Chapter 7 - The Accusation
Vincent slowly stood up from the formal dining table.
The rare warmth that had just been in his eyes vanished entirely, replaced by a freezing, lethal suspicion.
Harper jumped out of her chair, shaking her head frantically in denial.
She swore on her mother's life that she had not spoken to a single soul since she arrived at the estate.
Elias stepped forward with a vicious sneer and pulled a cheap burner phone from his jacket pocket.
He threw the plastic device onto the dining table right in front of her plate.
It was the exact same model of phone Vincent had given her at the diner before the shooting.
Elias claimed loudly that he had found it hidden carefully beneath Harper's mattress during a routine security sweep.
He tapped the screen to show three outgoing calls to a number belonging to Don Marcano's right-hand man.
Harper looked at Vincent with tears streaming down her face, pleading with him to believe she was being framed.
Vincent stared silently at the phone for a long, agonizing moment.
His jaw tightened as he coldly ordered Elias to lock Harper inside the basement holding cell.
Harper screamed and fought wildly as two massive guards grabbed her arms and dragged her away from the table.
She was hauled down three flights of stairs and thrown violently into a freezing, concrete room without any windows.
The heavy steel door slammed shut, leaving her in absolute, terrifying darkness.
She sat on the cold floor, hugging her knees and crying until she physically had no tears left to shed.
Hours passed in silence before she finally heard the heavy sound of the deadbolt turning.
The metal door slowly creaked open, letting in a blinding sliver of hallway light.
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It was not Vincent or Elias standing in the doorway holding the keys.
It was Simon, her cowardly former manager from the Brass Rail.
