Page 39 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

The lock on my bedroom door clicks. I don't bother sitting up. It's probably another maid with food I won't eat, or medication I'll pretend to take.

"Miss Sterling? I've brought you some tea." A soft voice, tentative.

I don't answer. The young maid—Sarah, I think—places the tray on my bedside table and hovers for a moment.

"Is there anything else you need, Miss Sterling?"

What I need, she can't give me. Freedom. Enzo. My mother .

"No," I whisper, my voice rough from disuse. "Thank you."

She leaves, the lock clicking back into place. I stare at the ceiling, counting the shadows.

Four meals have come and gone since Henry's attack. Four trays returned untouched. Food seems pointless now.

I pull myself from the bed, wincing as my bruised ribs protest.

My fingers find the small remote on the dresser. Music has always been my escape, the one thing Henry couldn't take from me completely. I press play, and soft piano notes fill the room.

"Tale as old as time..."

I close my eyes as the familiar melody washes over me. Beauty and the Beast. A fairytale about finding love in unexpected places. How ironic that I found mine in the arms of a man others call monster.

I sink to the floor, back against the wall, and let the music carry me away from these gilded prison walls. Songs about love and hope and happy endings flow one into another. Stories of people meeting, falling in love, building lives together.

Normal people. Free people.

People who can walk down streets holding hands. People who don't have fathers who sell them or scars that map their skin like constellations of pain.

I lay on the bed, letting the music fill the bedroom that's in silence.

E nzo

The mansion looms ahead, a monument to wealth built on suffering. I park the car at the bottom of Sterling's sweeping driveway, just outside the gates. Charlotte sits beside me, her delicate hands folded in her lap, trembling slightly despite her determined expression.

"Are you ready?" I ask, studying her face.

"I've been ready for six years," she says, her voice soft but steady.

"Remember what we discussed. No matter what Henry says or does, stay calm. Don't let him provoke you."

Charlotte nods, squeezing my hand briefly before releasing it. "I understand. The plan is simple."

I study her face again, impressed by her composure. Despite everything Sterling has done to her, despite the years of drugged captivity, she's focused entirely on saving her daughter.

"When we're inside, let me do the talking unless he addresses you directly." I check my watch. Seven fifty-eight. "Henry will try to manipulate the situation. He'll lie. He'll threaten."

Charlotte's lips curve into a bitter smile. "The great irony. All these years, he could have just divorced me and found someone else. But my family's trust was too valuable to let go."

I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Damiano: Arriving now .

The response comes immediately: Got it .

The gates open as we approach, swinging inward with silent precision. We drive through, feeling the weight of surveillance cameras tracking our movement up the long driveway. Charlotte's breathing quickens beside me, but her face remains composed.

Two armed guards flank the massive front doors as we approach. I exit first, then walk around to help Charlotte. Her hand trembles in mine, but her chin lifts with quiet dignity.

The door opens before we reach it. A middle-aged woman in a plain black uniform stands in the doorway, her eyes widening when they land on Charlotte.

"Mr. Feretti, Mrs. Sterling," she says, her voice professionally neutral until it catches on Charlotte's name. "Please follow me. Mr. Sterling is waiting in his office."

As we step into the marble foyer, the maid's composure slips. Her eyes fill with tears as she looks at Charlotte.

"Mrs. Charl—" she begins, then stops abruptly, glancing toward the hallway where two security guards stand at attention outside what must be Sterling's office.

Charlotte touches the woman's arm gently. "It's good to see you again, Marie."

The maid nods once, blinking back tears as she straightens her shoulders and resumes her professional demeanor. "This way, please."

We follow her, our footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. The guards straighten as we approach, their hands resting on their holstered weapons.

"Mr. Sterling requested a security check," one of them says, stepping forward.

I raise my arms without being asked. "Of course."

His hands move efficiently over my body, checking for weapons. He pays special attention to my ankles, waistband, and under my arms.

"Clean," he announces, stepping back .

The second guard eyes Charlotte but doesn't move to search her. Even Sterling's thugs have some limits, it seems.

"Mrs. Sterling," the first guard acknowledges with a nod, then steps aside.

Marie's hand trembles slightly as she reaches for the door handle. "Mr. Sterling, your guests have arrived," she announces, then steps back to let us enter.

The door swings open to reveal Sterling's office. Dark mahogany panels the walls, expensive artwork hangs in strategic positions, and a massive desk dominates the center of the room. Everything screams power and money.

Henry Sterling sits behind his desk, not bothering to stand as we enter. His silver-streaked hair is perfectly styled, his suit impeccable.

"Well, well," Sterling says, a cold smile spreading across his face. "The prodigal wife returns." His gaze shifts between us, something calculated and cruel in his eyes. "And her knight in shining armor."

I guide Charlotte to one of the chairs opposite his desk. She sits with practiced grace, her spine straight, chin lifted. I remain standing beside her.

"Henry," Charlotte acknowledges, her voice soft but steady.

Sterling ignores her, focusing entirely on me.

"I have to say, Feretti, I'm surprised. I expected more intelligence from someone of your reputation.

" He leans back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers.

"What exactly was going through your mind when you decided to walk into my house?

Alone?" His smile widens. "One word from me, and my men put a bullet through your skull. So tell me, what's the real plan here?"

I meet his gaze without flinching. "You assume I came unprepared. "

"Oh?" Sterling raises an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."

I rest my hand on Charlotte's shoulder. "Your wife is wearing a device beneath her clothing. Charlotte, show him."

Charlotte slowly unbuttons the top of her blouse, revealing a small black box strapped to her chest. A red light blinks steadily on its surface. She removes a small remote from her pocket, holding it up for Sterling to see.

"One press of this button," I say calmly, "and the explosive detonates. Charlotte dies, I die, and if we're lucky, you die too." I tilt my head. "So I wonder, who's the stupid one here?"

Sterling's face hardens, his jaw clenching as he processes this information. His eyes dart to the device, then back to my face, searching for deception.

"You're bluffing," he says, but uncertainty edges his voice.

"Am I?" I shrug. "Care to find out?"

A muscle twitches in Sterling's jaw. "Why didn't my men search her?"

"How do I fucking know?" I ask simply. "Maybe they still have some twisted sense of respect for your wife. They wouldn't dare put their hands on Charlotte Sterling." I lean forward slightly. "That moral line is one you crossed long ago, but your employees still maintain it."

Sterling's eyes narrow, his gaze moving between us. The calculation behind his eyes is almost visible—weighing options, considering angles, looking for weakness.

"So," I continue, "shall we discuss the terms of our exchange? Or would you prefer to test whether I'm willing to die today?"