The year I became the most sought after crime documentary producer in the country, I married Rocco Thornton.

The Mafia Don of Black Pyramid. The president of Thornton Media Empire. The man I once believed would stand between me and every kind of darkness.

Six years later, he sat across from me and destroyed that belief with a single smile.

Without a word, Rocco slid his phone across the table. “Watch this.”

My hands shook as I took it. The moment the video played, my stomach dropped into something cold and violent.

My twenty two year-old brother appeared on screen, drugged and barely conscious. His body moved wrong, slow and unsteady, like the world had been stripped of him before he could understand it.

And then I saw him.

Arthur Snow.

Astrid Snow's older brother.

The same Arthur Snow whose name appeared hundreds of times inside the investigation I had spent the last eight months building.

The same Arthur Snow whose crimes were about to become the center of my biggest documentary.

My stomach lurched.

Arthur was raping my brother while the camera was carefully angled to erase violence and replace it with illusion.

My brother’s weak protests were barely audible. His body kept slipping under control that was not his own.

My fingers locked around the phone until pain shot through my hand. “Rocco! My brother was drugged, and that man was fucking damn raping him!"

“The video doesn’t show a crime,” he said flatly. “It shows consent. Two men having sex. That’s all people will see.”

Something in me snapped clean.

Then he smiled, slow and controlled. “You have two minutes.”

My chest rose sharply. “Two minutes for what?”

His gaze turned colder. “Give me the evience against Astrid’s brother crime, or this video goes public.”

Everything stopped.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Eight months of evidence connecting Arthur Snow to trafficking, bribery, rand multiple violent crimes. Enough evidence to destroy his reputation.Enough evidence to trigger criminal investigations. Enough evidence to collapse an empire. And Rocco wanted all of it.

They were using my brother as a leash.

I let out a harsh laugh, anger breaking through grief. “So this is it? You’re blackmailing me with my brother’s life?”

Rocco’s voice stayed even. “Choose correctly, Celeste.”

My voice rose, raw and furious. “My brother was raped by that man while he was drugged, and you’re sitting here negotiating like it’s business?”

A flicker of something passed through my chest, but I didn’t stop.

“He is not collateral,” I said, shaking now. “He is not expendable.”

Rocco didn’t answer that.

Instead, he placed a bank card on the table.

"Buy him a sports car. A penthouse. Whatever makes him happy."

"You're insane!"

"No," he replied, meeting my gaze without the slightest trace of emotion. "I'm practical."

"My brother's life is being destroyed."

"He'll survive and he'll get over it."

"He was raped by a man! Raped."

"Then tell him to be more careful next time."

Something inside me fractured. I stared at the man across from me.

Tears slipped down my cheeks and landed silently on the table between us. Rocco didn't reach for my hand. He didn't apologize. He didn't even look guilty.

He simply sat there waiting for my answer. As if my brother's suffering meant nothing. As if my pain meant nothing.

Back then, I was at the peak of my career.

Everyone in the crime documentary industry knew my name. People called me untouchable, cold, impossible to approach. Yet Rocco Thornton had been different.

He chased me for years. He waited patiently through every rejection and every excuse. Eventually, he had even gotten down on one knee and begged me to marry him.

A man like Rocco Thornton had actually knelt before me.

Even now, I could still hear his voice as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

"Celeste, I don't care how successful you become. I'll stand behind you for the rest of my life.

"You don't have to give me anything right now. I'll wait until you're ready."

"I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

"I'll only love you."

"You'll never have to doubt me."

For six years, I believed every word.

For six years, he treated me like I was the center of his universe. He spoiled me endlessly, protected me fiercely, and supported every dream I chased. Whenever I traveled to dangerous places to investigate criminal organizations and film documentaries, he insisted on driving me himself. When threats arrived at my doorstep, he stood between me and the people who wanted to silence me. When public opinion turned against me for exposing powerful criminals, he was always the first person to defend me.

"You're doing the right thing," he'd tell me. "Don't be afraid. I've got you."

Every time I heard those words, I felt safe.

I thought I was the luckiest woman alive. I thought I had found the one person who would never betray me.

God, how stupid was I?

Now Astrid stood on the opposite side of me.

Another crime documentary producer.

