Chapter 3 - The Ransom
The lawyer shoved me hard against the pavement just as a hail of bullets shattered the sedan's windows.
Glass rained down on my back while the deafening gunfire echoed off the brick buildings.
The motorcycle sped away into the night, leaving a trail of smoke and destruction.
"Get in the car, now!" the lawyer yelled, pulling me up by my good arm.
The driver was already hitting the gas before my door even closed.
We tore through the neon-lit streets of Manhattan, running every red light.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I realized my husband was actively trying to murder me.
The car finally descended into a heavily fortified underground parking garage.
Armed men in dark suits surrounded the vehicle as I stepped out, trembling uncontrollably.
I was escorted up a private elevator that opened directly into a sprawling, luxurious penthouse.
Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows was Vincent Moretti.
He looked even more imposing than I remembered, radiating absolute authority and danger.
"You are late," Vincent said softly, without turning around.
"Mark ambushed us outside the precinct, Boss," the lawyer explained.
Vincent slowly turned, his dark eyes locking onto my ruined, bruised arm.
A terrifying, cold fury crossed his handsome face.
"A doctor is coming to set your bone," Vincent told me, stepping closer.
"Why is my husband doing this?" I asked, my voice cracking.
Vincent poured a glass of amber liquor and handed it to me.
"Mark is not just a drunk, Lena; he is a low-level earner for the Romano cartel."
My blood ran cold at the mention of the most ruthless rival crime family in the city.
"He stole three million dollars from me, and he framed you to buy time to escape."
Suddenly, Vincent's cell phone buzzed loudly on the glass coffee table.
Vincent answered on speakerphone, and Mark’s voice filled the room.
May you like
"If you want your money, Vincent, you better hand over my wife," Mark taunted.
"Because I just picked up her little sister from college."
