Chapter 3 – THE BURNER PHONE AND THE BLUFF

The burner phone felt like a block of ice in my lap.

I stared at it, then up at Rebecca. Her beautiful, perfectly contoured face was a mask of cold calculation. Silas stood by the door, the suppressed pistol raised, aimed directly at my temple.

“You want me to start a mob war,” I whispered, the horrifying realization dawning on me. “If I tell Dominic the Moretti family attacked me, he’ll retaliate. He’ll send his men to attack them.”

“Exactly,” Rebecca smiled, a chilling, triumphant expression. “While Dominic exhausts his resources fighting a ghost war against the Morettis, my father’s syndicate will swoop in and take over his territories completely unopposed. And I will play the terrified, grieving widow.”

“I won’t do it,” I said, my voice shaking, but my jaw set. “I won’t help you destroy his family.”

Silas stepped forward, pressing the cold metal barrel of the gun against the side of my head. The pressure was painful.

“You don’t have a choice, Claire,” Rebecca sneered. “Call him. Now.”

My hands trembled as I picked up the burner phone. I dialed Dominic’s private number, the one he had given me before I left the mansion.

It rang twice.

“Claire,” Dominic’s deep, commanding voice answered. “Are you secure?”

“Mr. Castellano,” I choked out, forcing tears into my voice—which wasn’t hard, considering I was terrified out of my mind. “I’m so sorry. I… I got the box from the storage unit, but I was ambushed.”

“Where are you? Are you hurt?” The immediate shift from mafia boss to frantic protector in his voice nearly broke my resolve.

“I’m okay, they let me go,” I lied, reading the script Rebecca was pointing to on a notepad. “They took the bag. They took everything.”

“Who took it, Claire?” Dominic demanded, a lethal, dangerous rumble returning to his tone.

I looked at Rebecca. She was smiling, nodding encouragingly.

“It was… it was the Morettis,” I stammered.

I watched Rebecca’s smile widen. She had won.

But I didn’t stop talking.

“They said they wanted the music box, Mr. Castellano,” I continued rapidly, my heart hammering against my ribs. “They said they knew exactly what was inside it because they’ve been listening to everything you do.”

Rebecca’s smile instantly vanished. She frowned, stepping toward me.

“The music box?” Dominic repeated, genuine confusion in his voice. “Why would the Morettis care about a broken music box in my living room?”

“They said they broke the teacup, Mr. Castellano!” I yelled into the phone, praying he would understand the code. “They said they broke Grandma Rose’s teacup, and they were coming back for the rabbit!”

“Shut her up!” Rebecca shrieked, lunging across the desk to snatch the phone from my hand.

But it was too late. I had said enough.

Silas struck me hard across the face with the heavy pistol. I crashed to the floor, my vision exploding into white stars, the taste of copper flooding my mouth.

I lay on the dirty concrete, gasping for air, clutching my bleeding lip.

Rebecca ended the call, staring at me with absolute, unhinged fury.

“What did you just do?” Rebecca snarled, kicking me viciously in the ribs.

I curled into a ball, coughing violently. “I told him… the truth.”

Rebecca grabbed me by the hair, hauling my head up. “You spoke gibberish! You told him about a broken teacup! What code was that?!”

I spat blood onto the floor, glaring up at the woman who had tormented an eleven-year-old girl for eight months.

“Dominic isn’t stupid, Rebecca,” I gasped, a fierce, triumphant defiance pushing through the pain. “He knows the Morettis don’t know anything about his living room. He knows they don’t know about his daughter’s broken toys. The only person who knows about the music box, the teacup, and the rabbit… is you.”

Rebecca’s face went entirely white.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. I hadn’t pointed Dominic toward a rival family. I had pointed him directly back to his own house. Directly back to her.

“You stupid, arrogant little maid,” Rebecca whispered, her voice shaking with pure, unrestrained malice. She let go of my hair, standing up abruptly.

“Kill her,” Rebecca ordered Silas, walking quickly toward the office door. “Dump her body in the river. We have to accelerate the timeline. My father needs to breach the mansion tonight before Dominic realizes the truth.”

“With pleasure,” Silas grunted, racking the slide of his pistol.

Rebecca didn’t look back as she hurried out of the warehouse, disappearing into the dark.

I scrambled backward on the concrete floor, pressing my back against the rusted metal desk. I had no weapons. I had no backup. I was going to die in this filthy office because I tried to protect a little girl.

Silas aimed the gun directly at my chest, a cruel, mocking smile on his face.

“Any last words, Claire?” Silas sneered.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the gunshot.

Suddenly, a deafening, catastrophic explosion rocked the entire warehouse.

The concrete floor shuddered violently beneath me. Dust rained down from the ceiling rafters, and the heavy metal doors of the warehouse blew entirely off their hinges, crashing inward with the force of a bomb.

Silas stumbled backward, dropping his aim in sheer shock.

Through the thick, billowing smoke pouring in from the shattered entrance, a massive, armored black SUV tore into the warehouse, its high-beams blindingly bright.

The SUV slammed on its brakes, skidding sideways across the concrete floor.

The back doors burst open before the vehicle even fully stopped.

And stepping out into the smoke, holding a heavy, military-grade assault rifle and looking like the god of war himself, was Dominic Castellano.

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