Chapter 3 - Whispers in the MansionMy heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I stared at the illuminated screen, the text message burning into my retinas.
He killed your husband.
"What is it?" Michael’s voice cut through the air, sharp and alert. He picked up on my sudden terror instantly.
"Nothing," I stammered, shoving the phone into my pocket. "Just... an automated alert."
Michael eyed me suspiciously, his dark brows furrowing, but before he could press further, his head guard, Viktor, appeared at the nursery door. Viktor was a mountain of a man with a scar running from his ear down to his throat.
"Boss," Viktor said in a hushed, urgent tone. "We have a situation at the southern perimeter. Someone bypassed the sensors."
Michael’s posture shifted instantly from brooding father to lethal kingpin. He reached into his shoulder holster, pulled out a matte-black pistol, and checked the chamber with practiced efficiency.
"Stay in this room," Michael commanded, turning to me with a look of fierce protectiveness. "Lock the door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone except me. Do you understand?"
"Michael, what's going on?" I panicked, instinctually pulling Mia closer to my chest.
"Just do as I say!" he growled before ducking out into the hallway, Viktor right behind him.
The moment the door clicked shut, I locked it. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number that had sent the message.
It rang once. Twice. Then a raspy, distorted voice answered.
"Emily... you shouldn't be there."
"Who are you?!" I cried, tears spilling over my lashes. "Why did you send me that message? My husband died in a car accident!"
"It wasn't an accident," the voice hissed. "The truck that crossed the median on I-87? It belonged to a front company owned by Volkov Syndicate. Your husband was an investigative reporter, Emily. He found out about Volkov's human trafficking ring. Michael Volkov ordered the hit, but his men messed up and took your sons, too."
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"No... no, you're lying!" I sobbed, collapsing onto the velvet rug.
"Look in Michael's private study," the voice urged. "Bottom drawer of his desk. The red file labeled 'Project Phoenix'. See for yourself before he eliminates you, too."
