Chapter 2

I changed into the tailored suit I used to wear before becoming Mrs. Nell and arrived at the Nell family headquarters.

The office sat on the top floor of a financial district skyscraper. Every slab of marble beneath my feet held traces of the empire we had built together.

Seven years ago, this was nothing more than a shabby little agency. Now, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the most expensive view in all of Seattle.

As I pushed open the door, the laughter in the conference room halted abruptly.

Evelyn stood beside the long table, holding a velvet gift box, handing out Swiss handmade chocolates to each of the seated family officers.

She wore a perfectly tailored red dress, the color making her pale skin glow.

Her high ponytail was slicked tight, and her face wore the brazen smile of a girl who didn’t yet know fear.

“Madam.”

Antonio, the Chief Financial Officer, was the first to rise, nodding politely.

The others followed suit, standing one by one.

Only Evelyn was a beat too slow. Her smile froze, then twisted into something brighter—almost provocative.

“Miss Erika,” she said, stepping toward me in her heels and holding out the chocolate box. “It’s my birthday tonight. Mr. Nell said he’s treating everyone to dinner. On the company account. Would you… like to join us?”

I glanced down at her hand. Her nails were trimmed in clean French tips, her wrist adorned with a slim Cartier bracelet—last month’s “performance reward” from Charles.

I didn’t take the chocolate.

The air grew dangerously still.

A dozen men hardened by years on the streets now held their breath.

“My husband is throwing a birthday party for his mistress,” I said quietly, but clearly enough for every man in the room to hear.

“I’ll pass. I imagine some people wouldn’t enjoy themselves with the real wife present.”

Evelyn’s face went paper white.

“Who are you calling mistress?!” she shrieked, hurling the chocolate onto the table with a sharp thud. “There’s nothing inappropriate between me and Mr. Nell! He appreciates my abilities, he mentors me! How dare you accuse me like that?!”

The conference room door opened.

Charles walked in.

He had clearly caught the tail end of her outburst. His brows furrowed into a crease I knew too well—his usual expression when handling trouble.

“Erika,” he said, crossing the room to rest a hand on my shoulder. His tone hovered between placation and reprimand.

“Evelyn closed the deal with the Canadians last week. Fifteen percent over projections. The dinner’s on the company. A team incentive. Don’t overthink it.”

I felt the heat of his palm—a touch that once brought comfort. Now it only felt false.

He leaned in, voice low, meant for my ears alone.

“She’s leaving for Paris in a few days. Think of it as a farewell dinner. Do me this one favor, hmm?”

Do him a favor.

How ridiculous.

He paraded another woman in front of the entire family, made a spectacle of my humiliation—and now he wanted me to save face for him?

I turned to Evelyn.

She was biting her lip, eyes rimmed red, tears trembling on the edge. A pitiful sight.

Some of the younger men already looked uneasy.

“Innocent?” I repeated, stepping forward and brushing Charles’ hand off my shoulder.

My heels clicked sharply against the marble—each step tightening the silence.

I stopped inches from Evelyn, close enough to catch the cloying sweetness of her perfume.

“Innocent—like the night of my birthday, when you begged him to take you on the Ferris wheel and made sure to send me a photo afterward?”

My tone was calm, like reading off a ledger.

Evelyn’s eyes darted. “That was… that was Mr. Nell cheering me up! I was upset! And it was a public place!”

“Oh?”

I nodded.

“Then what about the thirteenth of last month? Two in the morning. You called him to your apartment, said your cramps were killing you. Had him boil brown sugar water and rub your stomach with the same hands that signed off countless life-or-death orders. Was that innocent too?”

Someone in the room gasped.

Not many knew about that.

Evelyn’s face flushed crimson, as if her blood might spill from her pores.

“I… I really was in pain! I don’t have any family in Seattle! Mr. Nell was just—”

“Just kind-hearted,” I finished for her, my gaze settling on the necklace around her throat.

A Graff diamond. It caught the light like shattered glass.

“That necklace. Market price: a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Innocent enough to accept that without question?”

“Erika! That was a reward for her performance!” Charles snapped.

“Performance?”

I turned to him, meeting his eyes.

“Which family rule says a closed deal earns a godfather’s handpicked diamond necklace worth six figures?”

“Last year, Antonio secured our Mexico route. Profits doubled. All he got was a five-hundred-thousand-dollar wire transfer.”

“What makes Evelyn’s ‘performance’ so exceptional?”

Antonio let out a quiet cough and lowered his head.

