Chapter 3 - The Bride’s Ultimatum
Elena looked at the spilled diamonds on the floor, then up at Roman’s expressionless face. There was no terror in her eyes—only a cold, calculating defiance that transformed her from a blushing bride into a hardened criminal.
"So," Elena said, her voice dropping all pretense of sweetness. She stepped over Julian’s dropped velvet pouch as if it were nothing more than litter. "Your little spy solved the mystery. Aren't you clever, Roman?"
The guards instinctively moved to block her, but Roman raised a single hand, signaling them to stay back. He turned to face his bride, his gray eyes piercing through her like shards of ice.
"Why, Elena?" Roman asked. His voice was dangerously quiet. "The O’Neill syndicate offered you what? A cut of my empire after I was dead? You were marrying the most powerful man in Chicago. You would have had everything."
"Everything?" Elena laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that echoed off the stone walls. "I would have been a prisoner in a gilded cage! You don't love me, Roman. You love your power, your empire, your rules. I was just another trophy to hang on your wall. And the moment I stepped out of line, you would have disposed of me just like you dispose of everyone else."
"So you decided to murder me on our wedding day," Roman stated, his tone flat.
"I didn't want to kill you," Elena corrected smoothly, stepping closer until she was standing right under the towering shadow of her husband. "Just incapacitate you long enough for the O’Neill faction to execute a corporate takeover of Sokolov Enterprises. Once you were out of the picture, I would have inherited fifty percent of your holdings under our pre-nuptial agreement. I would have been a queen, Roman. A real queen."
She glanced sideways at Sarah and Maya, her lips curling in disgust. "And as for these peasants... they were supposed to take the fall. The staff always gets blamed when things go wrong in a house like this. It was poetic, really."
Sarah gasped, clutching Maya tighter to her chest.
"You planned to frame us and let us take the death penalty for murder," Sarah whispered, horror dawning in her eyes.
"Of course," Elena smiled brightly, as if discussing the weather. "Poor maids don't get lawyers. They get electric chairs."
She reached behind her back, her fingers slipping inside the hidden pocket of her silk crinoline. Before Viktor could react, a small, black-steel Walther PPK pistol emerged from the folds of her wedding gown. She jammed the barrel directly against Roman’s chest.
May you like
The entire corridor held its breath.
"Don't move, Roman," Elena hissed, her eyes wild and desperate now that her facade had completely shattered. "Drop the gun, Viktor! Or I swear to God I will blow a hole straight through your boss's heart right here in front of everyone!"
