Marco’s hands shook with rage as he flipped through the papers.
Photographs. Emails. Evidence.
All of it—Carmen. Carmen meeting with his enemies. Carmen stealing his money. Carmen sabotaging his shipments.
His vision blurred as he stared at the images in front of him. His wife. The woman he had trusted. The mother of his child. Betraying him.
Marco’s chest tightened, fury boiling in his veins. This couldn’t be real. It had to be fake.
Some kind of setup. But the pictures didn’t lie.
There she was—clear as day, sitting across from the very men who had been trying to destroy him.
The emails were detailed, full of information only someone close to him could have leaked.
Payment transfers. Shipment routes. Things only Carmen knew. Marco clenched his fists, his jaw tightening so hard it hurt.
“No,” he muttered to himself.
It didn’t make sense. Carmen wouldn’t do this. Would she? Footsteps. Marco’s head snapped up just as the door opened. And there she was. Carmen.
Standing in the doorway, completely unaware of what was about to happen. She paused, frowning slightly when she saw him.
“Marco?” she asked, stepping forward. “What’s wrong?”
Marco didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. His rage took over. He moved before he could stop himself, closing the distance between them in two strides.
His hand wrapped around her throat.
“Get the f**k out of my house,” he growled, his voice low, dangerous, furious. Carmen’s eyes widened in pure shock. “Marco—!” she gasped, her hands flying up to grip his wrist. But he didn’t loosen his hold.
His breath was ragged, his body shaking with rage.
“How long?” he hissed, his grip tightening slightly. “How long have you been working with them?”
Carmen’s face twisted in confusion.
“What the hell are you talking about?” she choked out, trying to pull away. Marco snarled, shoving her back against the desk, the papers scattering onto the floor.
“Don’t f**king lie to me!” he roared.