Chapter 2 - The Midnight CallVincent DeLuca did not sleep that night.
After stumbling through the remainder of the gala—making awkward, forced excuses to panicked investors who had witnessed the public spectacle—he returned to the penthouse on Central Park West expecting to find Evelyn waiting with an apology.
The penthouse was dead silent.
Her closet was half-empty. Not all at once—she had been quietly removing her most personal belongings for weeks—but enough that the walk-in felt hollow. The vanity was clear of her perfumes, her skincare bottles, and the small porcelain dish where she always dropped her earrings.
"Evelyn?" he called out, his voice echoing off the marble floors.
No answer.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, his hand still faintly trembling. He hated losing control. The image of the twenty-four pearls scattering across the floor flashed through his mind, irritating him like an itch he couldn't scratch. It’s just a necklace, he told himself, swirling the amber liquid. She’ll get over it. She always does.
His cell phone buzzed violently on the glass coffee table.
It was a restricted number. Vincent frowned, picking it up. "DeLuca."
"Boss," a voice hissed through the receiver. It was Frankie, his chief enforcer at the New Jersey docks. Frankie sounded panicked, breathing heavily. "We got a massive problem."
"Speak plain, Frankie. What is it?"
"The dawn payroll drop didn't clear. The union reps are outside the main office right now, screaming bloody murder. They’re saying if the wire transfers don't hit by 6:00 AM, the crews walk off the piers. That’s three hundred containers sitting offloaded and unpaid."
Vincent scoffed, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline. "What do you mean it didn't clear? Call the corporate bank. Tell them to push the override on Account Four-Zero-Nine-Two."
There was a long, terrifying pause on the other end of the line.
"Boss... I did call them," Frankie stammered, his voice cracking. "The corporate compliance manager said the account doesn't recognize our credentials anymore. They said... they said the primary administrative rights were revoked thirty minutes ago by an executive override."
Vincent’s grip on the whiskey glass tightened so fast the crystal nearly fractured. "Revoked? By who? I’m the sole owner!"
"They wouldn't give me a name, Vincent. They just said the master key came from a secure terminal registered to Vanguard Holdings."
The phone went dead.
Vincent lowered the phone slowly, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure, cold rage. Vanguard Holdings. That was the corporate umbrella Evelyn managed. She handled the compliance audits, the backend structuring, the corporate filings.
He threw the whiskey glass against the wall. It shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, staining the white drywall dark amber.
"Evelyn," he snarled, his voice vibrating through the empty penthouse.
May you like
He pulled up her number and hit dial. It rang twice before going straight to voicemail. He tried again. Straight to voicemail.
For the first time in his life, cold, paralyzing dread crept up Vincent’s spine. He wasn't dealing with a weeping wife anymore. He was dealing with a corporate executioner.