The woman Rocco couldn't stop protecting.

The woman he was willing to sacrifice my family for.

My brother had been drugged, manipulated, and lured into a trap. Someone had filmed him while he was vulnerable, then twisted the footage to make him look guilty. Astrid was helping bury the truth. Even worse, Rocco was helping her.

The same man who once encouraged me to expose criminals was now helping them escape accountability. The same man who once praised me for fighting for justice was now threatening my family in order to protect someone else.

I looked at him through blurred vision, my throat tightening with every breath.

"Rocco..." My voice shook uncontrollably. "If I don't give in, if I refuse... are you really going to destroy us?"

"THEN TRY ME."

The last fragile piece of my heart shattered.. The man who had once sworn to protect me was now the one holding the knife.

...

The first time I heard Astrid's name was a year ago.

We had both been invited to speak on a high-profile true crime documentary panel after a case involving an abused young girl captured national attention. While most people focused on evidence, accountability, and justice, Astrid spent the entire discussion talking about sympathy and compassion.

After the event ended, she cornered me backstage.

She looked genuinely upset.

"Celeste, don't you think you're too harsh?" she demanded.

I frowned. "Harsh?"

"The man is old. He's lonely! People make mistakes!"

For a moment, I honestly thought I had misheard her. "Mistakes?"

"Yes." She crossed her arms. "Can't you show some compassion? Do you really want him to spend the rest of his life suffering alone?"

I stared at her in disbelief.

A child had suffered.

A child! And Astrid's concern was whether the predator felt lonely.

That night, I told Rocco about the conversation. I expected him to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Instead, his expression darkened.

Pulling me into his arms, he wrapped one arm around my waist and pressed a kiss against my forehead.

"What an idiot," he muttered coldly. "Daring to upset my wife."

Then he looked down at me and asked, "Want me to handle her?"

I immediately shook my head. "No. It's not worth it."

At the time, I thought he was defending me. I thought he was angry on my behalf.

How ironic.

Six months later, Rocco personally hired Astrid and brought her into Thornton Empire.

I remember how confused I was. Even then, I trusted him completely.

"Honey," he said one evening while pulling me onto his lap, "we needed another producer anyway."

I frowned. "Why her?"

He chuckled softly. "She's interesting."

Interesting?

That was the word he used.

After that, Astrid's name started appearing everywhere. Astrid said this. Astrid thought that. Astrid recommended something. Astrid made him laugh. Astrid made him smile.

Of course I noticed. How could I not? But I never felt threatened. Why would I? Rocco loved me.

At least that was what I believed.

The man who once swore that if he ever betrayed me, he would gladly swallow ten thousand needles. The man who promised to spend his entire life protecting me.

Now he was willing to destroy my family just to keep Astrid happy.

My brother. My career. My reputation. And my life...

None of it mattered. Not compared to her.

The despair inside me became unbearable.

Slowly, I picked up the agreement Rocco had prepared. My hand trembled as I signed it page after page, line after line. With every signature, it felt as though I was burying another piece of myself.

When I finished writing the last word, I pushed the document across the table, stood and walked away.

I had barely stepped outside when my phone suddenly rang.

My father's name flashed across the screen.

The moment I answered, panicked sobs exploded through the speaker.

“Celeste, get to the hospital right now!”

He was crying so hard I could barely understand him. “Your brother—! Your brother tried to take his own life...”

The world around me fell silent.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

Then I ran.

I don't remember how I got to the hospital. The journey disappeared from my memory entirely. All I remember is bursting through the emergency room doors and seeing my father collapsed on the floor, clutching my little brother in his arms.

Blood stained his clothes, his trembling hands, and the white hospital floor beneath him.

“Please save my son,” my father begged the doctors, his voice cracking from despair. “Please... he's still warm. I stopped the bleeding as much as I could. There's still time. Please save him.”

Again and again, he lowered his head. Begging. Crying. Abandoning every ounce of pride he had left.

His hair was disheveled, his forehead red and swollen from repeatedly bowing and pleading. I had never seen my father like that.

Never.

Several doctors stood nearby with troubled expressions. Finally, one of them let out a weary sigh.

“We can't help right now.”

I froze. “What do you mean you can't help?”

The doctor looked away before answering. “President Thornton ordered all available emergency specialists to remain on standby.”

