The footage had destroyed my reputation, but it had damaged his too. It made him look like a man who would sleep with his enemy's wife. In the mafia world, that was a stain that didn't wash off easily.

He would want proof that he'd been set up.

And I had it.

My fingers trembled as I scrolled through my contacts. I'd memorized Alberto's number years ago, Tyron had made me memorize all his enemies' numbers in case I was ever kidnapped and needed to report information.

He never imagined I'd use it like this.

I stared at the number for a long moment.

This was it.

Once I made this call, there was no going back. I would be aligning myself with Tyron's greatest enemy. I'll become a traitor in truth, not just in accusation.

But what did I have to lose?

I pressed CALL.

It rang once, twice. Then a deep, smooth voice answered, "Barella."

"This is Morry Poltort," I said quietly. "Don't hang up."

Silence on the other end.

"I know what Tyron did," I continued. "I know how he framed us both. The footage was fake. The audio was spliced. I have proof."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I have a recording of Tyron and Hixia Moose admitting everything," I said. "How they planned it. How they edited the footage and how they used both of us."

"Send it to me."

"No," I said. "Not over any network Tyron might monitor. I need to meet you. Face to face."

"That's not how this works," Alberto said coldly. "You could be setting me up. Recording this call right now for Tyron."

"If I was working with Tyron, why would I be locked in a basement with a bounty on my head?" I asked.

"Your men are hunting me. Half a million, dead or alive. Does that sound like I'm his ally?"

"It sounds like theater," Alberto said. "Tyron is clever. This could be an elaborate trap."

"Then listen to this," I said.

I held the phone up and played thirty seconds. Tyron's voice filled the small basement, "The timestamps were the key. We recontextualized it. Made it look like she went to his penthouse."

"You framed your wife for adultery, Tyron. Just admit it."

I brought the phone back to my ear.

Silence. But it was a different kind of silence now. It felt heavy and dangerous.

"When did you record this?" Alberto asked, his voice low.

"This morning. Right before Tyron summoned me to his study. I heard them through the door."

"And they don't know you have it?"

"No one knows. Except you."

Another pause.

"What do you want?"

"Revenge," I said simply. "I want to destroy them both. Completely. Publicly. I want them to lose everything the way they made me lose everything."

"And what do you need from me?"

"Protection. Resources. Information about Tyron's operations, what files would hurt him most, which families would turn on him if they knew the truth. And when this is over, I want enough money to disappear."

"That's a lot to ask."

"I'm offering a lot in return," I said.

"I was Tyron's wife for five years. I know his codes. I know where he keeps his files. I can access his private server, his safe, his financial records. Everything you've been trying to get for years. I can hand you his entire empire."

"In exchange for revenge."

"In exchange for justice," I corrected. "There's a difference."

"Not to me," Alberto said. "But I like your style. How long do you need?"

"Two weeks," I said. "Maybe three. Enough time to access everything without raising suspicion. To copy files while playing the broken, compliant wife."

"And you'll stay there? In that basement? While gathering evidence?"

"I don't have a choice," I said. "If I run now, Tyron will know someone helped me. He'll change everything. Burn evidence. I need him to think I'm defeated."

"What about the bounty?" Alberto asked. "My men are looking for you."

"Call them off," I said. "Tell them you found me. Tell them whatever you need to tell them. Just give me time to do this."

"And if I don't? If I decide you're more valuable to me as leverage against Tyron?"

"Then that recording gets sent to every family in this city," I said coldly. "You'll both go down. So decide, Alberto. Do you want leverage, or do you want Tyron Poltort destroyed?"

The line went quiet for so long I thought he'd hung up.

"I'll call off my men. You have two weeks. After that, I'm coming to get you whether you're ready or not. And Morry?"

"Yes?"

"If you're playing me, if this is some scheme of Tyron's, I won't kill you quickly. I'll make sure you suffer in ways that make your current situation look like paradise."

"Understood," I said.

"Good. I'll send you a secure contact method within forty-eight hours. Watch for a food delivery with a red seal. Inside will be a phone. Don't use your current one again after tonight, Tyron's people are better at tracking than you think."

"How will you get a delivery to the basement?"

"I have my ways," Alberto said. "Mrs. Chen isn't the only person in that house who's tired of Tyron Poltort."

The line went dead.

I sat in the darkness, my heart pounding.

I had done it. I had made my alliance with the devil.

Now I just had to survive long enough to destroy the monsters who'd betrayed me.

