Chapter 5 - THE trap AT THE GOLD COAST
By 3:00 AM, the storm outside had intensified into a full blizzard, white snow swirling against the high-rise glass of Chicago's luxury district.
Inside an interrogation room at a private, unmarked security facility owned by the Valente family in South Loop, Karen Mitchell was sitting on a cold chair, her face streaked with mascara and tears.
Adrian sat across from her, his long legs crossed, sipping dark espresso from a white porcelain cup. Dante stood behind him like a statue of carved granite.
I sat in the corner of the room, watching in silence. Detective Santos stood near the door, arms crossed, having quietly agreed to let Adrian handle the interrogation off the official police record.
"I'll ask you one last time, Karen," Adrian said smoothly, his tone terrifyingly polite. "Where is she?"
"She... she stays at the Penthouse on Elm Street!" Karen sobbed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "Suite 4002! She pays me through a lawyer in Panama! I never saw her in person after the crash! She called me three months ago!"
"Why does she want Emma dead?" Adrian asked, setting his cup down on the saucer with a soft clink.
"The trust..." Karen squeaked. "Elena’s father left fifty million dollars in a private trust for Emma. But there's a clause... if Emma dies before her first birthday without living heirs, the entire principal reverts to Elena’s offshore foundation! Elena lost all her money in European casinos after she ran away with her lover!"
Adrian’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained eerily calm. "Her lover?"
"Julian Vance," Karen whispered, terrified. "The cousin of your rival, Marco Vance. They planned the car crash together. They put a homeless woman's body in the driver's seat and torched the vehicle so you would think she was dead!"
A dark, bitter laugh escaped Adrian's chest. He stood up, buttoning his tailored suit jacket, turning toward Dante.
"Julian Vance," Adrian murmured. "My oldest enemy. He took my money, he took my wife, and then he sent her back to murder my daughter."
He turned to me.
"Maya," Adrian said softly.
I stood up. "Yes?"
"Your sister was just admitted to St. Anthony’s. Dr. Vance—no relation to Julian—is prepping her for surgery at eight tomorrow morning. She is safe. She has four armed guards at her door."
Relief washed over me so fast my knees almost buckled. "Thank you, Adrian. Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Adrian said, stepping close to me, his dark eyes fixing onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten. "Elena knows Karen failed because Emma is still alive at the mansion. But she doesn't know we know she's alive."
"What are you going to do?" Detective Santos asked from the doorway, raising an eyebrow.
"We're going to give my wife what she wants," Adrian declared calmly. "A funeral."
He looked at me.
"Karen is going to text Elena tonight," Adrian explained. "She's going to tell her that the baby suffered brain damage from the hypothermia and passed away quietly at a private clinic in Evanston. She's going to tell Elena that I am completely broken, alone, and un armed at our lake house in Michigan."
"You're baiting them," I said.
"I'm going to end them," Adrian corrected me coldly. "And I need you to do one more thing for me, Maya."
May you like
"What?"
"I need you to stay by my side," Adrian said, his hand reaching out to touch mine, his grip firm and warm. "Because when Elena comes to finish me, I want her to see the woman who replaced her."
