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She tried to retrieve the knife before she was discovered. I don’t know why this lie feels like the worst, but I want to know what her plans were. Had she decided to stab me while I was inside of her? Had she only failed because it fell beneath the bed?

My eyes burn as I watch the clip on repeat, studying the methodical way she moves. The absence of emotion on her face. In many ways, it feels like I’m looking at myself, and I don’t like what I see. Pain radiates down the center of my chest, and I curse at the image on the screen. I curse at her for making me a goddamned fool.

I slam the computer shut and throw my glass at the wall, shattering it to pieces. As I rise from the chair, I consider what I’ve sacrificed for her. I consider what she’s cost me, and then I consider changing my mind. It’s not too late to tell the Tribunal to find her another husband. She could be someone else’s problem.

Only, the thought of it boils my fucking blood. Fucking witch of a woman. She has her talons in me, and I can’t let her go. I can’t give her to someone else. I’ll never let anyone else touch her, but there’s one thing I know for certain after tonight.

I’ll never make the mistake of trusting her again.

The pilot’s voice comes over the speakers, welcoming us to New York. I unbuckle my belt and rise from my seat while Natalia does the same beside me. I can feel her gaze on me, but I refuse to look at her. Not right now.

We’ve spoken no more than three words this morning. I asked her if she was ready, and she replied with a nod. She could tell that I had shut down, and she didn’t try to make conversation during the flight. I kept to my papers, and she stared out the window, silent.

Now, Luca is here to deliver us to the Catholic church where the ceremonies in New York are performed for IVI. That ride is also silent. Natalia seems to be growing more concerned by the second, and I can’t even bring myself to look her in the eyes. I don’t know what I’ll find there, but I know I’m tired of the lies.

Logically, I’m aware that her circumstances made her desperate. I’ve asked myself again and again what I would have done had I been in her position. She doesn’t have the same options as me. She doesn’t have an army of guards at her disposal or a powerful network behind her, but that doesn’t change the fact that she didn’t trust me enough to talk to me about it. Instead, she would have rather bled me dry while I was inside of her.

The wound that reality leaves behind is still too fresh, and I’m too raw to be kind to her right now, even if that’s what she needs. She’s terrified, I’m sure, but so am I. Last night I gave her my assurances, and now I’m wondering how this sham of a marriage will ever fucking work. What’s going to become of us? Will she spend her days outside of the house, distracting herself from the realities of our life like my mother did while I drink myself into oblivion? When the temptations of a warm body become too much, but we can no longer stand to look at each other, then what? If she ever seeks comfort from another man, I’ll give him a bloody and violent end. She has to know that this is her life now. She can’t have me, but I won’t let her have anyone else either.

When Luca delivers us to the church, my tie feels like it’s choking me, and I exit the car without preamble.

“Take her to get ready,” I tell him.

I don’t look back at her. I can’t. I head inside to the space reserved for the groom, grabbing the first bottle of whiskey they stocked for me. There isn’t a need to bother with a glass. I bring it straight to my lips and chug, savoring the burn in my throat and the warmth in my stomach.

I collapse onto a chair, staring at nothing as I wait for the alcohol to numb me. It takes a few minutes before I feel anything, and it’s still not enough. She’s twisting me inside out, wreaking havoc on my nerves. I’m tempted to obliterate myself completely, but even after everything, I can’t do that to her.

“Sir?” Luca pokes his head through the door, his eyes drifting to the bottle of whiskey in my hands. “We’ll begin in thirty minutes. Would you like me to wait here with you?”

“That’s fine,” I tell him.

He enters, hands me a note from his pocket, and takes a seat in the chair opposite me. “Miss Cabrera asked me to give that to you.”

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