Chapter 26 #2
“You want to know why I can’t let you keep this child?
Because when your baby starts to resemble him—eyes, jaw, mouth—Vincenzo will see it.
He’ll question it. And if he finds out I’ve been behind the false DNA results.
.. everything I’ve done could be ruined.
I won’t allow it. So, Elena, one last time.
.. terminate the pregnancy, and you live. ”
Something inside me snapped.
Rage surged—hot, blinding, uncontrollable.
I glanced down at her stomach—large, stretched tight, so close to mine it felt almost obscene—and then lifted my gaze back to her face.
“The only reason you’re still conscious is because you’re carrying a child. Say one more word about terminating mine, and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”
“And if you have any more tricks up your sleeve—especially after getting this close to me,” I said, my voice dropping slightly, “you’d do well to reconsider them.”
Violet’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were measuring me again—testing the edges of my resolve, searching for cracks she could exploit.
For a heartbeat, she didn’t move.
Then—deliberately—
Her lips curved.
Not in fear. Not in submission.
But in something far darker.
Almost... mocking.
Then, without warning, she moved.
Sudden. Unpredictable.
She lurched forward in a full-bodied collapse, like a tree being felled.
A performance.
Instinct took over before thought could follow.
I stepped forward immediately, arms snapping up to catch her, hands gripping her shoulders to steady her weight before she could hit the ground.
“—Violet!”
Her body pressed into mine, heavy and unbalanced.
Something sharp brushed against my chest.
A sting.
Quick. Faint.
My brows furrowed—but I didn’t let go.
A fingernail? A pin?
I ignored it.
Focused instead on keeping her upright.
Her breath hitched.
She gasped, clutching at me.
I helped her to her feet—firmly—and then pulled back abruptly, breaking contact.
“If I hadn’t caught you,” I said, my voice low and controlled, “you would’ve landed belly-first on that stone.”
I gestured sharply toward the ground between us.
“You could’ve killed your own child.”
My eyes locked onto hers.
Unwavering.
“Is that how far you’re willing to go—to stage another accident and blame me again?” I asked, my voice sharp.
Violet straightened slowly.
Unhurried.
Like nothing had happened.
Like she hadn’t just tried to turn gravity into a weapon.
She smoothed her dress over her stomach with deliberate care, her movements calm—almost graceful.
Her eyes lifted to mine.
And there—
In that look—
Was something darker than anger.
Something satisfied.
“You’re stronger than I expected,” she murmured. “But strength won’t save you forever.”
“If you make one more stupid attempt to fall,” I said quietly, my voice steady, controlled—, “I will let you hit the ground.”
Her breath hitched.
Violet took another step back.
Her face had gone pale beneath the carefully applied makeup, the color draining from her features as if the ground beneath her was no longer stable.
“Since you refuse to do as I’ve asked, don’t blame me for the misfortune that’s about to befall you.”
She kept moving backward.
Each step calculated.
Her eyes darted briefly toward the house, then back to me, as if measuring distance.
Planning her next move.
I didn’t follow.
Didn’t advance.
I stayed where I was, arms still crossed over my stomach, watching her carefully.
Like one watches a snake.
A snake that had already struck once—and would strike again if given the chance.
What now?
Another performance?
Another staged collapse?
Another attempt to twist reality until I was the one paying the price?
My eyes narrowed slightly.
I was ready.
But then—
I heard it.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Rapid. Approaching fast.
Gravel crunched sharply under deliberate, forceful strides.
I turned.
Vincenzo.
He was walking toward us like a storm given form—his coat flaring open with each step, his posture rigid, his presence overwhelming.
Behind him—
Ciro and Renzo.
Half-jogging to keep pace, their expressions tense, alert.
Vincenzo’s eyes locked onto mine immediately.
Sharp. Intense.
Something in his gaze made my stomach drop slightly.
“Elena.”
My name came out as a bark.
Commanding. Demanding.
He stopped just a few feet away.
Close enough that I could feel the weight of his presence pressing into the space between us.
“Is it true,” he said, his voice tight, but edged with something I couldn’t quite place. “that you took my heirloom ring?”
I blinked.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His jaw tightened.
“My mother’s ring.”
The words came out raw.
Like the mention of it physically hurt him.
“The only thing I have left that still feels like her.”
Silence fell.
He dragged in a breath, his grip tightening at his sides.
“For seven months,” he continued, his voice lower now, rougher, “I’ve torn this place apart looking for it.”
My confusion deepened.
“I thought one of my own men sold it to the Spanish—everyone knows what that piece means to me.”
His gaze sharpened.
