“I was kidnapped,” I said, my voice hoarse. “They took me from my home. My mother... my best friend...” My voice cracked. “They killed them. They burned my house. And then they took me away because I was pregnant with the child of a man who belonged to another woman.”
Hera sucked in a sharp breath. “Who?”
I met her gaze, my fingers curling into fists. “Antonio Russo. Or as I once knew him, Paolo Santoro.”
The reaction was immediate. Hera stiffened, her eyes widening in shock. Before she could respond, a deep voice cut through the room.
“You know them? De Santis and Russos?”
I turned sharply, finding Hector standing in the doorway. He hadn’t left after all. He had been listening. His expression was unreadable, his presence dark and imposing.
I nodded slowly. “They took everything from me. And I want to make them pay.”
Hector studied me for a long moment, then stepped forward. “You're not the only one who has unfinished business with them.”
My chest tightened, but I met his gaze with unwavering determination. “What do you mean?”