed like a secret."

Her breath caught.

I kept going.

"I know you didn't cry at your father's trial. I know you wanted someone to burn for what he did to your brother. And I know you look at me wondering whether I'm going to destroy you-or finally give you something to fight back with."

She swallowed hard.

"And what's that?"

"A reason."

She blinked. "I don't want anything from you."

"Then walk away," I said. "But if you stay, don't pretend it's just for him."

She stared at me like she wanted to slap me again.

But this time, she didn't move.

"Three days," she said.

"You'll stay longer."

"Don't bet on it."

"I already did."

She turned and walked out.

And this time, I let her.

Later that night, I met Matteo on the rooftop.

He was already smoking. Suit wrinkled. Hair a mess.

He only looked like that when he was worried.

"You think she's actually going to go through with it?" he asked.

"She will."

He exhaled, smoke curling into the dark.

"You're playing with fire."

"She's not the fire," I said. "She's the smoke. The warning."

"Don't start caring."

"I don't."

He looked at me.

"You sure about that?"

I didn't answer.

"She finds out what you're really planning," Matteo said, "she won't just walk. She'll take half your empire with her."

"She won't find out."

"You keep saying that."

I stared out over the city.

"Because I mean it."

He flicked the cigarette away.

"And if she does?"

"Then I'll put her back where I found her."

Matteo's voice dropped.

"And if you can't?"

I looked him in the eye.

"Then I'll burn the whole thing down."

Silence.

Then-

My phone buzzed.

Blocked number.

Text only.

They know.

I stared at the message.

Matteo leaned in. "What is it?"

I turned the screen.

His face drained of color. "Who sent that?"

"I don't know."

Another buzz.

Check your safe.

I was already moving.

Back through the penthouse. Down the hall. Into my office.

I opened the wall panel, twisted the lock, yanked the safe open.

Empty.

Everything-gone.

Files. Photos. Leverage.

The kind of insurance that kept me alive the last six months.

Matteo stepped up behind me.

"Holy hell."

"I know who took it."

He blinked. "Juliette?"

I reached up and pulled a velvet box off the shelf.

Not the ring.

Her mother's gun.

The one I told her I never found.

Beneath it, a note-scrawled in clean, sharp ink:

"I'm not yours. I never was."