Chapter 4 - The Bride's Deception
The rain turned into a torrential downpour, hammering against the armored roof of the SUV as they sped back toward the Rossi estate.
Rachel stared at the black leather ledger resting on Vincent’s lap. It looked so small. Just a book. Yet it contained enough poison to execute the entire Rossi organization or crown its new king.
“Isabella doesn’t just want me dead,” Rachel said softly, her voice carrying over the sound of the engine. “She wants that book. If she gives it to the feds, the Rossi family is finished. If she keeps it, she owns this city.”
Vincent nodded slowly, his respect for his newly discovered cousin growing by the minute. She was adapting. The panic was fading, replaced by a cold, calculated logic.
“Isabella played the long game,” Frank said from the front seat, staring out into the dark streets. “She spent three years playing the perfect, submissive fiancé. She let you believe you were controlling her, Vincent.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened so hard it looked like it might shatter.
“She used my own vanity against me,” Vincent admitted, a rare moment of vulnerability. “She knew I wanted a wife who wouldn’t question my authority. While I was busy playing the king, she was mapping out my entire kingdom.”
Rachel’s phone vibrated again.
The SUV went completely silent.
Rachel looked at Vincent. He nodded.
She answered, putting it on speaker.
“Are you in the car with him, Rachel?” Isabella’s voice was as calm as a Sunday morning.
“Let my mother go,” Rachel demanded, her voice remarkably steady.
“I will,” Isabella purred. “But the price has gone up. Vincent, I know you’re listening.”
“I’m going to bury you, Isabella,” Vincent said, leaning closer to the phone. “I’m going to bury you in that ten-thousand-dollar wedding dress.”
Isabella laughed. A chilling, melodic sound.
“You’re going to give me the ledger, Vincent. The one Daniel’s little whore kept hidden all these years. And you are going to hand over Rachel.”
“No,” Vincent said instantly.
“Think carefully, darling,” Isabella countered. “Tomorrow at midnight. The old Navy Shipyard. Pier 41. Bring the book and the girl, or I send the mother back in pieces. And Vincent?”
“What.”
“Don’t try to outsmart me. Your security chief, Marcus? He works for me. He has for two years. So whatever plan you make, I will already know.”
The line went dead.
Rachel felt the air suck out of the vehicle.
She slowly turned her head.
In the front passenger seat, Marcus turned around.
He wasn't holding a steering wheel. He was holding a suppressed Glock, aimed directly at Vincent’s chest.
“Sorry, Boss,” Marcus said, his face entirely blank of emotion. “Nothing personal. But the Morettis pay in gold. You pay in loyalty. Loyalty doesn’t buy a house in the Hamptons.”
Before Marcus could pull the trigger, Frank moved with a speed that defied his age. He slammed his elbow into Marcus’s wrist.
The gun went off with a muffled cough.
The bullet shattered the thick bulletproof glass inches from Rachel’s face.
Vincent lunged forward, wrapping a leather garrote wire around Marcus’s throat from the backseat.
The SUV swerved violently as the driver panicked, tires screaming against the wet asphalt.
“Pull over!” Vincent roared to the driver, pulling the wire tighter until Marcus’s face turned violently purple.
The vehicle slammed into a brick alleyway, throwing Rachel violently against the door.
When she opened her eyes, Marcus was slumped over the center console, completely motionless.
May you like
Vincent breathed heavily, adjusting his cuffs.
“Change of plans,” Vincent said, looking at Rachel. “We don’t wait for midnight.”
