The Mafia Boss Told Her to Take Off Her Husband’s Ring, but Her Answer Changed Who Owed Whom

Roman Vale rested his hand on the back of a leather armchair, watching me with quiet intrigue.

"Explain," Roman commanded softly.

"Miles offered you Harlow Restoration & Provenance," I said, crossing my arms. "He told you he owned the family legacy. But if you checked the corporate filing records instead of just taking his desperate word, you’d know his father left fifty-one percent of the voting shares directly to me."

Miles gasped on the floor. "Claire, shut up!"

"He owns forty-nine percent of non-voting equity," I continued, ignoring my husband entirely. "He cannot assign, sell, or transfer the firm’s assets without my signature. Which means the paper he signed with you is legally worthless."

Roman slowly turned his gaze toward Miles. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

"Is this true?" Roman asked softly.

"She’s lying!" Miles stammered, scrambling backward on his hands and knees. "We’re married! Marital assets are shared!"

"Not under our prenuptial agreement," I corrected smoothly. "The one your father made us sign to protect his company from a 'working-class girl.' Irony is a funny thing, isn't it, Miles?"

Roman let out a single, low laugh. It was a dark, dangerous sound.

"So," Roman said, stepping over Miles’s trembling legs and walking toward me. "Your husband borrowed three point eight million dollars from my organization on a fraudulent guarantee."

"Precisely," I said, refusing to back away as Roman stopped two feet from me.

"That leaves me with a problem," Roman murmured, towering over me. "Miles has no assets. His signature is garbage. And I am still out four million dollars."

"You aren't out four million," I said, looking him straight in his gray eyes. "You're out three point eight. And if you let me walk out of here tonight, I can get you every penny back."