"This is no joke. Jason will die withouthis treatments."Valentina just smiled. "So you can plan for a funeral. Or I could coverhis treatments. And...a dowry of five million dollars would go a long way,wouldn't it, but you wouldn't have to use that for Jason. I would agreeto cover his medical treatments out of my own pocket. Or you can planfor a funeral. The decision is yours."Elizabeth's face turned dark red with rage but she knew she had littleoption here as she looked into Valentina's. I knocked once on the door then entered. “Hello, Fatima.”“Mrs. Abboud,” the dusky-faced woman, head head wrapped up in a sandy-beige scarf, said when I entered. She spoke swiftly, her cheeks so dark. “And you cannot ever tell my husband about this.”“About you inserting a champagne bottle into your pussy?” I asked. “He wasn’t there?”“It’s not a champagne bottle,” she huffed. “It is sparkling grape juice. I am a good, Muslim woman.”“Right,” I said. “A good, Muslim woman who shoved a sparkling. More

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