Chapter 3 - The Four-Month Plot
The security room in the basement of the Rossi estate was cold, quiet, and illuminated only by the blue glow of twelve wall-mounted monitors.
The paramedics had already treated my hand, wrapping my broken fingers in a rigid fiberglass splint, and applied a butterfly bandage to the cut on my cheek. They wanted to take me to the hospital, but I refused. I wasn't leaving until I knew what was happening to Lily.
Leo sat in a high-backed leather chair in front of the master terminal. I sat in a chair beside him, a warm blanket draped over my shoulders, holding a mug of sweet tea Frank Vance had forced into my hands.
Victoria stood in the corner of the room, flanked by two of Leo’s operators. Her high-society arrogance was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, hyperventilating panic.
"Play the file, Frank," Leo ordered.
Frank tapped the keyboard.
The center monitor flickered, displaying the high-definition feed from the kitchen camera recorded forty-five minutes earlier.
The timestamp read: 8:12 PM.
On the screen, Lily was sitting at the wooden table, holding a small glass of water. Her hand was visibly trembling. Victoria was standing over her, her face twisted in a cold, sneering scowl that none of us had ever seen before.
"Drink it without spilling, you pathetic little brat," Victoria’s voice came through the high-fidelity speakers crisp and clear. "If you drop one drop on this table, you won't see your father for a week."
Lily tried to lift the glass to her lips. Her fingers slipped. The glass hit the table, spilling water across the wooden surface.
On the screen, Victoria didn't hesitate. She slapped the seven-year-old girl across the face with the back of her hand.
Lily fell off her chair, hitting the floor, clutching her cheek, gasping for air as her chest began to heave in a sudden, violent panic attack.
In the basement security room, Leo Rossi’s knuckles turned white where he held the edge of the desk. The wood let out a faint, groaning squeak under the pressure of his grip.
On the screen, I ran into the frame wearing my apron. I picked Lily up, setting her on the counter, reaching for her pocket to check for her inhaler.
Victoria grabbed my hair from behind, shoving me back against the counter, then yanked Lily by her arm and dragged her toward the cellar door.
"She stays in the dark until she learns to behave," Victoria’s recorded voice echoed through the basement room.
"She can't breathe!" my voice rang out on the tape. "She needs her medicine!"
"She needs to die or disappear so Leo can focus on what matters," Victoria said on the video, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp venom. "He's weak because of her. Once we're married, she's going to a boarding school in Switzerland, and if she doesn't survive the trip, even better."
On the video, Victoria slammed the heavy iron cellar door shut, catching my fingers in the latch, and locked it.
The silence in the basement security room after the video ended was absolute.
Victoria collapsed against the wall, sobbing hysterically. "Leo! Please! I didn't mean it! I was stressed! She was driving me crazy! She’s always looking at me like she knows... I love you, Leo! We can fix this! My father can help you with the city zoning permits for your new shipping terminals! You need my family!"
Leo didn't turn around to look at her.
"Frank," Leo said, his voice flat, emotionless, and empty. "Is the second archive loaded?"
Frank hesitated, looking at me, then back at his boss. "Yes, Boss. We pulled the background audio logs from Miss Kensington's personal laptop and phone sync over the house Wi-Fi network dating back four months."
"Play it," Leo said.
Frank hit another key.
An audio file began to play. It was a recording of a phone call made three weeks earlier from Victoria's bedroom in the west wing.
The second voice on the call belonged to a man with a thick, raspy voice—a man I recognized immediately. Richard "The Hammer" Moretti, the leader of the rival Southside syndicate that had been at war with Leo’s family for five years.
"Are you sure the documents are in his private safe?" Moretti’s voice came through the speakers.
"I'm positive," Victoria’s voice replied, entirely calm, calculating, and cold. "I watched him put the ledger in the floor safe behind the painting in his study last Tuesday. Once the wedding is finalized and I have signature authority over his personal trust, I'll transfer the port authority deeds to your holding company."
"And the kid?" Moretti asked on the recording.
"The kid is an easy leverage point," Victoria answered smoothly. "If Leo gets difficult about the land transfer, a sudden medical emergency with his daughter will keep him occupied while we clear out his off-shore accounts. Don't worry about Leo, Richard. He thinks I'm his savior. He has no idea."
The recording stopped.
I sat in my chair, staring at the monitor, my breath caught in my throat.
She hadn't just abuse a child out of cruelty.
Victoria Kensington was a plant. She was an operative sent by the Moretti syndicate to infiltrate Leo Rossi’s inner circle, leverage his daughter's fragile health, steal his life's work, and destroy his family from the inside out.
Leo stood up from his chair slowly.
He turned around and walked over to where Victoria was lying on the floor, weeping.
He looked down at her for a long time—not with anger, not with hatred, but with a cold, terrifying disgust, as if he were looking at a dead rat on his doorstep.
"Your father is Judge Kensington," Leo said softly.
"Yes... yes!" Victoria gasped, looking up, desperately reaching for his shoe. "Leo, my father can fix everything! Just let me leave! I won't ever come back to Chicago! I'll tell Richard to cancel the operation!"
"Your father," Leo continued, ignoring her pleas, "was forced to resign from the bench four hours ago after federal agents raided his country club in Barrington. He was arrested for taking bribes from the Moretti family."
Victoria’s eyes widened in horror. "What... what?"
"You thought you were playing me, Victoria," Leo whispered, bending down until his face was inches from hers. "You thought I was a grieving widower who was too blind to see what you were doing. I knew Moretti sent you nine weeks ago."
Victoria went entirely pale. "You... you knew?"
"I let you stay in my house because I was using your phone calls to map Moretti's entire financial network," Leo said, his voice dropping into a razor-thin whisper. "I was going to arrest you and Moretti's men next Friday during a quiet federal raid."
He stood up, his jaw setting into a hard line.
"But you touched my daughter," Leo said. "And you broke Beatrice's hand."
He looked up at Frank Vance.
"Call the Federal Prosecutor," Leo ordered. "Tell him the deal is off. Hand over the audio files, the video footage, and the financial transfer logs. Victoria Kensington doesn't get a country club prison. She goes to the state penitentiary for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit extortion, and child abuse."
May you like
"No! Leo, please!" Victoria shrieked as Frank and two operators grabbed her by her arms, dragging her toward the door. "Please! Don't do this! Leo!"
Her screams faded as they pulled her up the concrete stairs, leaving the basement silent once again.
