Chapter 2 - The Unwanted Savior
Screams erupted from the wealthy guests as the guard hit the marble.
Vincent did not flinch, but his hand moved instinctively inside his tailored jacket.
“Marco, secure the perimeter,” Vincent ordered calmly into a hidden earpiece.
He stepped smoothly in front of Claire and his mother, completely shielding them from the doors.
Vanessa grabbed Vincent’s arm, her face pale with terror.
“Vincent, what is happening?” she shrieked.
He shoved her hand away without even looking at her.
“Get the guests into the underground wine cellar immediately,” he commanded his remaining men.
Men in dark suits flooded the ballroom, ushering the panicking politicians and executives toward the back exits.
Claire reached down and helped Eleanor to her feet.
The older woman was still crying, her hands clinging desperately to Claire’s torn dress.
“I looked for you for years,” Eleanor whispered through the chaos.
“The hospital wouldn’t give us your name.”
“I didn’t want a reward,” Claire said, her voice shaking as gunfire echoed from the lawn.
Vincent turned around, his eyes locking onto Claire’s face.
“You saved my sister’s life,” he stated softly.
“I just did what anyone would have done.”
“No,” Vincent corrected her.
“Everyone else stood on the sidewalk and watched my sister burn.”
A massive explosion shook the foundation of the estate, shattering the remaining crystal chandeliers.
Glass rained down upon the dance floor like sharp winter snow.
Vincent grabbed Claire by the waist, his strong arm pulling her tightly against his chest.
“Move,” he barked, dragging her toward his private study.
Eleanor followed closely behind, guarded by two massive enforcers.
Vanessa ran after them, her white silk gown now stained with spilled wine and dirt.
They burst into the reinforced study, and Vincent immediately locked the heavy steel doors.
The room was pitch black until the emergency backup generators hummed to life.
Claire pulled away from Vincent’s grip, her heart pounding furiously against her ribs.
“Who is attacking your house?” Claire demanded.
Vincent walked over to his mahogany desk and pulled out a heavy tactical pistol.
“People who think I have grown too soft,” he answered coldly.
Vanessa crossed her arms, glaring furiously at Claire.
“This is all her fault,” Vanessa spat out.
“Are you insane?” Claire asked, entirely baffled by the accusation.
“You distracted the guards with your pathetic little victim routine,” Vanessa yelled.
Vincent racked the slide of his pistol, the metallic sound silencing his fiancée instantly.
“Vanessa, if you speak to her like that again, I will throw you out into the hallway.”
Vanessa gasped, her eyes wide with absolute betrayal.
“I am your future wife!”
“You are an arrangement,” Vincent corrected brutally.
Eleanor sat heavily in a leather armchair, still staring at Claire’s burned shoulder.
“Vincent, you must protect her,” Eleanor pleaded.
“She carries our family's highest debt.”
In the mafia world, a life debt was a sacred, unbreakable bond written in blood.
Claire backed away toward the bookshelves, feeling entirely trapped.
“I don’t want your debt, I just want to go home to my apartment.”
Vincent looked at her, his expression unreadable and terrifying.
He picked up a ringing encrypted phone from his desk and listened for ten seconds.
He hung up the phone and looked directly into Claire's terrified eyes.
“You cannot go home, Claire.”
May you like
“Why not?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Because whoever is attacking my estate tonight just burned your apartment building to the ground.”