Focused. Accusing.
“Then Ciro tells me this morning...”
His voice dipped slightly.
“...he saw you tucking it into your bra while you were out walking the grounds.”
The world seemed to still.
For a moment—
I couldn’t even process what he had just said.
My mouth went dry.
“What?”
The word came out soft.
Confused. Genuine.
“I didn’t even know you had an heirloom ring.”
My brows furrowed as I tried to make sense of it.
“I didn’t know anything that belonged to your mother still existed in this house.”
A beat.
“And why the hell would I steal from you?”
My voice sharpened slightly now, frustration creeping in.
“You’ve given me access to your accounts, your cars, your entire damn wardrobe.”
I gestured faintly toward the house.
“What possible reason would I have to take some sentimental trinket?”
Silence stretched between us.
Heavy. Tense.
I spun toward Ciro, disbelief sharpening my tone until it cut clean through the air.
“You saw me put a ring in my brassiere?” My voice rose, edged with incredulity. “Where exactly? Because I sure as hell don’t remember doing anything of the kind.”
My gaze locked onto his.
Unblinking.
“You’ve had eyes on me for months—I get it.” A tight breath. “But if you think you saw that, you’re either mistaken...”
A beat.
“...or lying.”
The accusation hung there.
Heavy. Pointed.
Ciro’s expression didn’t change immediately, but something in his jaw tightened.
He cleared his throat, posture stiffening in that controlled, military way of his.
And then, his eyes shifted.
Past me.
To Renzo.
“Use the metal detector,” Ciro said flatly. “Sweep her.”
The order landed like a slap.
Renzo’s jaw clenched instantly.
His hand tightened around the device he was already holding—a sleek, wand-shaped detector, matte black with a small digital screen and a thin coil at the tip.
The kind used in high-security screenings, except heavier.
More deliberate. More intrusive.
Renzo didn’t move.
“Boss, Elena wouldn’t steal your mother’s ring,” Renzo said, his tone firm but controlled. “Let’s not humiliate her over this.”
Ciro’s gaze hardened.
“Renzo.”
A sharp warning.
“Use the metal detector on her—now.”
Renzo’s shoulders tensed.
“No. I refuse to embarrass the boss’s pregnant wife over your bullshit claim,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly.
The air snapped tighter.
Violet’s voice slipped into the moment like a blade wrapped in silk.
Soft. Trembling.
Perfectly timed.
“Unless, of course, you’re helping her hide the ring, Renzo,” she said, her tone carefully innocent, “I fail to see why you can’t just run the detector over her.”
Her eyes flicked toward me.
Calculating.
“It’s a simple check.”
Renzo’s grip on the wand tightened, his knuckles whitening.
He looked at Vincenzo.
Waiting.
The only person in this circle whose word actually mattered.
Vincenzo exhaled sharply through his nose.
Frustration. Control.
Barely contained.
“Renzo,” Vincenzo said, voice low and final, “do it.”
The order hit like a hammer.
Renzo stared at the ground for a long moment.
Jaw working.
Conflict written plainly across his face.
Then—
Slowly—
He let the metal detector drop.
It clattered against the stone path with a sharp, echoing sound.
“I won’t,” Renzo said, voice steady now, defiant. “It’s ridiculous.”
Ciro’s eyes narrowed.
Cold. Displeased.
“What the hell has gotten into you, Renzo? How dare you defy the boss?”
Ciro bent, picked up the wand without breaking eye contact, and straightened again.
“If I find that ring on her,” Ciro added, his voice dropping into something darker, “you’ll be considered an accomplice.”
Renzo’s expression hardened—but he didn’t respond.
Didn’t back down.
Didn’t move.
Ciro stepped toward me.
Each step deliberate.
The wand hummed faintly in his hand as he raised it, beginning a careful sweep.
Shoulders. Arms. Torso.
When the device passed over my chest—
It erupted.
A sharp, high-pitched beep.
Immediate. Unmistakable.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
“What—”
I jerked back instinctively, a sharp breath catching in my throat.
But before I could take another step—
Ciro’s hand snapped out and gripped my upper arm.
Firm. Restraining.
“Don’t run,” he said quickly, his tone still controlled but edged with urgency. “There’s metal right there—inside your bra line.”
My stomach dropped.
My breath hitched.
Inside my bra—
There was nothing.
Nothing.
But the detector—
It was screaming.
Ciro glanced over his shoulder, looking directly at Vincenzo now.
“Should I retrieve it?”
The words landed like a spark in dry grass.
Vincenzo’s expression darkened immediately—something dangerous igniting behind his eyes.