Chapter 3 - The Mistress and the Wife

Vivian broke down completely when the guards hauled her toward the basement holding cells.

“I didn't do it!” she screamed, her designer heels clicking frantically against the marble floor. “Elena gave it to me! She asked me to hold her purse during the morning briefing! She set me up!”

The hallway froze.

Dante stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face Vivian. A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face.

Inside the medical suite, Roman’s voice cut through the glass partition, raspy and weak, but carrying the unmistakable weight of command.

“Bring her in.”

The guards dragged Vivian through the double doors and threw her onto the Persian rug at the foot of Roman’s bed. Roman was sitting up, an oxygen mask dangling from his neck, his face pale as chalk, but his eyes burning with a cold, terrifying fury.

“Repeat what you just said,” Roman rasped, his voice like grinding stones.

Vivian sobbed, pressing her hands into the carpet. “Elena! Your wife! She handed me her bag in the foyer this morning. She said her hands were full of legal documents. She told me to put it over my shoulder. I swear to God, Roman, I didn't know the inhaler was in there. I thought she was just being clumsy!”

Roman didn't flinch. He didn't look surprised. He looked like a man who had expected betrayal from the very beginning.

“Call my wife,” Roman said softly to Dante.

Dante didn't move. He stood by the door, his hands in his pockets, watching his brother with an unreadable expression. “Are you sure you want to open that door, brother? Elena comes from the Moreno family. Opening an investigation into her means war with the South Side.”

“Call her,” Roman repeated, his voice dropping an octave.

Before Dante could pull out his phone, the heavy oak doors swung open wide.

Elena Valente walked into the room.

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She looked like royalty stepping onto a battlefield. Silk emerald dress, diamond earrings that caught the harsh medical lights, and an expression of absolute, chilling calm.

“You're making a scene, Roman,” Elena said, her voice cutting through the tension like a scalpel. “And in front of the staff, too. How vulgar.”