My heart sank. “For what?”

The hesitation in his eyes made the answer even worse.

“Miss Snow's cat is sick.”

For several seconds, I simply stared at him.

A cat?

My brother was dying! My brother was lying there covered in blood! And they were worried about a cat?

Rage exploded inside me. I rushed forward and grabbed the doctor's sleeve. “Doctor, please,” I pleaded, “Veterinarians exist for animals. You're doctors. You're supposed to save people. He's only twenty two years old. Are you really going to stand here and watch him die?”

The doctor gently pulled himself free, helplessness written across his face.

“Miss, please understand.”

“No, you understand!” I nearly screamed. “My brother needs help!”

The doctor's expression hardened. “Mr. Thornton personally gave the order,” he said quietly. “Miss Snow treasures that cat. If something happens to it, she'll be devastated. And if she's upset, all of us will suffer the consequences.”

The words struck me like a physical blow.

That was the reason.

My brother's life meant less than Astrid's feelings.

I chased after the doctors anyway, down the hallway, through every corridor— begging and crying.

Screaming for help until my throat felt raw but nobody stopped. Nobody turned around and nobody cared.

By the time I returned to the emergency room, everything was already over.

My father was still sitting on the floor, holding my brother in his arms. Only this time, my brother wasn't moving.

His body had already gone cold.

My father's grief-stricken cries echoed through the room, shattering what little remained of my heart.

Slowly, I dropped to my knees beside them and pain swallowed me whole.

I couldn't even force myself to look at my brother's face.

This was my fault, wasn't it?

If I had fought harder... If I hadn't married Rocco. If I hadn't trusted him. Would my brother still be alive?

I raised my hand and slapped myself multiple times.

“It's my fault,” I whispered through broken sobs. “It's all my fault! I killed him.”

My father caught my wrist before I could strike myself again.

My brother's blood still stained his hands. His eyes were swollen from crying, but something inside them had changed.

The grief remained but there was something else now.

Hatred— cold, unwavering hatred.

“Celeste...” he said hoarsely. “We're leaving.”

I stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“We're taking your brother and leaving this country.”

His jaw tightened. “I'll find someone who can help us.” He lowered his gaze to the son in his arms. When he looked up again, his eyes were red with pain. “Seven days. Give me seven days. We'll settle everything and leave. We'll never come back.”

I accompanied my father and my brother to the crematorium. The entire afternoon passed in a blur.

My father seemed to age ten years in a single day.

His back was bent. His shoulders slumped. The man who had always seemed invincible suddenly looked old.

So painfully old.

He sat in silence, holding the urn that contained my brother's ashes and the sight felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest.

Just then, my phone vibrated.

A message from Rocco.

My hands immediately turned cold.

“Within two hours, pick up Astrid's dress from the stylist and deliver it to the banquet hall. Astrid will send you the address.”

I stared at the screen.

My brother had just been cremated. Hs ashes were still warm. And Rocco wanted me to run errands for Astrid.

I wanted to block him. Delete him. Erase him from my life forever. But instead, I typed two simple words.

“No time.”

The reply arrived almost instantly.

A video appeared on my screen.

The same video showing my drugged little brother being forced abused and filmed while trapped in a carefully planned setup.

My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white.

The threat couldn't have been clearer.

Obey.

Or suffer.

My father saw the screen, and his expression darkened immediately.

“My son is already dead,” he said, his voice trembling with fury. “What else does he fucking want?!” He shot to his feet so abruptly that the chair nearly toppled over. “Does he want to destroy him even after death? Does he want to grind my son's memory into dust before he's satisfied?”

I quickly grabbed him. “Dad!”

He was shaking. Crying. Falling apart right in front of me.

Wrapping my arms around him, I cried with him. “Please don't,” I whispered. “Don't go to him. He isn't human anymore.”

My father covered his face as his shoulders trembled. I felt my heart breaking. I swallowed my pain and forced myself to think clearly.

“We only need seven days,” I said, holding him tighter. “Just seven more days. If Rocco notices something is wrong before then, he won't let us leave.”

My voice cracked. “So I'll go.”

For seven more days, I would endure. And then we'd disappear forever.

