Chapter 6
Leonie remained huddled on the freezing concrete, shivering violently as the reality of her impending execution began to set in. The grand, luxurious life she had ruthlessly carved out for herself was completely obliterated in the span of an hour. Her diamond earrings scraped against the rough brick as she looked up at Donovan with red, swollen eyes.
“I loved you!” Leonie screamed, her voice cracking under the impossible weight of her own lies. “She was weak, Donovan! She hated the life! She wanted to take Eddie and leave you! I heard her on the phone! I just stopped her! I secured our future!”
Donovan did not move an inch. He looked down at her with a profound, terrifying emptiness, the small tattoo on his neck pulsing slightly with his controlled breathing.
“Do you honestly believe I require a murderer to manage my domestic affairs? Did you think a satin gown and a stolen wedding ring would transform you into a queen?” Donovan asked quietly.
“I did it for us!” Leonie sobbed, reaching a trembling hand out toward his tailored trousers. “You were so busy with the syndicate, you couldn't see how miserable she made you! I stepped up! I took care of the problem!”
“Is bashing a woman's skull in and freezing her corpse your definition of stepping up, Leonie?” Donovan asked, taking a slow half-step backward to avoid her desperate touch. “Did you mistake my wealth for a weakness you could exploit through butchery?”
Leonie pulled her hand back, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she wept. The cold air pouring from the open walk-in freezer was turning her fair, rosy skin blue, but Donovan made no move to shut the heavy steel door.
“I panicked,” Leonie whispered, staring blankly at the floor. “The blood was everywhere. I didn't know what to do. I forged the note. I sent her car to the long-term parking lot at the airport. I thought you would just move on.”
“Did you truly believe a man who built an empire from blood and ash would simply move on without verifying the facts?” Donovan asked, his sharp jaw setting into a brutal line. “Did you think I was too foolish to notice the inconsistencies in the security footage?”
Leonie’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. “You knew? If you knew the footage was altered, why did you let me stay?”
“Did I ever invite you to stay out of love, or did I simply keep my prime suspect close until my son finally found his voice?” Donovan countered, his cold, observant eyes entirely devoid of mercy.
He had known. For four months, the mafia boss had known his wife hadn't simply walked away. He had been playing a long, agonizing, calculated game, waiting for the final piece of the puzzle to snap into place. And Eddie had just handed it to him.
Maisie shifted her weight on the stairs, her arms burning from holding the seven-year-old boy. She watched the exchange with a mixture of horror and awe. The level of restraint Donovan Pierce possessed was terrifying.
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Donovan reached into his pocket and withdrew a crisp, white handkerchief, methodically wiping a speck of dust from his signet ring. He looked down at the ruined woman on his floor.
“How does a woman of your delicate stature lift dead weight down a flight of concrete stairs, Leonie?” Donovan asked, his tone dropping an octave. “Who carried her down into the dark for you?”
