He dragged my struggling body straight into the party hall.
There, he let out a crooked, ugly grin.
“I want to see,” he said, “who matters more in Ridley’s heart—his wife… or his mistress and his bastard.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Ridley spotted us.
His expression froze, horror flashing across his face.
Around us, his bodyguards clashed violently with the men Thiago had brought.
Without warning, Thiago yanked me forward and shoved me right in front of Ridley.
“Tell your men to stand down, Ridley,” he ordered, “or your pretty wife’s face gets a brand-new scar.”
He pulled out a knife and pressed the cold blade against my cheek.
A sharp sting split my skin as the tip sliced a fine, shallow line.
Ridley’s eyes went wide. “Let her go!” he roared. “Stop! All of you, stop right now!”
The hall fell into a heavy, ringing silence.
Every gaze was locked on us.
Thiago’s grin widened, his voice dripping with malice. The knife’s edge traced a slow path along my face.
“Oh, so you do care about Agnes. Right—if not for her, you wouldn’t have taken the Perlmans so easily, leaving us in ruins.”