Chapter 27
ELENA
Silence.
That was his answer.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t accuse further. Didn’t defend me.
He simply held the ring between his thumb and forefinger like it was something fragile—and something lethal at the same time.
A piece of the past he had guarded like a secret wound.
His eyes lifted to mine.
Dark. Unreadable.
“You kept asking me to believe you, to trust you—even once—but the situations were always impossible to trust, Elena,” he said quietly, each word precise.
“If we’d found it on your bed, you could’ve claimed someone planted it. In your wardrobe? Same excuse. But tucked in the most private part of your body—between your breasts? Come on. How about you grow a spine and tell me the truth... for once.”
“I didn’t put it there.” I said, my voice thin, strained under the pressure. “
But even as I said it, my eyes betrayed me.
They flicked.
Just once. To Violet.
She stood a few paces back, one hand resting beneath her swollen belly, the other loosely folded over it as if cradling something precious.
Her lips curved. Just slightly.
That satisfied, quiet smile.
The kind that didn’t belong in a moment like this.
Then my gaze shifted again.
To Ciro.
Stone-faced. Unmoving.
The same man who had claimed he saw me tuck the ring into my bra this morning.
A lie.
A clean one.
It had been set up.
And Vincenzo—
He would never see it.
His focus snapped back to me.
He stepped closer again, his voice dropping into something quieter.
“The only reasons someone steals a piece like this,” he said, raising the ring slightly between us, “are money... or leverage.”
“Sell it. Pocket millions. Disappear. Start a new life far from me.
“Or,” his voice tightened, “hand it to the Spanish as payment. A favor. A promise. Escape. A fortune. Maybe even your sister’s freedom from Ruslan Baranov’s cage.”
“I don’t know what they promised you during those weeks they held you,” he continued, voice sharpening. “And frankly, I don’t care.”
“This—” He raised the ring, the sapphire glinting in the dying light. “—this proves it. You’ve been working with them. You betrayed me. After everything.”
“I won’t send you away. I won’t divorce you. You remain my wife... until one of us stops breathing.”
“But betrayal has a price. And you? You’re about to pay it in full.”
He turned to Ciro.
“Take her to the industrial cold room.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
“Let her feel what happens to those who turn on the family.”
My chest caved in.
No.
No.
Not the cold room.
Not that.
Not now.
Not when—
A sudden, searing warmth spread between my legs.
Sharp. Unmistakable.
My breath caught in my throat.
“Oh—”
Liquid.
Warm. Fast.
My water had broken.
It soaked through my dress in an instant, trailing down my legs and pooling onto the stone beneath me.
Clear. Steady.
I gasped, hands flying to my stomach as my body stiffened in shock.
“Vincenzo—” My voice broke, rising in panic. “My water just broke.”
For a split second—
Silence.
Then—
“Guards!” Ciro barked.
Three men emerged from the shadows almost instantly, their movements sharp, trained.
No hesitation. No questions.
They closed in on me in seconds.
Rough hands gripped my arms.
Another pair seized my legs.
“No—wait!” I struggled instinctively, panic surging through me. “Let go—!”
But they didn’t.
They lifted me.
Like I weighed nothing.
“Vincenzo!” My voice cracked into a scream as I twisted in their grip, desperation clawing its way up my throat. “My water just broke! The baby’s coming—now!”
No response.
He didn’t turn.
Didn’t look at me.
His back remained rigid.
Unmoving.
“Please!” I cried, thrashing harder now. “I’m in labor! Don’t do this—please!”
My voice broke completely.
“You can’t lock me in there—not like this—not with your child inside me!”
For a moment—
Just a moment—
I thought he might turn.
But he didn’t.
“Lies,” he said flatly.
The word cut deeper than anything else.
“No woman’s water breaks at eight months.”
“I’m telling the truth! Look at my dress—it’s soaked!” I screamed, fighting against the men holding me. “I can feel him! The baby’s coming—any second!”
My voice shattered into desperation.
“Please—look at me!”
Still nothing.
“Look at the puddle! Look at me!”
My breathing turned ragged, panicked.
“I’m begging you—don’t let them do this!”
The men tightened their grip.
The world tilted.
And as they began to carry me away—
All I could hear was the echo of his final words hanging in the air—
And the silence where his belief should have been.
The guards didn’t slow.
They carried me away from the garden—away from the scent of jasmine and gardenias, away from the soft rustle of leaves, away from Violet’s smug, satisfied silence and Ciro’s cold obedience.
Away from Vincenzo.
My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might split my ribs.
“Vincenzo—you can’t let this happen! I am your wife!” I screamed, straining against their hold, my voice cracking.
