Chapter 10 - Cracks in the Fortress
The bliss of that night carried over into the following week. I had officially moved into Vincent’s private estate—a sprawling, walled compound on the cliffs overlooking the bay. For the first time in years, I felt cherished. Every morning began with breakfast prepared to my liking, every evening ended with quiet conversations by the fireplace, where Vincent shed his ruthless persona and showed me the wounded, fiercely loyal soul underneath.
Yet, a kingdom cannot remain peaceful when its king drops his armor.
It began with subtle shifts. Marcus was constantly on the phone, his face pale and anxious. Guards were doubled along the estate perimeter, their rifles no longer concealed beneath jackets. Vincent spent more hours locked in his study, the sound of raised, angry voices filtering through the heavy oak door.
On a rainy Thursday afternoon, I brought a fresh pot of coffee up to his study, hoping to ease the tension that had settled over the household.
As I reached the door, which stood slightly ajar, Marcus’s frantic voice stopped me cold.
"...it’s the Moretti syndicate, boss," Marcus was saying, his tone laced with dread. "They know about the diner. They know about the gala. Salvatore Moretti has been looking for a weak point in your armor for ten years, and now he thinks he’s found it."
"She is not a weak point," Vincent snapped, his voice vibrating with lethal venom.
"To us, she is your heart, sir," Marcus pressed cautiously. "To Moretti, she is a target. And worse... Tyler is talking."
My breath caught in my throat. I stood frozen outside the door.
"Tyler?" Vincent demanded. "I told your men to ensure he was put on a bus out of state."
"He never left, boss," Marcus replied grimly. "Moretti’s men intercepted him at the terminal. Tyler was desperate, broke, and bitter. He told Moretti everything he knew about Emily’s routines, her family, her habits. Moretti has given him twenty thousand dollars and a promise of protection in exchange for her location."
A heavy silence followed. Then came the sound of a fist slamming against the mahogany desk with terrifying force.
"Find Tyler," Vincent commanded, his voice deadly and cold. "Find him before sunset. Put an extra team on Emily. If so much as a stray fly crosses the gates of this estate, slaughter it."
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I took a trembling step backward, the ceramic coffee cup rattling against the saucer in my hands. The reality of Vincent's world was crashing down upon us, and the target was painted squarely on my back.
***
