Chapter 4 - The Broken Rosary
I stared at the heavy cashmere coat resting on Marco’s ruined bed, my mind racing through a panicked inventory of survival.
The men in the black SUV hadn’t just breached my home; they had left a calling card on my teenage brother’s bed to prove they could touch him whenever they wanted.
“Pack a bag,” I ordered Marco, keeping my voice dangerously steady. “Just clothes and your inhalers. Five minutes.”
“Maya, what is going on?” Marco’s voice cracked. “Who did this?”
“I don't know yet. Move.”
I pulled a small business card from my wallet. It was plain black with a single phone number printed in embossed silver ink. Damian Volkov’s personal line, given to me by his lawyers eight weeks ago. I had sworn never to use it, unwilling to owe the billionaire any more than I already did.
I had no choice now.
I dialed. It rang exactly once before a sharp, cold voice answered.
“Speak.”
“Damian. It’s Maya Rossi.”
A fraction of a second of silence. “Are you hurt?”
“No. But my apartment was just broken into. They left a warning on my brother’s bed. A men’s cashmere coat. And... they’re looking for something.”
“I am three minutes away,” Damian said. The line went dead.
He was closer than he should have been.
Four minutes later, heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Damian Volkov stepped through my broken door, flanked by two men who moved with lethal, silent precision. They instantly swept the apartment, securing the perimeter.
Damian walked into Marco’s bedroom. He wore a dark charcoal suit, his gray eyes sweeping over the slashed mattress. When his gaze landed on the heavy cashmere coat, a muscle feathered in his jaw.
“Julian Vale,” Damian said, his voice dropping an octave. “Cassandra’s brother.”
“The socialite from the gala,” I realized, stepping closer to Marco, who was clutching his backpack.
“Cassandra is a noisy distraction,” Damian said, turning to face me. “Her brother Julian is a ghost. He runs the Vale syndicate’s underground operations. And right now, Julian controls my board of directors through blackmail and intimidation.”
The reversal hit me hard. “You’re Damian Volkov. Everyone is terrified of you. You don’t control your own company?”
“Power is an illusion, Maya,” Damian said bitterly. “I have wealth. Julian has leverage. Three years ago, he engineered a car crash to kill me. My mother threw herself over the wheel to alter the trajectory. She traded her legs for my life.”
I gasped, remembering the silver-haired woman’s quiet dignity.
“I have spent three years hunting for the financial ledger that proves Julian orchestrated the hit and embezzled billions from the Volkov empire,” Damian continued. “If I find it, I destroy him. If he finds it first, he destroys me.”
I reached into my pocket. My hand trembled as I pulled out the tarnished silver coin.
“I think your mother found it,” I whispered.
Damian froze. His eyes locked onto the coin.
I slid the secret seam open, revealing the black micro-SD card nestled inside.
“She slipped this into my hand at the gala,” I explained. “She knew Julian’s men were watching you. She used me to smuggle it out.”
Damian looked at the coin, a mixture of profound betrayal and awe crossing his face. “She didn't trust my security detail. She knew Julian had moles inside my house.”
“She trusted a waitress over her own guards,” I said.
Damian took a step forward to take the coin, but then his eyes caught something on the bed.
He reached down and checked the pocket of Julian’s heavy cashmere coat. His hand emerged holding something wooden and broken.
It was a wooden rosary. The beads were worn smooth from decades of prayer.
All the color drained from Damian’s face. He looked more terrified than I had ever seen him.
“This is my mother’s,” Damian choked out, his voice cracking. “She never takes it off. It hasn't left her hands in thirty years.”
The realization hit both of us at exactly the same time.
May you like
Julian Vale hadn't just broken into my apartment. He had already breached the Volkov estate.
Julian had Elena.
