Chapter 5
The knock at the door came just after midnight.
My security team was already moving before I reached the hallway, weapons drawn, voices low and urgent.
“It’s Carter men,” one of them said. “Vincent’s people.”
My heart pounded as I clutched my son tighter.
The door opened, and Vincent stood there, out of breath, eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.
“Madison,” he breathed, relief and fear tangled together in his voice.
“How did you find me?” I asked, stepping back instinctively.
“That doesn’t matter right now,” he said. “You’re not safe here. The Morettis know you left. They know you’re vulnerable.”
“And whose fault is that?” I snapped.
He didn’t argue. He couldn’t.
“I know what Vanessa did,” he said quietly. “I know everything.”
I studied his face, searching for the lie I expected to find. It wasn’t there.
“She used you,” I said. “She used all of us.”
“I let her,” Vincent admitted. “And it almost cost me you. And our son.”
Outside, headlights swept across the window, and my security chief’s voice cut through the tension.
“Movement outside the perimeter. Multiple vehicles.”
Vincent’s expression hardened instantly, the mafia boss replacing the broken husband in a single breath.
“Get Madison and the baby to the safe room,” he ordered his men. “Now.”
“I’m not hiding while you fight my battles for me,” I said.
“This isn’t about pride, Madison,” he said. “This is about our son.”
For the first time in fifteen days, I let him lead me, not because I forgave him, but because he was right.
Gunfire cracked somewhere outside, sharp and sudden, freezing the air in my lungs.
Vincent shoved me gently toward the hallway. “Go. I’ll handle this.”
“Vincent—”
“I let you down once already,” he said, eyes locking onto mine. “Not again.”
I disappeared into the safe room with my son, my hands shaking as I bolted the door behind me.
Through the thick walls, I could hear shouting, footsteps, the controlled chaos of men trained for exactly this.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours.
Then, silence.
A knock. Three slow taps, then two. Our old signal from years ago.
I opened the door to find Vincent standing there, blood on his sleeve but alive, and behind him, two of his men escorting a furious, restrained Vanessa Reed.
