Chapter 1 - THE DOOR CAME DOWN
The bathroom door exploded inward.
Splintered wood struck the tile beside my face.
My husband, Derek Cole, stood in the broken doorway with bloodshot eyes and a half-empty whiskey bottle in one hand.
His expensive white shirt was untucked.
His knuckles were red.
He looked down at my broken arm and smiled.
“Who did you call?”
I pressed the phone against my chest.
Vincent was still on the line.
Derek stepped over the ruined door.
“You think one of your diner friends is going to save you?”
He grabbed my hair with his free hand.
Pain tore across my scalp.
I screamed.
The phone fell onto the tile.
Vincent’s voice came through the speaker.
“Take your hand off her.”
Derek froze.
Then he laughed.
“Who is this?”
Vincent did not answer the question.
“I said take your hand off her.”
Derek released my hair only long enough to pick up the phone.
He studied the screen.
The color slowly drained from his face.
“You called Moretti?”
His voice no longer sounded amused.
I stared at him through tears.
Until that moment, I had not known Derek recognized Vincent’s name personally.
He turned toward the apartment entrance.
The hallway outside had become strangely quiet.
Derek looked at the clock above the bedroom door.
Only four minutes had passed.
“You lying little—”
He raised his hand.
A violent crash sounded from the front of the apartment.
The lock broke.
Heavy footsteps moved through the living room.
Derek dragged me upright and pressed the broken whiskey bottle beneath my chin.
“Stay back.”
Three men appeared in the hallway.
All wore dark coats.
None held a visible weapon.
They did not need one.
The man in the center was Vincent Moretti.
He looked exactly as he had inside the diner.
Dark hair touched with silver.
A charcoal suit.
A calm expression that made the entire apartment feel smaller.
His eyes moved from Derek’s face to my broken arm.
Something cold entered them.
“Let her go.”
Derek tightened his grip.
“She is my wife.”
Vincent took one step forward.
“That sentence does not give you ownership of her body.”
“You cannot come into my home.”
Vincent glanced at the shattered front door.
“You stopped having a home the moment you turned it into a cage.”
Derek pressed the glass closer to my throat.
Vincent stopped moving.
His voice remained quiet.
“Lena.”
I looked at him.
“When I count to three, lower your head.”
Derek laughed nervously.
“You think she is going to obey you?”
Vincent did not look away from me.
“One.”
My heartbeat pounded against the glass.
“Two.”
I dropped.
One of Vincent’s men crossed the room so quickly that I barely saw him move.
He struck Derek’s wrist.
The bottle shattered against the wall.
Another man pulled me away.
Derek swung wildly.
Vincent caught him by the collar and drove him backward against the bathroom frame.
He did not hit him.
He held him there.
That restraint frightened Derek more than rage would have.
“You broke her arm.”
“It was an accident.”
Vincent looked toward the twisted limb hanging beside my body.
“No.”
“Accidents are followed by panic.”
“You poured yourself a drink.”
Sirens sounded outside.
Derek’s eyes widened.
“You called the police?”
Vincent released him.
“I called an ambulance.”
“Lena will decide what happens next.”
That sentence changed the room.
Vincent had not arrived to claim me.
He had arrived to return my choices.
Two officers entered with paramedics behind them.
Derek immediately transformed.
His shoulders dropped.
His voice softened.
“My wife fell.”
I looked toward Vincent.
He said nothing.
He did not answer for me.
A female officer knelt nearby.
“Ma’am, can you tell me what happened?”
My throat closed.
Five years of fear pushed against a single sentence.
Derek stared at me.
I heard every apology he had forced from me.
Every threat.
Every promise that no one would believe a waitress over a respected financial consultant.
I looked at the officer.
“My husband broke my arm.”
Derek lunged forward.
The officers restrained him.
As they placed him in handcuffs, he shouted toward Vincent.
“You have no idea what she is carrying.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
Derek laughed again.
“Ask her about the red ledger.”
I had never heard of any red ledger.
May you like
Vincent had.
For the first time since entering the apartment, real alarm appeared in his eyes.
