Chapter 2 - The Shadow of the Past
Rain poured over the city as my black armored sedan pulled up to the rear entrance of St. Jude’s Private Hospital.
I walked down the sterile, fluorescent-lit corridors of the fifth floor. Two of my guards, wearing plain suits, stood posted outside Room 512. Inside, the quiet hum of heart monitors and ventilators filled the room.
Isabella was asleep on the small couch in the corner, wrapped in a plush wool blanket I had ordered Marco to bring from the estate. She held a fresh stuffed bear tightly against her chest, her breathing finally deep and peaceful.
Beside the bed, sat Carmen.
Her face was deathly pale, an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose. IV lines snaked into her thin wrists, pumping antibiotics and fluids into her frail body. Her dark hair was spread across the white pillow, making her look even smaller than she was.
As I approached the bed, her eyelids fluttered open. She looked around the room, disoriented and terrified, until her eyes landed on me.
I pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.
"Shh," I said gently, holding up a hand to stop her from trying to speak through the mask. "Don't try to move. The surgery was successful. The doctors cleared the infection in your lungs. You're safe."
Carmen pulled the oxygen mask down slightly, her voice a raspy, broken whisper. "Isabella..."
"She's right there," I pointed toward the couch. "She's fed, she's warm, and she's sleeping. Nobody is going to hurt her."
Tears trickled down Carmen's hollow cheeks. "Mr. Victor... I am so sorry... I didn't know she was sneaking into the kitchen... I swear to you, she isn't a bad girl..."
"I know she isn't," I said smoothly. "She gave me a note. She tried to take the blame for everything to protect you."
Carmen closed her eyes, a heavy sob wracking her chest. "She's been carrying too much... ever since her father died..."
I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees, resting my chin on my hands. My voice dropped into a dark, serious tone.
"Speaking of her father," I said quietly. "Let's talk about Julian Rossi."
Carmen went completely rigid. The heart rate monitor beside her bed began to beep faster, its rhythmic chiming echoing in the quiet room.
"You know who I am, don't you, Carmen?" I asked. "You’ve known since the day you applied for the housekeeping job at my estate."
She swallowed hard, her trembling hand reaching up to touch the silver crucifix hanging around her neck.
"I didn't come to your house to spy on you, Mr. Victor," she whispered, her eyes filled with desperate honesty. "I swear on my daughter's life! I didn't know who owned the estate when I applied through the agency. But three weeks after I started, I saw you in the hallway. I recognized your face from the news after the Valenti collapse."
"And you stayed?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I stayed because I was terrified!" she sobbed quietly. "I knew that if I quit suddenly, your men might look into my background and discover who I was! I thought... I thought if I kept my head down, worked hard, cleaned your floors, and stayed invisible, we would be safe! I didn't take a single dollar from your house! I never went near your office!"
"Where is the forty million, Carmen?" I asked directly.
She looked straight into my eyes. "There is no forty million."
I frowned. "Julian took it from the Valenti vault before he was killed."
"Julian didn't take it!" Carmen whispered furiously, her pale face flushing with sudden anger. "Julian was set up! He was just the head accountant! When he discovered that the syndicate's underboss—a man named Hector Vance—was embezzling the money and laundering it through fake real estate companies, Julian tried to copy the ledgers to protect himself. Hector found out, killed Julian, framed him for the theft, and took everything!"
I stiffened in my chair. "Hector Vance? The landlord with the gold tooth?"
"Yes!" Carmen cried softly, tears overflowing. "After Julian was murdered, Hector came after me. He knew Julian had hidden the hard drive containing the real ledger proof. Hector couldn't find the drive, so he forced me into hiding. He tracked me down two years ago, took our savings, took our home, and forced us to live in his dilapidated tenement on the south side. He takes every penny I earn from cleaning your house just to keep quiet about where we are!"
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place with terrifying precision.
The missing syndicate millions. The dead accountant. The maid who worked nineteen-hour days while her daughter starved in my pantry. The landlord sucking them dry.
Before I could reply, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and answered.
"Victor," Marco’s tense voice spoke through the speaker. "We have a situation."
"What is it?"
"I sent two guys to check out Hector Vance's address like you asked," Marco reported, his tone unusually grim. "They found his apartment cleared out. But that’s not the worst part. Hector just made a call to an anonymous contact in the city police department. He’s claiming that Victor Vance has kidnapped a woman and her child and is holding them hostage at St. Jude's Hospital."
I smiled—a dark, cold, predatory smile that made the air in the room drop several degrees.
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"He's trying to force a raid," I said calmly.
"He wants to get to Carmen before she talks to you," Marco agreed. "Boss... SWAT is mobilizing. They'll be at the hospital in fifteen minutes."
