Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the CCTV
Panic and defiance flared hot inside my chest, overriding the physical pain of my healing stitches.
“I am not a piece of property for you to manage, Mr. Vescari!” I shot back, my voice trembling slightly as I tried to sit up higher against the pillows.
“I made a human choice to save a terrified little boy, not to sign away my independence to some corporate warlord!”
Damian didn’t flinch, nor did his expression grow angry; instead, a strange, dark glint of respect flickered deep within his black-brown eyes.
“Most people who find themselves indebted to me lose their voice entirely out of sheer terror, Emma,” he replied quietly, his gaze dropping briefly to my clenched fists before rising back to meet my eyes.
“The fact that you’re still ready to fight me tooth and nail proves that Arthur wasn't exaggerating your resilience.”
Before I could fire back another sharp retort, the private door clicked open again without a knock.
Marco slipped smoothly into the room, holding a encrypted tablet computer under his arm.
He took one look at my flushed face and Damian’s close proximity, prudently keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.
“Boss,” Marco murmured respectfully.
“We finished sweeping the digital logs from the Bellamy House mezzanine and cross-referenced the security footage against local transit feeds.”
Damian straightened up, instantly shifting from intense protector back into the cold, calculating syndicate boss.
“Talk to me, Marco,” Damian commanded, stepping away from my bedside.
“The glass launcher wasn't operated by a random amateur,” Marco reported, tapping the tablet to project a high-resolution security still onto the sleek smart-screen mounted on the hospital wall.
The image showed a blurry, grainy figure wearing a faded grey janitorial jumpsuit slipping through the open service exit just seconds after the glass shattered.
“The device was a custom-modified pneumatic crossbow designed to mimic the acoustic frequency of a falling glass tray so the sound would blend into the ambient noise of the gala,” Marco continued, zooming in on a faint insignia on the collar of the jumpsuit.
“And the uniform?” Damian asked, his voice dropping into an arctic frost.
“Stolen from an independent maintenance contractor named Thomas Miller, who was found bound and gagged inside a utility closet two blocks away from Bellamy House,” Marco answered grimly.
“The man who pulled the trigger used a professional mercenary ID—someone high-end. Someone who knew our exact private security rotation.”
My heart hammered against my ribs as I listened to the cold execution of a murder plot.
“That means,” I whispered, my voice cutting through the tense silence of the room, “the person who tried to kill Luca wasn't an outsider... they had help from inside your own organization.”
Damian’s head snapped toward me, his sharp gaze narrowing with dangerous approval.
“Go on, Emma,” he prompted, gesturing for me to continue.
“Think about it,” I said, ignoring the dull ache in my side as I leaned forward.
“If they knew your private security rotation, and if they knew exactly which table Luca would be sitting at twenty minutes before you arrived, a random street thug couldn't pull that off.”
I pointed toward the grainy image on the screen.
“Whoever wore that jumpsuit had a blueprint of Bellamy House, and they knew the exact blind spots of the ceiling cameras.”
Marco stared at me with newfound respect, blinking in surprise.
“She’s right, Boss,” Marco admitted quietly.
“Only three people outside of our immediate executive board had access to those exact floor layouts and security blind spots: Director Vance, Head of Logistics Sterling, and our chief procurement officer, Larson.”
Damian’s jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack.
“Marcus Sterling,” Damian murmured, his voice sounding like grinding stones.
“The same rat who has been trying to block my downtown real estate acquisition for the past six months.”
“Wait,” I interrupted, a sudden memory flashing in my mind from my orientation shifts at the restaurant weeks ago.
“Marcus Sterling... was he the tall man with the silver pocket watch who was arguing with the head chef near the kitchen back doors around five o’clock?”
Damian turned his head sharply toward me, stepping back to the edge of my bed.
“You saw him?”
“I didn't just see him,” I said, my memory clearing up the puzzle pieces.
“He was furious about something. He slammed his fist against the service cart and told the chef that if the deal didn't go through tonight, ‘Vescari would pay for it with blood.’”
The air in the VIP suite grew so heavy and dense it felt almost impossible to draw a full breath.
Damian slowly turned toward Marco.
“Bring Sterling to me,” Damian commanded softly, the quiet deadliness in his voice sending a cold shiver down my spine.
“Not to my office. Bring him to the private estate warehouse on the North Side.”
“Understood, Boss,” Marco said, turning briskly on his heel and walking out of the room like a ghost.
I stared up at Damian, suddenly realizing the terrifying scale of the war I had accidentally stepped into.
“You’re going after him yourself,” I stated, not a question.
“Sterling crossed a line that no man in this city survives crossing,” Damian replied flatly, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding intensity.
“He targeted my son. He brought violence into a room where children were sitting.”
He leaned down, placing his large, warm hand gently over my bandaged fingers resting on the white sheets.
For the first time, his touch was completely devoid of intimidation—it was steady, grounding, and fiercely protective.
“Which is precisely why you are not going back to your apartment when you’re discharged tomorrow, Emma.”
My eyes widened in stubborn refusal.
“Wait a minute! I never agreed to let you move me anywhere—”
“You don't have a choice,” Damian interrupted, his voice velvet steel.
“If Sterling’s mercenaries failed once, they will realize you are the living witness who can connect them to the hit.”
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He squeezed my hand firmly.
“You are coming with me to Vescari Manor, where my men can keep you safe until this war is over.”
