The Mafia's Forced Bride
Isabella says gently, “or someone had full, unrestricted access to her private, uncirculated code library. Code she never shared with anyone outside the family. Code she kept on a personal server she kept locked in her home office, the one we all thought was destroyed after the crash.”
Viktor swears under his breath in Russian, sharp and vicious. Sarah’s camera zooms in on the string of code on the screen, then on Dante’s ashen face. She does not say a word. She does not have to. The story is writing itself right in front of her lens, a layer of betrayal older than any of us had guessed.