Chapter 4 - The Betrayal of Bianca Vale
Down in the rain-slicked alleys behind the Bellmont Hotel, the air smelled of ozone, burning rubber, and stale grease.
Dominic Caruso shoved Bianca Vale against the damp brick wall of a loading dock, his hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her hysterical sobbing.
“Quiet!” Dominic hissed, scanning the dark mouth of the alley where the distant wail of sirens cut through the storm. “If they find us here, we’re dead before we hit the pavement.”
Bianca nodded frantically, tears carving clean tracks through the soot and makeup on her face. Dominic slowly dropped his hand, keeping his Sig Sauer ready as he checked the empty clip and slid a fresh magazine into the grip with a practiced click.
“Dominic,” she whimpered, shivering violently in her torn silver dress. “Your men... Viktor... they tried to kill us. Why? What did we do?”
Dominic turned his cold, piercing gaze toward her. In the dim amber glow of a flickering streetlamp, his eyes looked like chipped obsidian.
“They didn't try to kill us, Bianca,” Dominic said quietly. “They tried to kill me. And they used you to keep me in that hotel room so I wouldn't answer my father’s calls.”
Bianca blinked, her lower lip trembling. “What are you talking about? You think I planned this?”
“Did you?” Dominic asked.
The question hung in the alley like a blade pressed against an artery.
Bianca stared at him, and for a fraction of a second, the carefully constructed mask of innocence cracked completely. A flicker of guilt, unmistakable and damning, crossed her features.
Dominic saw it. Every instinct he had inherited from his father—every lesson in reading the micro-expressions of traitors across card tables and boardrooms—flared into life.
“You knew,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a terrifying, flat register. “My aunt Rosalind paid you to distract me. You were supposed to keep me out of the way while they engineered the corporate hostile takeover of the shipping lines.”
“No! Dominic, listen to me—!”
“Did you know they were going after my wife and son?” Dominic snarled, stepping into her personal space so fast she slammed back against the brick. The barrel of his gun pressed firmly against the hollow of her throat. “Did you know they were going to kill my baby?”
“I swear to God I didn't!” Bianca screamed, breaking down into ragged, hysterical sobs as she slid down the wall until she was sitting in the puddles of rainwater. “Rosalind said Evelyn would just leave! She said it would be a quiet divorce! They never told me about Viktor! They never told me anyone was going to die!”
Dominic stared down at her, a profound wave of disgust washing over him.
He had risked his marriage, his family’s honor, and his own soul for a woman who couldn't even summon the basic human decency to warn him when murder was on the table. She wasn't a mastermind; she was a rented accessory, a pawn in a game she was too small to understand, and she had traded his family’s blood for a penthouse and a trust fund.
“Get up,” Dominic commanded.
“Dominic, please... don't leave me here. They’ll find me. They’ll kill me too.”
“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be breathing right now,” Dominic spat, stepping back and holstering his weapon. “You wanted the high life, Bianca? You wanted to play in the big leagues with the Caruso name? Congratulations. You’re about to see what happens when the board flips.”
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. The screen was cracked, but the battery held. He dialed a number he hadn't called in three years—a burner line belonging to a retired federal marshal who owed his father an unpayable debt.
“Jerry,” Dominic said when the line picked up. “I need a transport out of the district and a secure safehouse in Montgomery County. And I need a secure burner phone wired directly into the Pennsylvania state police dispatch.”
“You’re a hard man to find tonight, son,” the old marshal’s voice crackled through the static. “Your father’s house is in an uproar. Word on the street is your boy made it, but your wife’s family just declared open season on the Camden Outfit.”
Dominic’s breath hitched. “My boy... he’s alive?”
“He’s alive, Dominic. And from what I hear, Evelyn handled the welcoming committee herself with a Glock 19.”
Dominic closed his eyes, a heavy, suffocating weight lifting from his chest, replaced immediately by an overwhelming wave of shame and fierce, burning determination.
May you like
“Where is she?” Dominic asked.
“Moving north toward the private airstrip,” Jerry replied. “And Dominic? If I were you, I wouldn't try to stop her. Right now, Evelyn Pierce isn't just your wife. She’s the most dangerous woman in Pennsylvania.”
