“She’s under my authority,” he said coldly. “If she’s crossed a line, it’s my responsibility to correct her.”
A humorless laugh slipped from my throat. “Correct me?” I said bitterly. “Tell me—what crime have I committed? In this life, in business, judgment comes after evidence. And yet you sentenced me without a single fact. Is this how you run your empire?”
His fists curled tighter. “There are no cameras in that hallway,” he snapped. “You knew that. You thought you’d get away with it.”
I stared at him, stunned by his certainty. “No cameras?” I scoffed. “Then on what basis are you so sure it was me?”
His eyes flashed. “Because Antonella wouldn’t lie. She’s not that kind of woman.”
“And I am?” My voice shook despite myself.
Seven years. Seven years of loyalty, of standing beside him through bloodshed, negotiations, and nights meant only for us. And yet, the moment Antonella’s tears appeared, every one of those years was erased. One accusation outweighed everything I had given him.
I saw then that nothing I said would matter.
I turned away. “Believe whatever story you want,” I said flatly.