Charles had no answer. His jaw clenched, his face turning a stormy gray.

I looked back at Evelyn, whose legs now trembled under her dress.

My voice softened, tinged with something like pity.

“Evelyn, you’re still young. Maybe you haven’t learned this yet.”

“In our world, when a man gives you something expensive, it’s not because you’re ‘worth it’—but because you’re being priced.”

“That necklace, that apartment, every minute he spends with you—they all belong to the Nell family.”

“And as Mrs. Nell…”

I smiled at the color draining from her face.

“If I choose to, I can reclaim every last piece.”

I reached out, lightly tapping the diamond key resting on her collarbone. Cold to the touch.

“But,” I withdrew my hand and smiled faintly, “for a girl who uses youth and tears to tempt men, this money… consider it pocket change. My gift.”

I stepped back, sweeping my gaze across the room, catching every man’s shifting expression.

Finally, my eyes landed on Charles’ conflicted face.

I said, cold and clear, “When I stood beside him and built this empire, girls like you didn’t even qualify to stand outside the door.”

With that, I turned and walked toward the exit.

“Erika!”

Charles called from behind me, voice tight with anger, his footsteps closing in.

I didn’t turn back.

The moment my hand touched the doorknob—

“Mr. Nell…”

A pitiful cry cut through the air, followed by a thud and startled gasps.

I turned.

Evelyn had collapsed on the floor, pale as death.

Chaos erupted.

“Get the doctor! The family doctor!”

Someone shouted.

Charles rushed to her, gathering her into his arms, panic scrawled across his face like I’d never seen before.

He looked up at me. Gone was the helpless guilt.

Now, only cold, seething rage.

“Are you satisfied?”

He gritted the words like broken glass.

“If anything happens to her, Erika, I—”

“You what?”

I cut him off, standing by the door like I was watching a farcical play.

“Kill me, Charles? For a woman you’ve known barely three months, who cries ‘innocent’ while dragging your wife into public disgrace?”

His arms tightened around Evelyn. A vein pulsed in his temple.

The doctor arrived.

After a quick examination and makeshift treatment, Charles lifted Evelyn into his arms again and strode out, his steps fast and heavy under the weight of a dozen stares.

As he passed me, he paused.

“Go home,” he ordered, eyes fixed ahead.

“I’ll be staying at the downtown apartment. You’ll handle family affairs in the meantime.”

He didn’t say “Take care.” Didn’t say “Wait for me.”

Just “Go home.” Like scolding a child who didn’t know her place.

Then he vanished beyond the elevator doors with his “innocent” cradled in his arms.

Only a few key members remained in the conference room.

The tension was thick enough to drink.

Antonio approached me. The old Italian man had followed Charles for over a decade. His face was carved with deep lines.

He sighed, speaking low enough for just me to hear.

“Madam… you went too far today. The Don… men sometimes…”

“Antonio.”

I interrupted, eyes on the rain-drenched Seattle skyline outside the window.

“Do you remember seven years ago? The night of the old godfather’s funeral—the ambush? Who carried a bleeding Charles out of that pile of corpses, fought our way to the dock, and found the smuggler’s surgeon?”

Antonio froze. A flicker of reverence passed through his eyes.

“You did, madam. You were covered in blood, holding that Browning from Mr. Churchill. The barrel was searing hot.”

“Then you must remember what Charles said when he woke up?”

Antonio said nothing. But he remembered. We all did.

Charles had opened his eyes, grabbed my hand, and rasped—

“From this day on, Erika’s word is my word. Her life matters more than mine.”

I turned to the old man and smiled.

A bitter smile.

“You see, Antonio. When he made that vow, he meant it.”

“And when he forgot it… he truly forgot.”

I picked up my handbag and walked toward the elevator.

“Madam,” Antonio called after me, voice urgent.

“Where are you going? It’s… not safe out there.”

He meant well. The Don’s stance was unclear. I had publicly humiliated the “new favorite.” There were always those eager to curry favor.

“Don’t worry,” I said, pressing the button. The elevator doors opened.

“I’m going back to the estate. Also, send a message: starting tomorrow, all expenses over half a million dollars, and every weekly report on arms, smuggling, and casinos—send them directly to me at the estate.”

“The Don… needs rest.”

I stepped inside. The doors closed on Antonio’s anxious face.

The elevator descended.

I leaned against the cold metal wall, eyes shut.

On my wrist, the old scar—left by a steel beam when I carried Charles out of that hell—began to burn faintly.

Charles, you see—

If I could carry you out of hell,

I can carry you right back in.