Chapter 7 - THE BOY IN THE PENTHOUSE
The dial tone hummed like a flatline.
Rafael dropped the phone. For a second, he looked entirely broken—a man who had just realized his empire was built on sand. Then, a terrifying, lethal calm washed over him.
He didn't yell. He didn't curse. He simply turned back to Celeste, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her against the wall so hard a framed painting crashed to the floor.
“If one hair on that boy’s head is harmed,” Rafael whispered, his voice vibrating with pure, murderous intent, “I will not just kill you, Celeste. I will skin your family name from the history of this city.”
Celeste gagged, her face turning purple, her manic smile finally faltering as true terror set in.
“Rafe,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Don't kill her. We need her. Marco works for her. If she tells him to stand down, Ben lives.”
Rafael held her for one second longer, then threw her to the ground. She collapsed, gasping for air and clutching her throat.
“Call him,” Rafael ordered, kicking her phone across the floor toward her. “Now.”
Celeste’s hands shook as she picked up the phone. She dialed, her eyes darting between Rafael and the gun I still held loosely by my side.
“Marco,” she rasped when he answered. “Don't hurt the boy. Bring him to the warehouse on 4th Street. I have… a change of plans.”
“Understood, Miss Whitmore,” Marco replied. “We’re leaving the penthouse now. Oh, and the old lady is still in the trunk of your car.”
He hung up.
Rafael didn't waste a second. “The keys to your car,” he demanded, holding out his hand.
Celeste fumbled in her designer coat and tossed him the keys.
“Watch her, Father,” Rafael said coldly, not even glancing at Vincenzo. “If she moves, shoot her.”
He grabbed his father’s spare revolver from the bedside table drawer and tossed it onto the bed. Vincenzo, despite his weakness, gripped the gun with his good hand, pointing it dead at Celeste.
“Let’s go,” Rafael said to me.
We sprinted out of the medical wing and into the pouring rain. Celeste’s silver Mercedes was parked near the fountain.
Rafael popped the trunk.
Inside, bound and gagged with duct tape, was Teresa. The elderly housekeeper looked pale and terrified, but she was breathing.
I helped her sit up, carefully peeling the tape from her mouth. “Teresa, I’m so sorry.”
“Nora,” she sobbed, clutching my hands. “I told them nothing. They wanted to know if you had documents. I told them nothing.”
“You’re safe now,” Rafael said, untying her wrists. “Go inside. My father is in the medical wing. He has a gun. Lock the doors.”
Teresa nodded, scrambling out of the trunk and hurrying toward the house.
Rafael threw himself into the driver’s seat. I jumped into the passenger side. The tires squealed as he floored it, tearing down the winding driveway.
“He’s taking him to the 4th Street warehouse,” Rafael said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “It’s an old Whitmore shipping facility. They’re going to use Ben as leverage to force me to sign over the DeLuca assets.”
“Can we call the police?” I asked, feeling foolish the moment the words left my mouth.
Rafael shot me a look. “The police work for the Whitmores, too. Tonight, this ends in blood.”
I looked down at my hands. Yesterday, I was worrying about scrubbing marble floors without leaving streaks. Tonight, I was speeding through the rain with a mafia boss to rescue a child from assassins.
“I’m scared,” I admitted quietly.
Rafael’s foot remained heavy on the gas, but his expression softened just a fraction. “Evelyn Carter raised a brave woman. You didn't run when you found out who I was. You didn't run when Celeste pulled a gun. You won't run now.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the heavy gold ring he had found in Evelyn’s sewing box. He handed it to me.
“Keep this,” he said.
I looked at it. “Why?”
“It’s the family signet,” Rafael said, his eyes fixed on the wet road ahead. “If something happens to me tonight, that ring proves to our captains that you speak for the family. It means you are under their protection. They will keep you and Ben safe.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” I said, my voice shaking. “We just found each other.”
Rafael offered a sad, half-smile. “I spent twenty-nine years thinking I was an only child in a house full of ghosts. Knowing I have a sister… knowing my mother didn't betray my father… that’s enough for me, Nora. But I failed Leo. I will not fail his son.”
We skidded to a halt a block away from the warehouse. It was a massive, rusted corrugated steel building by the docks. There were two black SUVs parked out front.
Rafael pulled his gun, checking the magazine. “Stay in the car. Keep the doors locked.”
“No,” I said, opening my door. “Ben trusts me. If bullets start flying, he’s going to panic. I need to be the one to grab him.”
Rafael opened his mouth to argue, but he saw the fierce determination in my eyes. He nodded once.
We moved silently through the rain, slipping through a side door that had been left ajar.
Inside, the warehouse was cavernous and dark, lit only by a few harsh overhead work lights.
In the center of the room, tied to a wooden chair, was little Ben. He was crying silently, his small shoulders shaking.
Standing around him were Marco and three other heavily armed men.
Rafael motioned for me to stay behind a stack of shipping crates. He stepped out into the open.
“Marco!” Rafael’s voice boomed through the warehouse.
The men spun around, raising their weapons.
“Boss,” Marco said, looking surprised. “You weren't supposed to be here yet.”
“Let the boy go, Marco,” Rafael said, walking slowly toward them, his hands at his sides, his gun hidden behind his leg. “This is between me and Celeste. The boy has no part in this.”
“Sorry, Rafe,” Marco sneered. “Miss Whitmore offered us ten million to make sure the DeLuca bloodline ends tonight. And you just walked right into the slaughter.”
Marco raised his gun, aiming directly at Rafael’s chest.
Before he could pull the trigger, a voice rang out from the catwalk above.
“Drop it, Marco.”
Everyone froze.
I looked up. Standing on the metal catwalk, holding a high-powered rifle, was a man I hadn't seen since the party.
It was Leo.
May you like
Ben’s dead father.
TITLE: The Ghost On The Catwalk