“I’ll die in that cold room! I won’t survive! Our baby will die! Please—don’t punish me, or our innocent child, for something I didn’t do!”
My words echoed off the stone walls as they moved deeper into the estate.
Colder corridors.
Narrower passageways.
Every step felt like a descent into something worse.
“This is a setup! Violet set me up... can’t you see it?!” I screamed, my throat already raw. “You’re making a mistake—just listen to me!”
But no one answered.
No one even looked at me.
The guards moved with mechanical precision, boots striking the stone in steady, relentless rhythm as they carried me through a side corridor I’d never seen before.
The air changed.
Subtle at first.
Then unmistakable.
The warmth of the outside world faded with each step, replaced by something colder.
The walls closed in around us, lined with steel doors—heavy, industrial, like something that belonged in a facility meant to hold more than just people.
Something meant to break them.
My breath came faster.
My chest tightened.
“No—no—no...” My voice dropped into a desperate whisper as dread crept up my spine. “Please don’t take me any further... please...”
But they didn’t stop.
The temperature dropped again.
And again.
My wet dress clung to my thighs, the fabric already growing stiff against my skin, the dampness turning cold—too cold—far too fast.
We stopped in front of a heavy insulated door.
One guard shifted my weight slightly while another stepped forward, entering a code into a panel beside it.
Beep.
A pause.
Then—
A hiss.
The door unlocked.
And when it opened—
The air that rushed out nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.
Arctic.
Freezing.
Suffocating.
I gasped, my chest tightening instantly.
Inside was white.
Not the soft kind of white.
Not light. Not warmth.
Pure, clinical white.
Frost coated every visible surface.
The walls. The floor. Even the air itself felt heavy with cold.
A digital display on the wall glowed a harsh, unforgiving red:
-42°C.
“No...” The word slipped out of me, weak and trembling.
Panic surged.
I fought.
Really fought this time.
“Don’t—no—please!”
I struggled violently against them, my legs flailing despite the pain. “Don’t put me in here!”
One of my kicks connected, but it wasn’t enough.
“Please—I’m begging you!”
My voice broke into raw desperation.
“The baby—Vincenzo’s baby—he’s coming—I can feel him—he’s pressing down—I’ll freeze—I’ll lose him!”
For the first time—
There was hesitation.
One of the guards shifted slightly, his grip loosening just enough to suggest doubt.
Another muttered something under his breath.
Low. Uncertain. Almost human.
But they didn’t stop.
They carried me forward.
Careful. Reluctant.
As if trying not to hurt me.
As if trying not to make this worse than it already was.
But that didn’t change anything.
They were still doing it. And I was powerless to stop them.
My heart pounded as contractions began.
Sharp. Low. Painful.
They came without warning—tight waves that clenched through my abdomen and forced a strangled cry from my throat.
“Ah—!”
My body stiffened in their grip.
“No—no—no—” I gasped, panic rising again as another wave followed. “Not now—please—not now—”
The guards carried me across the threshold.
The cold hit harder.
Faster. Deeper.
I felt it immediately—like stepping into something that wanted to strip the warmth from my bones.
They lowered me—
Then set me down on the frost-covered floor just inside the room.
My knees nearly buckled on impact.
For a second—
Just a second—
I sat there, frozen in place.
Then instinct took over.
I lunged back toward the door.
“Don’t lock it—don’t leave me in here alone!”
My hands stretched toward the opening, desperate, shaking.
One of the guards caught my wrists.
Not roughly. But firmly.
Restraining.
Another moved toward the door.
“No—wait—please—!”
The door began to close.
Heavy. Immovable.
“No!” I cried, struggling harder as the first guard held me in place. “Don’t—!”
The seal shut with a pneumatic hiss.
A metallic clunk echoed through the room.
And then—
Silence.
Except for the low, constant hum of the refrigeration system.
The guards were gone, and I was alone; the cold didn’t creep in or ease around me—it struck all at once, violent, immediate, and utterly merciless.
My soaked dress turned stiff within seconds, the fabric freezing against my skin.
My breath hitched, coming out in thick white clouds that lingered in the air before freezing on my eyelashes.
My teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.
Hard. Fast.
Painful.
My jaw ached with every involuntary movement.
I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively, but it did nothing.
Nothing helped.
Nothing warmed me.
I forced myself to look up.
To take in my surroundings.
And then I saw them: frozen bodies, strewn across the room, each one still, lifeless.
My breath caught in my throat.
No.
No, no, no...
One man hung half-off a metal table, his arm stretched toward the door as if he’d tried to escape.