Chapter 5 - The Red FolderThe private office on the third floor was a fortress. Soundproofed walls, thick velvet drapes blocking out the gray afternoon sky, and a massive oak desk lined with encrypted monitors.
Maya stood by the side of the desk, holding a heavy red leather folder that Vincent had handed her five minutes ago. Her heart was racing, but she kept her hands steady.
"Open it," Vincent commanded, sitting back in his leather executive chair, watching her through narrowed eyes.
Maya unclasped the metal lock and opened the folder. Inside were financial statements, property deeds, and several high-resolution photographs of shipping containers at the city docks. But what made her breath hitch were the bold red stamps across every page: CONFIDENTIAL – CASTELLANO SYNDICATE.
"You want me to read your syndicate files?" Maya asked, looking up at him in disbelief. "Sir, if the commission or the Moretti family finds out you're showing these to a maid—"
"They won't find out unless you tell them," Vincent interrupted smoothly. "And I don't make mistakes about people, Maya. Last night, when you found that Moretti cufflink in the library, you didn't run to the guards. You didn't hide it. You brought it straight to me."
"I gave it to you because I didn't want to get murdered," she retorted, a flash of genuine spirit breaking through her professional facade.
A low, humorless chuckle escaped Vincent's lips. "Honest. I appreciate that. But let's be clear about your new position, Maya. You aren't just my assistant now. You are my proxy. Which means when the Moretti family sends their little messages, you are going to be the one who delivers my replies."
Before Maya could process the sheer weight of what he was saying, a sharp, frantic knock echoed at the heavy office door.
Without waiting for permission, the door burst open. It was Dr. Ethan Cole, the estate veterinarian, looking pale and completely breathless.
"Mr. Castellano," the doctor gasped, gripping the doorframe. "You need to come down to the north perimeter immediately. The delivery truck from the harbor... it just arrived. And it's not carrying medical supplies."
Vincent was out of his chair in a fraction of a second. His hand dropped instinctively to the heavy iron-handled drawer of his desk, sliding out a black 9mm pistol with terrifying familiarity. He didn't look at the doctor; his eyes locked onto Maya.
"Stay here," Vincent ordered, his voice sharp as a blade. "Lock the door behind me. If anyone knocks twice and whispers my name, don't open it for the world."
"Wait," Maya said, stepping forward before she could stop herself. "What's in the truck?"
May you like
Vincent paused at the doorway, turning his head slightly. The harsh hallway light caught the cold, unforgiving angle of his jaw.
"A warning from Victor Moretti," Vincent said quietly. "And judging by the smell of it... someone we both know is inside."
