The drive to the Brooklyn warehouse district was silent, heavy with a tension that felt like a physical weight. Eric's grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles were white. He didn't look at me. He didn't offer his hand.
"Put this on," he commanded, handing me a heavy black cloak once we reached the shadows of the rusted docks. "And don't make a sound. You wanted the truth? Here it is."
We moved like ghosts through a side entrance, navigating a labyrinth of damp corridors until we reached a cracked internal window overlooking the warehouse floor. Below us, bathed in harsh industrial light, was a sight that turned my blood to ice.
Daniel Whitmore IV—my "white knight"—was on his knees, trembling.
"Please, I did everything you asked!" Daniel's voice cracked, high and pathetic. "I sweet-talked Seraphina just like you said! I had her at the gate! She was going to come with me, but Moretti's dogs showed up and took her back!"
The man facing him was a mountain of scarred flesh—Volkov. He leaned in, his voice a low growl. "You were supposed to deliver her the night of the wedding. Do you have any idea how much a 'virgin bride' brings at auction? We lost millions because you couldn't control your own woman."
"I can still get her!" Daniel shrieked as Volkov's men grabbed his arms. "Just give me more time! We had a deal—I deliver her, you forgive my three-million-dollar gambling debt and pay me the two-million-dollar balance!"
"The debt is now five million," Volkov stated coldly. "And you have one week to pay. Or we start taking it out of your hide."
Daniel's screams echoed off the metal rafters as we retreated into the night.
The silence in the car on the way back wasn't peaceful—it was a ticking bomb. The moment we stepped inside the foyer of the estate, the explosion happened.
I turned to Eric, my eyes stinging with tears. "Eric, I'm so sorry. I almost believed him. I—"
"Is that why you did it?"
His voice was a jagged blade. He turned on me, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and agonizing pain.
"What?" I recoiled.
"The other night. In my bed." He stepped into my space, his presence overwhelming. "I thought... God, I was foolish enough to think you had finally accepted me. That you were choosing us." He let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh that sounded like breaking glass. "But you weren't, were you? You gave me your body because you thought you were leaving the next day with him. It was a parting gift, wasn't it? Or worse—a distraction to keep me complacent while you planned your escape to a man who was selling you to the highest bidder!"
"No, Eric, it wasn't like that—"
"I thought it was real!" he roared, slamming his hand against the stone wall beside my head. "I thought you were finally mine by choice. To find out you were planning to run to that... I thought your surrender was an 'I love you,' Seraphina. Instead, it feels like a transaction."
The raw hurt in his voice shattered me. He wasn't just the Mafia King in that moment; he was a man who had offered his heart and felt it stepped on.
"It wasn't a transaction," I whispered, reaching for him, but he flinched away. "I was confused, Eric. I was scared. But when I was in your arms, Daniel wasn't there. Only you were. I didn't give myself to you to say goodbye. I did it because I couldn't stop myself from wanting you."
He searched my face, his chest heaving, looking for any sign of another lie. Slowly, the murderous rage in his eyes flickered out, replaced by a weary, soul-deep longing.
"I don't want your pity, Seraphina. And I don't want you because you have nowhere else to go."
"I have nowhere else I want to go," I corrected, stepping firmly into his space and taking his hand. "I choose you. Not because the doors are locked. Not because Daniel is a monster. But because you are the only man who has ever truly fought for me—even when you were fighting against yourself."
He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. The tension finally snapped, and he pulled me into an embrace so tight I could feel his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Don't ever doubt me again," he murmured into my hair. "And don't ever think what we have is a game.
I couldn't help but cry. "Please forgive me; I feel so disappointed in myself for trusting Daniel again."
He carried me to bed, but not for passion. He simply held me, letting me cry out the last of my tears for the life I'd almost chosen. When morning came, I woke in his arms, and for the first time, I felt truly safe. I know who I am, the Mafia King Queen.
"Eric?" I whispered.
He murmured in response.
"I choose you. Not because I'm trapped. Because I want to."
His arms tightened around me, and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. "That's all I've ever wanted."