Chapter 9: The Confession
Marcus closed the door behind me and poured himself another scotch. He didn't offer me one.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the couch like I was a dog.
I sat. Kept my head down. Kept my hands folded. Meek. Broken. Everything he wanted to see.
"So," he swirled his glass, watching me over the rim, "my little wife finally realized what she did."
"I was manipulated," I whispered. "Dante—he told me things, showed me things. I didn't know what was real."
Marcus scoffed. "Of course you didn't. You never were very smart, Sera. That's why I married you. Beautiful face, empty head." He took a long sip. "Easy to control."
The wire caught every word. Outside, Dante's team recorded everything.
"I want to come home," I said, injecting a tremor into my voice. "I'll tell the FBI I lied. I'll recant everything. Just—please. Take me back."
Marcus set his glass down and crossed to me. He crouched, gripping my chin, forcing my face up. His eyes were cold. Calculating.
"You think it's that simple?" His fingers tightened. "You almost destroyed me, Sera. Do you understand what that means?"
"I'm sorry," I breathed.
"Sorry isn't enough." He released my face and stood, pacing. "I've spent years building this empire. Years. And you nearly brought it all down because—what? You found some files? A stupid video?"
There it was. Acknowledgment.
I pressed further. "The video scared me, Marcus. I didn't understand—"
"Of course you didn't understand," he snapped. "That was business. Corsetti's brother was going to expose everything. The Volkovs would have had us all killed. I did what I had to do."
Confession. On tape. Clear as crystal.
But I needed more. I needed him to incriminate Vivian too.
"Was Vivian... was she part of it?" I asked, voice small.
Marcus laughed—a cruel, ugly sound. "Vivian? She's been in on it since day one. Who do you think helped me forge your signatures on those accounts? Who do you think distracted you every time I needed to take a meeting?" He was pacing faster now, energized by his own brilliance. "The gala was supposed to be our final move. One last transfer, and then—"
He stopped. Turned. Looked at me with sudden suspicion.
"Why are you asking me this?"
My heart rate spiked, but my expression didn't change. "I just... I need to understand. If I'm going to protect you, I need to know everything."
He narrowed his eyes. Took a step closer. Then another.
"Take off your jacket."
Ice flooded my veins. "What?"
"Your jacket. Take it off." His voice had gone flat. Dangerous.
I couldn't refuse without giving myself away. My fingers moved to the buttons, trying to think of an escape, trying to—
He didn't wait. He grabbed my lapel and ripped the jacket open.
The wire sat there against my skin, small and damning.
Time stopped.
Marcus's face contorted—rage, disbelief, betrayal all crashing together like a wave.
"You bitch," he snarled.
His hand closed around my throat.
I couldn't breathe. Stars exploded behind my eyes. His face loomed above me, twisted with hatred, every pretense of civility gone.
"You think you can take me down?" He squeezed tighter. "I already killed you once—"
The door exploded inward.
Dante's men swarmed in—three of them, guns drawn, moving with military precision. Marcus was ripped off me in an instant, slammed face-first into the wall.
And then Dante was there. Kneeling beside me on the floor, his hands cradling my face, his eyes wild with something I'd never seen in them before—fear.
"Sera. Sera, look at me."
I gasped, air rushing back into my lungs like fire. My throat burned. My vision swam.
But through the tears, I could see Marcus—pinned to the wall, blood running from his nose, screaming obscenities.
And I smiled.
"Did you get it?" I rasped.
Dante's jaw was tight enough to shatter. But his thumb traced my cheekbone gently, so gently.
"Every word," he said. "It's over."
---
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the couch like I was a dog.
I sat. Kept my head down. Kept my hands folded. Meek. Broken. Everything he wanted to see.
"So," he swirled his glass, watching me over the rim, "my little wife finally realized what she did."
"I was manipulated," I whispered. "Dante—he told me things, showed me things. I didn't know what was real."
Marcus scoffed. "Of course you didn't. You never were very smart, Sera. That's why I married you. Beautiful face, empty head." He took a long sip. "Easy to control."
The wire caught every word. Outside, Dante's team recorded everything.
"I want to come home," I said, injecting a tremor into my voice. "I'll tell the FBI I lied. I'll recant everything. Just—please. Take me back."
Marcus set his glass down and crossed to me. He crouched, gripping my chin, forcing my face up. His eyes were cold. Calculating.
"You think it's that simple?" His fingers tightened. "You almost destroyed me, Sera. Do you understand what that means?"
"I'm sorry," I breathed.
"Sorry isn't enough." He released my face and stood, pacing. "I've spent years building this empire. Years. And you nearly brought it all down because—what? You found some files? A stupid video?"
There it was. Acknowledgment.
I pressed further. "The video scared me, Marcus. I didn't understand—"
"Of course you didn't understand," he snapped. "That was business. Corsetti's brother was going to expose everything. The Volkovs would have had us all killed. I did what I had to do."
Confession. On tape. Clear as crystal.
But I needed more. I needed him to incriminate Vivian too.
"Was Vivian... was she part of it?" I asked, voice small.
Marcus laughed—a cruel, ugly sound. "Vivian? She's been in on it since day one. Who do you think helped me forge your signatures on those accounts? Who do you think distracted you every time I needed to take a meeting?" He was pacing faster now, energized by his own brilliance. "The gala was supposed to be our final move. One last transfer, and then—"
He stopped. Turned. Looked at me with sudden suspicion.
"Why are you asking me this?"
My heart rate spiked, but my expression didn't change. "I just... I need to understand. If I'm going to protect you, I need to know everything."
He narrowed his eyes. Took a step closer. Then another.
"Take off your jacket."
Ice flooded my veins. "What?"
"Your jacket. Take it off." His voice had gone flat. Dangerous.
I couldn't refuse without giving myself away. My fingers moved to the buttons, trying to think of an escape, trying to—
He didn't wait. He grabbed my lapel and ripped the jacket open.
The wire sat there against my skin, small and damning.
Time stopped.
Marcus's face contorted—rage, disbelief, betrayal all crashing together like a wave.
"You bitch," he snarled.
His hand closed around my throat.
I couldn't breathe. Stars exploded behind my eyes. His face loomed above me, twisted with hatred, every pretense of civility gone.
"You think you can take me down?" He squeezed tighter. "I already killed you once—"
The door exploded inward.
Dante's men swarmed in—three of them, guns drawn, moving with military precision. Marcus was ripped off me in an instant, slammed face-first into the wall.
And then Dante was there. Kneeling beside me on the floor, his hands cradling my face, his eyes wild with something I'd never seen in them before—fear.
"Sera. Sera, look at me."
I gasped, air rushing back into my lungs like fire. My throat burned. My vision swam.
But through the tears, I could see Marcus—pinned to the wall, blood running from his nose, screaming obscenities.
And I smiled.
"Did you get it?" I rasped.
Dante's jaw was tight enough to shatter. But his thumb traced my cheekbone gently, so gently.
"Every word," he said. "It's over."
---