Chapter 3 - The Intercepted Plea
Vincent dropped his ringing phone onto the floor, staring in absolute horror at the abandoned diamond ring resting next to his daughter’s fever medication.
"Claire, please," Vincent choked out, his chest heaving as the reality of his massive failure crushed the air out of his lungs. "My phone was on silent. I swear to God. If I had known she was in the hospital, I would have burned the city down to get to her."
Claire looked at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated disgust.
"She had a febrile seizure, Vincent," Claire stated, her voice shaking with residual trauma. "Her temperature spiked to a hundred and four. She collapsed on the bathroom floor and split her forehead open on the tiles. I carried her bleeding, seizing body to the car by myself. I drove her to the emergency room by myself. I held her down while they stitched her head by myself."
Vincent looked like he was going to be physically sick. "Claire..."
"I called your private cell twenty-seven times," Claire continued, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "I called the secure line that you swore you would always, always answer for your family."
"I didn't hear it," Vincent pleaded desperately. "I didn't get any calls!"
Claire didn't scream. She simply reached over to the nightstand, picked up her own smartphone, and unlocked the screen. She pulled up their text message thread and turned the screen around, shoving it toward his face.
"You didn't get the calls?" Claire asked, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Then who sent me this?"
Vincent’s blue-gray eyes scanned the glowing screen. His blood turned to absolute ice.
May you like
Sent from his own phone, exactly at 2:14 AM—while Emma was bleeding in the emergency room—was a single text message: Stop using the kid for attention. Do not disturb us.
👉 How will the mafia boss react when he realizes his mistress used his phone to risk his child's life?