I pulled up the recording one more time and listened to Hixia's laugh, to Tyron's cold dismissal of our five-year marriage.

"Tyron and Hixia…" I whispered to the empty basement, "I'll make sure you lose everything."

I tucked the phone back into my hidden pocket and lay down on the cot.

Tomorrow, I would be the perfect broken wife.

But in two weeks, I would burn their world to the ground.

And I would make them watch.

The food delivery arrived exactly forty-eight hours later.

I was scrubbing the kitchen floor when Mrs. Chen intercepted the delivery man at the back entrance. A large basket with a red wax seal sat on the counter.

"For the staff," the delivery man said loudly. "Compliments of the Rosewood Hotel."

Mrs. Chen sorted through pastries and bread while the guards watched, bored. At the bottom, she found a small box and walked directly to me.

"You missed a spot," she said, pressing the box into my palm. "The baseboards in the wine cellar. Where no one can hear you work."

I nodded and disappeared into the basement.

Inside the box was a sleek black phone and a note: Untraceable. Encrypted. Destroy your old one. - A.B.

I transferred the recording to the new phone, then crushed my old one under my heel. The new phone vibrated.

"Status?"

"Safe. Need access to Tyron's study tonight."

"Too soon."

"Not if I'm caught stealing food. They'll punish me, but I'll get access."

"You're cleverer than I expected."

"You're not the first man to underestimate me."

"What do you need?"

"A distraction. Midnight. Fifteen minutes."

"Consider it done."

.....

At 11:45 PM, I crept to the kitchen and deliberately knocked over plates.

A guard caught me with bread in my hands. "Stealing now?"

"Please," I gasped. "I'm so hungry."

He dragged me toward the stairs when an explosion rocked the west wing.

"West garage! The cars are on fire!"

Every guard ran toward the chaos.

I had my fifteen minutes.

I ran to Tyron's study and unlocked it with my key. In his private bathroom, I climbed onto the toilet and opened the air vent.

Inside was a fireproof box with a combination lock. My daughter's birthday, the daughter he'd wanted but never had.

The box opened.

Financial records. Names of politicians on his payroll. Evidence of assassinations and human trafficking. I photographed everything with trembling hands.

This could destroy Tyron completely.

Footsteps approached in the hallway.

"Mr. Poltort! The west garage-"

I shoved everything back, replaced the grate, and jumped down just as the study door opened.

I ran out of the bathroom, deliberately crashing into Tyron.

"Morry?" He grabbed my shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"I got lost," I gasped. "The explosion, everyone ran, I was scared-"

"Search her," Tyron ordered the guards.

They checked my pockets, my sleeves, my shoes.

But not my bra.

"Nothing, sir."

Tyron's eyes narrowed. "You're lying. Take her back to the basement. No food for three days."

Back in the basement, I pulled out the phone.

"Got it. Everything."

"Send it to me."

"Not yet. I need a dead man's switch. If something happens to me, this goes public."

"Smart. What else?"

I hesitated.

"I'm pregnant."

Long pause.

"Tyron's?"

"Yes. Six weeks. He doesn't know."

"Does that change things?"

"It makes it more important. I won't let my child grow up knowing their father destroyed me."

"Then we'll make sure he doesn't. Tomorrow, we plan phase two."

Outside my door, guards changed shifts.

"Three days with no food. She'll be dead before then. Especially in her condition."

"What condition?"

"Chen thinks she's pregnant. Throwing up every morning."

"Does Mr. Poltort know?"

"Not yet. But Miss Moose does. She told Chen to keep it quiet."

My blood froze.

I grabbed the phone.

"Change of plans. Hixia knows about the baby. We don't have two weeks."

"Tomorrow night. I'm coming to get you."

"Too risky."

"You're dead if you stay there. Do you understand?"

"I need one more thing. The real books from his desk. Without those, we can't prove the money trail. I'll get them."

"How?"

"Watch me."

I closed my eyes, pressing my hand to my stomach.

Tomorrow night, everything would change.

Either I would escape and begin my revenge, or I would die trying.

But I wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Hold on," I whispered. "Just hold on a little longer."

In the darkness, I smiled.

Let them think I was defeated.

Tomorrow night, they would learn the truth.

Morry Vaslus wasn't a victim anymore.

She was a weapon.

And she was about to go off.

The next day crawled by with agonizing slowness.

No food. No water. Just the cold concrete and my racing thoughts.

By evening, my stomach cramped with hunger. The baby needed nutrients. I needed strength for whatever Alberto had planned.

