He’s selling them.
I can barely process what I’m seeing before I hear something that shatters me.
“She’s the golden key,” he says, chuckling.
My breath hitches.
“You really married the VP’s daughter just for Titanis access?” one of the men asks, amused.
Reagan smiles like it’s a joke. “Of course I fucking did. Danica’s sweet, but come on. She was always just a pawn in heels. She opened the door, and now I run the whole damn castle. Pew!”
My legs buckle slightly, and I grip the shelf for balance. My husband… my husband just said that. About me. Like I’m some disposable tool.
And then he twists the knife deeper.
“Dulcie’s the one who deserves a throne,” he says, voice lowering. “Not Danica.”
Dulcie. My best friend. My only friend, if I’m being honest.
They’re in this together?
No. No. That can’t be right.
He laughs again, cruel and effortless. “Danica’s too soft, too trusting. She still fucking believes love is real. Idiot. That’s what makes her useful.”
My hands are shaking so bad the sonogram slips from my grip and lands softly on the floor behind a crate. Thank God no one hears it. But I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.