She attacked the curvy nanny in front of everyone, then the mafia boss walked in and called her his wife

Gregory stared at the shattered glass at his feet, then back at Nora, his mind completely short-circuiting.

The woman laughing softly at something the Mayor had just said did not look like his ex-wife. The Nora he knew was submissive, constantly apologizing for taking up space, perpetually anxious about spilling wine on the rug. This woman carried herself with the lethal, effortless grace of royalty.

Panic, hot and sharp, pierced Gregory’s chest. Vanessa’s frantic phone call echoed in his ears. Nora had the access card. She had the ledgers. And she was standing next to a man who could erase Gregory from existence with a single phone call.

He needed to get her alone. He needed to manipulate her, to use the seven years of psychological control he had built to force her to hand over the drive.

Gregory waited until Luca was cornered by the Chief of Police and a prominent senator. Luca reluctantly let go of Nora’s hand, gesturing for two massive bodyguards to shadow her as she walked toward the bar to get a glass of sparkling water.

Gregory pushed his way through the crowd, his heart pounding.

“Nora,” Gregory said, stepping up behind her at the bar.

Nora didn't flinch. She slowly turned around, holding a crystal glass, her dark eyes entirely devoid of the fear he expected to see.

“Hello, Gregory,” she replied, her voice cool and perfectly level.

“What are you doing?” Gregory hissed, leaning in close, trying to look intimidating. “Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea who that man is? He’s a criminal, Nora! He’s a murderer!”

“And you’re a thief,” Nora countered smoothly, taking a slow sip of her water. “I suppose we all have our flaws.”

Gregory’s face turned an ugly shade of pale. “Vanessa told me you stole her access card. You need to give it back to me right now. You don't understand the people I’m dealing with. If they find out what I’ve done, they won't just kill me. They’ll kill you too.”

“The Volkov syndicate doesn't care about me,” Nora smiled, a chilling, vindictive expression. “They only care about the fourteen million dollars you skimmed off their laundering accounts over the last three years.”

“Keep your voice down!” Gregory panicked, looking around wildly to see if anyone had heard her. He grabbed her arm, his old, abusive instincts kicking in. “You listen to me, you stupid bitch—”