Dropping my feet down, I lean forward, apprehension running through me for the first time. What has the little bitch done?
“Good afternoon. Breaking news just in. In what some believe could be a terrorist attack, a number of buildings were destroyed today. In what appears to be a coordinated effort, the buildings all exploded at exactly four p.m. An entire block in the Upper East Side went up in smoke, as the force of the explosions rocked the city. Further properties in Dutch Kills, Greenwich Village, Harlem, Jackson Heights, and Yonkers were also hit, meeting the same fate.”
Helicopter footage shows my properties, one by one, destroyed. My hands curl into fists, knowing I’ve just lost millions in prime real estate. They go on to show video taken by bystanders, jerky cell phone footage that shows the extent of the blasts and damage.
With a roar, I swipe my desk clean, then stomp around the room, my hands yanking at my hair. That fucking cunt. Who the hell is she working with that could have pulled this off?
Grabbing my cell phone, I dial the number of one of the detectives I pay handsomely for.
“Detective Frost.”
“This is Vincenzo Gianelli. I know who was responsible for the blasts around the city today. I want her brought to me, alive.”
“I have a lot on my plate right now, Mr. Gianelli. What’s in it for me?”
“Half a million.”
The line goes quiet, then he sighs. “Fine. Who was it, and where can I find them?”
“It was my daughter, Daniella. I’ll send you a photo. I don’t know where she’s staying right now, but I’m guessing it’s near the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan.”
“I’ll get right on it.” The line goes dead, and I growl as my email pings again.
Have you checked your bank accounts lately?
Dread slides through me, puddling in my feet. Pulling my phone out, I log into my main account, only to find a zero balance. Screaming obscenities in Italian, I pull up another account, then another. Every last one cleared out. I pound my fists on my desk, then remember the offshore account I set up years ago. A lump forms in my throat as I sign in, praying Daniella doesn’t know about this one.
All my breath leaves me as I lean back in my chair, eyes fluttering closed. After a moment, a smile begins to grow, getting wider as elation rushes through me. Ha! The little betrayer thought she could take everything from me. There’s only five million in the account, but I started with less, and I will bring it back up in no time.
The email pings again, and my mood sours. What now?
Check the news. Channel 6.
Sucking in a deep breath, I wade through the shattered remains of the items on my desk, searching for the remote. When I find it, I reluctantly click the television on, teeth clenched.
“In other news, the police, working with the FBI, have completed a year-long operation today, with the arrest of forty-seven drug dealers, all of whom claim to work for a man named Vincenzo Gianelli.”
A man wearing an FBI jacket appears on screen. “Thank you, Jennifer. We’ve suspected for some time now that Mr. Gianelli is, in fact, the head of the Gianelli Crime Family.” My picture comes on screen. “We have received evidence today that not only is he involved in drugs and weapons, but also in human trafficking. We have been able to link him to the traffickers that died in the London warehouse killings earlier this year.”
“How dangerous is this man?” Jennifer asks.
“Extremely. We advise the public to exercise the utmost caution. He is considered armed and dangerous. If you see him, please call the number on your screen. Do not approach or engage.”
The tv wavers then goes blank. I try other channels but only receive a storm warning. Fuck. The storm must be affecting the broadcasts.
My phone rings, and I bark a hello into it. “Mr. Gianelli, Detective Frost. I’m afraid I can no longer help you. The FBI is tearing through the precinct, arresting everyone they suspect of being paid off by you.” The phone goes dead, and for the first time in my life, I begin to truly panic.
She’s taken my home and safe houses. She’s taken my money. She’s taken my reputation, and now she’s going after everyone I’ve been paying off to keep me safe.
I eye the pistol sitting in the top drawer of my desk, tempted to run downstairs and put a bullet through the heads of her friends in retaliation. Swallowing down the ire that threatens to choke me, I back away from my desk.
If I kill them, she wins. I’ll have no way to control her. The email pings one last time, and I slump back into my chair before clicking on it.
Happy birthday, Daddy. Hope you’ve had a good one.
Refusing to rise to the bait, I revisit an earlier idea. And then my mouth twists into an ugly smile. It is my birthday, after all. I deserve a present. Pulling my laptop closer, I find the link Cesare showed me and click on it.
She wants to destroy my life? I’ll take her right down with me.
