Chapter 3 - The Trap and the Video
Sloan unlocked the window latch and pushed the heavy glass panel upward.
The cool rain-scented air rushed into her cramped room.
"Julian?" Sloan whispered franticly. "What are you doing out there? If the night guards catch you near the staff quarters—"
"They won't," Julian said, his voice low and urgent. He pulled himself up on the window ledge, resting his elbows on the frame. "I just saw Fallon leave the east wing. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
"No," Sloan said, her eyes wide. She looked back at her small desk where the leather ledger lay open under the lamp. "Julian... I found something. Something terrible."
Julian’s eyes narrowed. He looked past her shoulder, spotting the yellowed pages of the heavy book.
"What is that?"
"It’s Elena Caruso’s private journal," Sloan whispered, stepping closer to the window. "She didn't die of an illness, Julian. She was poisoned by Sofia Caruso and Consigliere Vane. They’re stealing from Fallon, and they’re using Valentina."
Julian didn't look surprised. A grim, terrifying calm washed over his features.
"Aegis Logistics," Julian said softly.
Sloan stared at him. "How do you know that name?"
Julian pulled a dark leather wallet from his inner pocket, flipping it open. Inside was a silver metal badge and an ID card issued by the Waterfront Commission and Federal Bureau of Investigation.
SPECIAL AGENT JULIAN MERCER ORGANIZED CRIME TASK FORCE
Sloan took a sharp step back, her back hitting her small twin bed. "You’re... you’re a fed?"
"Listen to me, Sloan," Julian said urgently, his voice rich with authority and protective care. "I’ve been undercover in this estate for fourteen months. My uncle was an honest dock captain in Newark who was murdered three years ago when he refused to let Aegis Logistics clear containers without inspection. I knew Fallon Caruso’s empire was rotten, but I couldn't prove who was pulling the strings at the top."
He looked directly into her eyes.
"That ledger is the physical evidence we need to dismantle the entire operation and bring down Vane and Sofia."
Sloan’s mind reeled. "If you take that ledger to the feds... what happens to Fallon? What happens to Valentina?"
"Fallon goes to prison for his mob operations," Julian said bluntly. "But he won't go down for his wife's murder or federal treason. And Valentina... she gets taken away from Sofia before they destroy her completely."
Before Sloan could process his words, a loud, shrill alarm began to blare across the estate grounds.
WAAAH! WAAAH! WAAAH!
Red emergency floodlights flashed outside the window, painting the garden in crimson light.
"What's happening?" Sloan panicked.
Julian looked over his shoulder toward the main driveway. His smartphone buzzed violently in his pocket. He pulled it out, looking at the screen.
His eyes widened. "Damn it."
"What is it?!"
"Someone leaked the video," Julian gasped.
"What video?"
"The video of Valentina tripping you and making you crawl on the dining room floor," Julian said, his voice laced with shock. "I uploaded it to an encrypted federal backup server two hours ago... but someone breached the server and posted it to social media. It just went viral. It has three million views in forty minutes."
Sloan felt the world tilt beneath her feet.
Outside, heavy leather boots began to thunder down the stone steps leading toward the basement staff quarters.
"Search every maid’s room!" a harsh, gravelly voice barked from the corridor—Consigliere Victor Vane’s voice. "Find that girl! Mr. Caruso wants her brought to the main hall immediately!"
Julian reached through the window, grabbing Sloan’s shoulder. "Sloan! Give me the ledger! If Vane finds it on you, he will kill you right here!"
"No!" Sloan said, tears springing to her eyes as she clutched the ledger to her chest. "If I give it to you now, Vane will frame me for leaking the video and stealing from the house! They’ll take my mother’s insurance away before sunrise!"
"Sloan, please!"
"Go, Julian!" Sloan pushed him back toward the garden. "Get out before they see you! I know what I have to do!"
Julian hesitated, his eyes torn between his duty as a federal agent and the desperate girl standing in front of him.
"I won't let them hurt you," Julian swore fiercely. "I’ll be in the main hall."
He dropped from the window frame and vanished into the rain-drenched shadows of the rose garden just as the heavy lock on Sloan’s door was violently kicked open!
BANG!
The wooden door slammed against the wall.
Consigliere Victor Vane—a tall, sharp-featured man fifty years old with cold blue eyes, wearing a gray tailored suit—stepped into her room. Behind him stood two massive, armed security guards.
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In Vane’s hand was his glowing smartphone, displaying the viral video of Sloan crawling on the marble floor.
"Well, well, Miss Brennan," Vane purred, a dark, lethal smile spreading across his face. "It seems you’ve made our family very famous tonight. Mr. Caruso would like a word."