…

I arrived at the place Astrid sent, but something in me tightened the moment I saw it. The address was vague, almost careless, like it had been designed to mislead rather than guide. Still, I came. I had no other choice.

And then I saw him.

A man standing at the entrance like he owned the very space around him.

My steps slowed instinctively. My stomach dropped.

It was him— Arthur!

My fingers went numb.

He turned his head and saw me, and immediately smiled, as if I was not an interruption but an expected arrival. As if this moment had already been arranged long before I reached it.

He walked toward me boldly. “Hey, you’re Celeste, right?” he said, voice casual. “Astrid told me to wait here for you.”

I stared at him, my body locking in place.

“Why are you here?” My voice came out rough, strained.

He gave a short laugh, like I had asked something absurd.

“Astrid my belover sister invited me. Said I should experience this kind of thing. Broaden my world a little.” He tilted his head, still smiling. “And honestly, you’re late. I’ve been here a while.”

My nails dug into my palm until pain grounded me.

My brother’s face surfaced in my mind without warning and this man was standing in front of me like nothing had ever happened.

“Astrid is really kind. She said I should meet more people, see different circles.”

My throat tightened painfully.

“And her boyfriend? That big corporate guy from Thornton Empire. He’s loaded. Even got me this suit made.” He smoothed his sleeve then his eyes returned to me. “You should really learn from her. She knows how to choose people.”

My breathing turned shallow.

What is he talking about?

Then his smile changed, dimming into something colder.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” His voice dropped. “You’re from the same family as that messed up kid who couldn’t handle himself.”

Something inside me shattered.

There was no warning after that.

I grabbed the dress in my hands and threw it at him with everything I had.

“Don’t you dare talk about my brother!” My voice broke as I spoke. “Don’t you ever say his name.”

He barely shifted, but I saw it. That faint amusement in his eyes. And that was what broke whatever restraint I still had left.

“I swear I’ll kill you, you monster! Rapist!” I said, shaking.

Before I could move again, hands seized me from behind. Arms locked around mine. I struggled, kicked, fought, but the grip only tightened as they dragged me back.

Then I heard footsteps.

Rocco.

I turned my head and there he was, walking out with Astrid beside him. Arm in arm.

Astrid looked at me first, her expression composed and faintly irritated.

“Celeste,” she said coolly, “who gave you permission to attack my brother? Apologize now.”

“You want me to apologize?” I let out a broken laugh. “He drugged my brother. He abused him. He fucking destroyed his life!”

Astrid’s eyes sharpened immediately. “You can’t say that. There’s no ruling yet. That’s defamation.”

Defamation? Huh!

She turned slightly toward Rocco, her gaze softening as if she were asking permission from the world itself.

“What do you think we should do?” she asked gently. “I don’t want to be unfair.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then Rocco spoke. “Kneel.”

My breath stopped completely.

I stared at him. “What?”

He didn’t look at me. “Kneel and apologize.”

Something inside me cracked open, wide and irreversible.

“Rocco, are you serious?” My voice trembled violently. “You know what he is! You know what he did to my brother!”

A small motion from him. Barely anything but it was enough.

The next second, they forced me down.

Pain shot through my knees as they hit the ground. I tried to resist, but hands were already in my hair, forcing my head downward before slamming it into the ground multiple times.

The sound echoed through my skull like something breaking apart from the inside.

Warm blood blurred my vision. The world tilted, unstable, like I was slipping out of it entirely.

Above me, Astrid’s voice floated down, calm again, satisfied now, like the outcome had already been decided long before I arrived.

Only when she seemed content did Rocco raise his hand.

“Enough,” he said.

Just like that.

The pressure disappeared.

I collapsed forward onto the ground, my body shaking uncontrollably, blood mixing with dirt beneath me.

Then slowly, I stood on the broken ground of what used to be my life, blood dried against my skin, when Rocco finally walked toward me.

He squatted in front of me as if I were something still worth handling carefully, something that had not already been discarded. A white handkerchief rested in his hand, clean and out of place in the ruin between us.

“Celeste, I already told you this case is finished.” Rocco said softly.

I stared at him for a long moment.

My throat burned, but I forced the words out.

“You don’t get to say that to me,” I said, voice shaking. “You don’t get to call this finished when my brother is gone!”