By Tuesday morning, the weight of Marco’s threat pressed on me like a second skin. Every tick of the clock on my office wall was a countdown to Wednesday—his deadline.
Noon. Bring me what I want. Or your husband sees everything.
What he wanted wasn’t money. It wasn’t even me. It was worse—he wanted Jonathan’s secrets. Business files, inside knowledge of his deals, whispers of contracts not yet signed.
If I gave Marco what he demanded, I’d be betraying Jonathan. If I refused, Marco would destroy me.
I tried to work as if nothing was wrong, but my body betrayed me—my hands shook when I typed, I forgot names in meetings, and I jumped every time my phone buzzed. Every shadow outside my office glass felt like a pair of eyes. Was the rumor already spreading? Was Mrs. Romano already sharpenin
