Chapter 2

Half a month ago, I led my men to the docks for an important arms deal with smugglers. Accustomed to a life of gunfire and bloodshed, I handled things like a man, even though I was a woman.

Sophia insisted on coming along. My subordinates only treated her politely out of respect for me, which made her feel slighted. While I was checking the cargo manifest, she blocked my path.

"You think you're so special just because you help Dent run his business? In his eyes, you're nothing but a killing machine."

I had no time for such pointless provocations. I'd heard enough of them over the past six months. With a cold expression, I pushed past her and headed for the armored car. I was used to letting my fists and bullets do the talking—I had no interest in playing house with some girl.

But then she suddenly lost it. She refused to get in the bodyguards' car and ran into the container yard instead.

The place was like a maze, crawling with vagrants. Trying to avoid a few whistling thugs, she hid inside an empty shipping container. The rusted door slammed shut in the wind, trapping her in darkness.

By the time Dent arrived, she was huddled in a corner, trembling. She clutched at his collar, sobbing. "I just wanted to help, but Mrs. Elena seemed to really hate me... I was so scared. It was so dark."

When Dent held her in his arms and raised his gun at me with reddened eyes, I stared back coldly. I didn't even bother to explain. This was our core territory. No matter how bold those thugs were, they wouldn't dare lay a finger on Sophia.

But he wouldn't listen. He just shouted at me: "Elena, Sophia has claustrophobia, and you drove her to hide in a pitch-black metal box! Don't you know she was kidnapped before? Being locked in confined spaces is her lifelong nightmare! Sophia is so pure and kind, yet you always target her. Since you made her experience that terror in the container, I'm going to make you taste the same fear!"

My consciousness drifted back. Before me appeared Sophia, tear stains on her face. Wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, she looked somewhat pleased hearing Dent belittle me, but quickly replaced it with a concerned expression.

"Dent, I'm fine. Please don't blame Mrs. Elena because of me. You should let her out soon. If other families find out you're treating your wife this way, it'll hurt your reputation."

Dent tenderly stroked Sophia's long hair. "You're so kind and understanding. Not like her—always wearing that cold face, like everyone owes her something. When we let her out this time, if she still won't learn to bow her head, I'll have someone send photos of her pathetic state to the Rossi family."

My soul floated near the crystal chandelier, watching this scene unfold. It was laughable. Dent only remembered that I was too strong-willed, too proud. He'd forgotten who helped him build his territory.

I could no longer pose any threat to Sophia. Because I was a corpse.

At Sophia's urging, Dent waved his hand at Mark. "Go open the door. Let that crazy woman take a hot shower. I don't want her showing up at tomorrow night's celebration banquet reeking of fish."

Mark immediately picked up the walkie-talkie to relay the order. A few seconds later, Mark's face turned ghastly pale. His voice trembled as he reported.

"Boss, Mrs. Elena... she's not breathing!"