The Billionaire's Debt: The Waitress Who Saved a Syndicate

Matteo stared at the shattered face of the wristwatch. 11:14.

It wasn't just a threat. It was a terrifyingly specific message. Sinclair was telling them that he knew exactly when the baby was due, and that he could reach Abigail whenever he chose.

Matteo snapped the velvet box shut and shoved it into his pocket. His jaw tightened into a granite line.

"Vincenzo," Matteo barked, turning back to his head of security. "Double the perimeter guard. Nobody enters or leaves this estate without my personal authorization. Not even the cooks. Shut down the airspace over the property."

Vincenzo nodded grimly, reaching for his radio. "On it, boss."

Matteo walked swiftly down the hall to the reinforced steel door of the panic room. He keyed in the code, and the heavy door hissed open.

Abigail was sitting on a cot, her hands resting protectively over her belly. Isabella was pacing the floor, her arms crossed tight against her chest.

"What happened?" Isabella demanded.

"Sinclair sent a messenger," Matteo said, keeping his voice steady to avoid panicking Abigail further. "He wants to trade. The flash drive for Abigail's safety."

"You can't trust him," Abigail said immediately, standing up despite the ache in her back. "If you give him that drive, he has no reason to keep me alive. I'm the only witness to his daughter's hit-and-run."

"I have no intention of giving him anything," Matteo assured her, stepping closer. "By sunrise, I will have my lawyers deliver a copy of that drive to the FBI, the SEC, and the Attorney General. Sinclair will be arrested before he finishes his morning coffee."

Isabella let out a shaky breath of relief. "It's finally over."

Matteo looked at Abigail. "You're safe here. Try to get some sleep. I'll have a doctor brought in tomorrow to check on the baby."

He turned to leave the panic room, but as he reached the doorway, Vincenzo approached.

"Boss," Vincenzo said, his voice low. "I just got off the phone with our port authority contact. Sinclair's private cargo plane was just cleared for emergency takeoff at the private airstrip. He's not waiting for morning. He's fleeing the country to a non-extradition zone tonight."

Matteo cursed under his breath. If Sinclair left the country, the legal process would take years, and the billionaire would use his immense wealth to hunt Abigail from afar.

"Get the tactical team ready," Matteo ordered. "We hit the airstrip in twenty minutes. I'm not letting him get on that plane."

Vincenzo nodded. "I'll rally the men at the front gates."

As Vincenzo turned and walked down the hallway, Abigail stepped out of the panic room.

She watched Vincenzo walk away. Her brow furrowed. She took a slow, deep breath, her nostrils flaring slightly.

"Matteo," Abigail whispered, her voice suddenly trembling.

Matteo turned back to her, noticing the stark terror returning to her eyes. "What is it?"

"When your men rescued me from the ballroom tonight... did Vincenzo go to my apartment to pack my things before it burned?"

Matteo frowned. "No. Vincenzo was with me the entire time. I sent a different team to your apartment. Why?"

Abigail pointed a shaking finger down the hallway where the head of security had just disappeared.

"Because Vincenzo is wearing custom cologne," Abigail breathed, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "Sandalwood and black pepper."

Matteo’s eyes narrowed. "It's an imported Italian blend. He's worn it for years. What about it?"

Abigail instinctively took a step back into the panic room.

"Seven months ago," Abigail said, tears welling in her eyes, "when the police came to tell me David was dead... they gave me his personal effects in a sealed bag. His wallet, his keys... and his coat."

She looked directly into Matteo's gray eyes.

"David's burnt coat smelled exactly like that cologne, Matteo. It was soaked into the wool collar. The man who planted the bomb in David's car wasn't one of Sinclair's thugs."

The realization hit Matteo with the force of a physical blow.

Vincenzo.

His oldest friend. The man who had trained him to shoot. The man in charge of all the Romano syndicate's security.

Vincenzo had been the mole all along. He was the one facilitating Sinclair's weapon shipments through the ports. He was the one who murdered David when the accountant got too close. And he was the one who had just told Matteo that Sinclair was fleeing the country.

"It's a trap," Matteo whispered, his blood turning to ice. "He's trying to get me to leave the estate so he can finish the job here."

Before Matteo could draw his weapon, the power in the entire safehouse abruptly cut out.

Plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness, the heavy steel door of the panic room suddenly slammed shut right in Matteo's face.

The electronic lock beeped, engaging the deadbolt.

Matteo was locked outside in the dark hallway.

And Abigail and Isabella were trapped inside the soundproof room.