At 8 PM, the basement door opened.

Mrs. Chen stood there with a tray. Behind her, no guards.

"Five minutes," she whispered, setting down soup and bread. "Eat quickly."

"Why are you helping me?" I asked, my hands shaking as I grabbed the spoon.

"Because I knew your mother," Mrs. Chen said quietly. "Before she died, she made me promise to look after you if anything happened. I failed her once. Not again."

Tears stung my eyes. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Miss Moose is planning something for tomorrow. I heard her talking to Mr. Poltort about the wine cellar. The one that floods."

My chest tightened. The claustrophobia trap Hixia had suggested.

"When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. She's convinced him you need 'proper discipline.' He agreed."

Mrs. Chen pressed something into my hand. A small key.

"Service elevator. Goes straight to the garage. Use it tonight after midnight. There's a car waiting, black sedan, keys in the visor."

"Alberto sent you."

She nodded. "He pays better than Mr. Poltort. And he actually keeps his word."

She left, locking the door behind her.

I finished the soup, feeling strength return to my limbs. Then I waited, counting the seconds until midnight.

…

At 11:55 PM, I heard it.

Shouting from the main floor. Glass breaking. More chaos, another distraction.

I used Mrs. Chen's key on the basement door. It opened silently.

The hallway was empty. I ran to the service elevator, my bare feet silent on cold tile.

The elevator descended to the garage level. The doors opened.

And there he was.

Alberto Barella stood beside a black sedan, dressed in dark clothes, a gun holstered at his hip. He was taller than I remembered, broader through the shoulders. His dark eyes assessed me with the same intensity Tyron once had.

But different. He was sharper, more dangerous.

"Mrs. Poltort," he said.

"Vaslus," I corrected. "I'm not his wife anymore. Not in any way that matters."

Something flickered across Alberto's face. Approval, maybe.

"Can you walk?"

"I can run if I have to."

"Good. Because we have about three minutes before they realize the distraction upstairs is exactly that."

He opened the passenger door. I slid in, and he was behind the wheel in seconds.

The garage door was already open. He drove out smoothly, no screeching tires, nothing to draw attention.

We were two blocks away when my phone buzzed. The estate's alarm system, triggered.

"They know," I said.

"Let them know." Alberto's voice was calm. "By the time they figure out which direction we went, we'll be at my safehouse."

"Where?"

"The old Marino district. Tyron would never think to look there. He considers it beneath him."

We drove in silence for ten minutes. I kept glancing in the side mirror, expecting to see headlights following us.

Nothing.

"You're good at this," I said finally.

"I've been doing it longer than Tyron has," Alberto replied. "He inherited his empire. I built mine from nothing."

"Is that why you hate him?"

"I hate him because he's wasteful. Cruel without purpose. He destroys things for sport." Alberto's hands tightened on the wheel. "And because five years ago, he killed my sister."

I turned to look at him. "What?"

"She witnessed one of his deals going bad. Wrong place, wrong time. He had her eliminated to tie up loose ends. She was nineteen."

"I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. Tyron doesn't tell his wife about the bodies he buries."

The bitterness in his voice was raw.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

"Don't be sorry. Help me destroy him."

We pulled into an underground garage beneath an old apartment building. Alberto parked and came around to open my door.

"Can you make it upstairs?"

"Yes."

He led me to an elevator that required a keycard. We rode up to the eighth floor in silence.

The apartment was smaller than I expected. Clean, sparse, functional. A safehouse, not a home.

"Bathroom is through there," Alberto said, pointing. "There's clothes in the closet that should fit. Food in the kitchen. You're safe here."

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes."

I looked at him, really looked at him. This man who was supposed to be Tyron's greatest enemy. Who had every reason to use me as leverage or kill me outright.

Instead, he'd risked his men to save me.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "The truth."

Alberto met my eyes. "Because Tyron took someone I loved. And now I'm going to take everything he has. Starting with you."

"I'm not his anymore."

"No," Alberto agreed. "You're not."

The way he said it made something flutter in my chest. Not fear. Something else entirely.

"Get some rest, Morry," he said, softer now. "Tomorrow, we start planning. And I promise you, when we're done, Tyron Poltort won't have anything left to his name."

He turned to leave, but I caught his wrist.

"Thank you," I said. "For believing me. For helping me."

Alberto looked down at my hand on his wrist, then back at my face.

"Don't thank me yet," he said. "This is just the beginning."

But he didn't pull away.

And neither did I.