Chapter 4 - The Frame-Up
Z
The room went dead silent, save for the heavy breathing of the wounded guard.
"Accomplice?" I echoed, my voice barely a whisper. I stood up so fast the teacup on the table rattled against its saucer. "Accomplice to what?!"
Luca quickly stepped over to a computer terminal on the desk, his fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced speed. "They're leaking a story to the Metropolitan Gazette. They've fabricated financial transfers from an offshore account registered under your name, Cara."
"I don't have an offshore account!" I shouted, panic finally breaking through my composure. "I don't even have five hundred dollars in my checking account!"
"It doesn't matter what is real, Miss Fields," Luca said calmly, though his eyes were fixed grimly on the screen. "It matters what looks convincing on a front page. The narrative they are building is simple: You were Dante's insider. You tracked his movements, gave the signal to sabotaging his vehicle, and then staged a heroic 'rescue' to cover your tracks when the crash didn't kill him instantly."
I turned to Dante, my head spinning. "Tell me this is a joke. Tell me people don't actually believe this stuff!"
Dante didn't answer right away. He walked over to the desk, his eyes dark as thunder as he read the draft article displayed on the monitor.
"It's clever," Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Vanessa knows the police can't arrest me without starting an open war. But if she paints you as the perpetrator, the police will have no choice but to bring you in for questioning. Once you're in a holding cell... you become accessible."
"Accessible," I repeated, the horror dawning on me. "You mean she'll have me killed."
"She will make it look like a tragic suicide brought on by guilt," Dante said coldly. He turned to look at me, his gaze softening just a fraction. "I told you my father said gratitude shouldn't be a debt. But right now, you are paying for my survival with your life."
"So what do we do?" I asked, my knees shaking. "We go to the press? We tell them the truth?"
"The press prints what pays," Dante said. He walked over to a small safe hidden behind a wood panel on the wall, punched in a code, and pulled out a sleek silver laptop and a stack of encrypted hard drives. "We don't defend. We attack."
He looked at Luca. "Gather the captains. I want a full lockdown on the city docks and the transport hubs. If Vanessa tries to move her money or leave the state, I want to know before her driver even starts the engine."
"And Miss Fields?" Luca asked.
"She stays with me," Dante said firmly. "Every second."
"I am not going anywhere with you," I said, backing away toward the door. "This is insane! I saved your life! I should be at home, watching TV, worrying about my stupid radiator! Instead, I'm being framed for murder by a mafia prince's psycho wife!"
Dante walked up to me, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating from him. He reached out, his hand hovering over my shoulder before gently resting on the side of my neck, his thumb brushing against my racing pulse.
"You're right," he said softly, his voice cutting through my terror like a beacon. "You shouldn't be here. You deserved a normal, quiet life. But the moment you slid down that mountain, Cara, our lives became tied together. I am not going to let them hurt you. Do you hear me? Not her, not the police, not anyone."
I looked up into his dark eyes, searching for any sign of deception. All I saw was absolute, unwavering determination.
"Why?" I whispered. "Why do you care so much about a girl who served you espresso last week?"
Dante’s thumb traced my cheekbone, a gentle gesture that felt entirely out of place in a room filled with weapons and bloodied men. "Because in a world where everyone wants something from me, you were the only person who came down into the dark just to pull me out."
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Before I could process his words, a loud siren began to blare throughout the estate. The red emergency lights flashed against the marble walls, casting long, menacing shadows across the foyer.
Luca drew a sleek black handgun from beneath his jacket with practiced ease. "Dante. The perimeter line was just cut. They're inside the gates."
