Chapter 10 - The False Sunrise
A sleek black SUV rolled out from the shadows of the tall pine trees.
The driver was an older man in a sharp suit, one of Vincent's most loyal cleaners.
He quickly ushered us into the warm leather interior of the vehicle and sped away.
We drove in complete silence until we reached a towering high-rise in the heart of Manhattan.
We were taken up a private elevator to a breathtaking, heavily guarded penthouse suite.
A private doctor was waiting to stitch up Vincent's gunshot wound.
I carried an exhausted, sleeping Mia into a luxurious guest bedroom and tucked her under a soft duvet.
When I walked back out to the living room, Vincent was standing by the massive glass windows.
He poured two glasses of expensive amber whiskey and handed one to me.
I took the glass, our fingers brushing lightly, and I felt a sudden, undeniable spark of trust between us.
"You saved my life today, Clara," he said softly, his eyes reflecting the city lights.
"We are completely safe now. Nobody can touch us in this building," he promised.
I watched him walk away toward the master bathroom to finally take a shower.
I felt like I could truly breathe for the first time in days.
Then, a black burner phone sitting on the marble kitchen island began to vibrate.
I picked it up, expecting it to be the security team checking in from the lobby.
I pressed the phone to my ear and quietly said hello.
"Did you get my daughter out of that house safely?" a familiar voice asked.
The crystal whiskey glass slipped from my trembling hand and shattered into pieces across the floor.
May you like
It was my dead husband, David.
"Good job, Clara. Keep him distracted while I take the elevator up," he whispered.
