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He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath since they pulled me out of concrete and blood.

“You almost died.”

“No,” I corrected. “I almost lost time.”

That made him sit.

The chair creaked softly beside the bed.

“That Bitch ass Nigga Charles is working with someone who served Chanel,” he said.

I turned my head slowly to look at him.

He watched me closely, like he was measuring whether I was ready to hear the rest.

“And?” I asked.

“They want testimony,” he said. “They want optics.”

He leaned forward. “Kenya?—”

“I know,” I said calmly. “They’ll try again.”

Silence sat between us for a moment. Not awkward. Heavy.

“ADA called,” he added.

I laughed softly, then winced at my ribs. “That fast?”

“They’re coordinated,” he said. “Legal and financial.”

“Then Cameron’s driving,” I said without hesitation.

Zayden stiffened just slightly.

“You already knew,” he said.

“I suspected,” I replied. “I heard someone say her name during transport. But suspicion is just a theory until people get sloppy.”

“And now?”

“Now she’s bored,” I said. “So she’s escalating.”

I shifted carefully, sitting up against the pillows. My body protested, but I ignored it. Pain was background noise when your mind stayed busy.

“They won’t force me to testify,” I continued. “Not now. Not ever.”

Zayden frowned. “Why are you so sure?”

I looked him dead in his face.

“Spousal privilege,” I said.

The word landed heavily.

“You’re my husband. Anything I know is protected.”

His jaw tightened. “That won’t stop them from trying to scare you.”