Chapter 7 - The Frame-Up In The Safe House
The kitchen in the Valenti mansion felt as cold as a morgue.
I stared at the clear plastic bag in Alessandro’s hand. The little blue sweater with the crooked white star—the symbol of my heartbreak, the only tangible proof of my lost baby—was now a calling card for murder.
“Why would someone frame me?” I asked, my voice trembling so violently I could barely speak. “I don’t even know where the safe house is. I couldn’t have shot him.”
Rosa Valenti crossed her arms, her severe expression turning deeply analytical.
“The police won’t care what you know, Claire,” Rosa said bluntly. “Your husband stole millions of dollars, forged your signature, kidnapped your biological child, and tried to have you killed by the Russian mob. You have the most glaring, airtight motive for murder I have ever seen.”
I pulled Samuel tighter against my chest, as if holding him could shield us both from the nightmare closing in.
Alessandro tossed the plastic bag onto the marble counter next to the marriage license.
“The police aren’t the problem, Mother,” Alessandro said, his eyes narrowing. “My men will clean the safe house before the cops ever get a sniff of the body. The problem is the Commission.”
Marco, the security chief, nodded grimly. “Boss is right. If David is dead, we don’t have a peace offering for the Volkovs tomorrow at noon. And if the Volkovs find out a Valenti shot their thief before they could get their money back, they’ll say we ordered the hit to keep the stolen money for ourselves.”
Alessandro began pacing the massive kitchen, his mind working in overdrive.
“Someone inside my crew wanted David dead,” Alessandro muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. “Someone who knew exactly where Marco stashed him. Someone who wanted to ensure a war with the Volkovs.”
“Who benefits from a war with the Russians?” Rosa asked, her voice sharp.
Alessandro stopped pacing. He looked directly at Marco.
“Who was guarding the basement door?” Alessandro demanded.
Marco swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. “It was Leo, Boss. But Leo is gone. He abandoned his post. We can’t find him anywhere.”
Alessandro’s face hardened into a mask of pure, lethal fury. “Find him. Tear the city apart if you have to. I want Leo alive.”
Marco nodded and sprinted out of the kitchen, shouting orders into his radio.
I sat frozen on the barstool. The adrenaline that had kept me moving for the last four hours was crashing, leaving me dizzy and nauseous.
I looked at the marriage license resting on the counter.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, tears spilling hot and fast down my cheeks. “I’m a dental receptionist. Yesterday, my biggest problem was deciding what to cook for dinner. Today, my husband is dead, I’m holding a stolen baby, and I’m being framed for a mafia hit.”
I looked up at Alessandro, my eyes pleading.
“Just let me leave. Give me some cash, let me take Samuel, and I’ll disappear. I’ll change my name. They’ll never find me.”
Alessandro walked over to me. He didn’t offer false comfort. He didn’t tell me it was going to be okay. He gave me the brutal, terrifying truth.
“You can’t run, Claire,” Alessandro said quietly. “The Volkovs have your name. They have your face. They have the LLC paperwork linking you to their stolen money. If you walk out that door, you’ll be dead before the sun comes up. And they won’t spare the child.”
A sob tore from my throat. I buried my face in Samuel’s blanket.
“Then what do I do?” I cried.
Alessandro picked up the pen resting next to the marriage license. He held it out to me.
“You marry me,” he said.
I stared at the pen as if it were a snake. “How does marrying a mafia boss save me from the mafia?”
“Because the Five Families respect the hierarchy,” Rosa interjected, stepping closer. “If you are a Morgan, you are a loose end. A civilian thief who stole from the Russians. If you are a Valenti—my son’s wife—you are untouchable without a unanimous vote from the Commission.”
Rosa pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the document.
“If you walk into that sit-down tomorrow at noon as his wife,” she said, “Victor Volkov cannot demand your life as payment. He can only demand a financial settlement from Alessandro.”
“And I will pay it,” Alessandro promised, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “I will give them their two million dollars out of my own pocket. I will buy your freedom, Claire.”
I looked at him. The broad shoulders, the tailored suit, the tattoos marking him as a man of violence.
“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Why are you doing this for me? I ruined your family dinner. I brought the Russians to your doorstep. Why are you risking a war for me?”
Alessandro didn’t answer right away. He looked down at Samuel, who was cooing softly in his sleep.
Then, he looked back at me.
“Thirteen years ago, my father arranged a marriage for me,” Alessandro said softly, the memory bringing a deep, lingering pain to his eyes. “Her name was Sofia. She was kind, innocent, and completely out of place in our world. I promised to protect her.”
He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.
“I failed,” Alessandro whispered. “The Russians hit my car while we were leaving a restaurant. I survived. She didn’t.”
He reached out, his knuckles gently brushing the edge of the marriage license.
“I couldn’t save her,” Alessandro said, his voice thick with a decade of suppressed grief. “But I can save you. And I can save this boy. Let me do this, Claire.”
Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t know this man. I didn’t know his world. But I knew that for the first time in thirteen years, a man was telling me the truth.
I took the pen from his hand.
My hand shook violently as I pressed the tip to the paper. I signed my name below his.
Claire Valenti.
The moment I lifted the pen, the kitchen doors burst open again.
It was Elena.
She looked entirely unhinged. Her beautiful hair was a tangled mess, her cream-colored dress stained with spilled wine and dirt. She was breathing heavily, her eyes darting frantically around the room.
“Elena, what are you doing here?” Rosa demanded, stepping toward her daughter. “You were supposed to stay in your suite!”
Elena ignored her mother. She locked eyes with me.
Then, she looked at the black duffel bag of Volkov money on the counter.
“Did he tell you?” Elena asked, her voice a hysterical, high-pitched laugh. She pointed a shaking finger at Alessandro. “Did my perfect brother tell you the real reason he’s protecting you, Claire?”
Alessandro stepped between us, shielding me from her manic gaze. “Elena, go upstairs. Now.”
“No!” Elena screamed, tears streaming down her face. She pushed past him, slamming her hands onto the marble counter, right next to the marriage license.
She looked at my signature.
“Oh, God,” Elena laughed bitterly. “You actually signed it. You think he’s your savior.”
“He saved my life,” I said defensively, pulling Samuel closer.
“He’s the reason your life was destroyed!” Elena yelled, her face contorting with grief and rage.
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a thick, leather-bound ledger book. She slammed it onto the counter next to the duffel bag.
“I went to David’s office while you were running from the Russians,” Elena sobbed. “I wanted to see the truth for myself. I found his private accounting books.”
She flipped the ledger open to a page dated four years ago.
The exact month I miscarried.
“Read it, Claire,” Elena whispered, her voice breaking.
I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the meticulous handwriting.
Payment received: $200,000.Client: Valenti Syndicate.Service: Laundering.
I stopped breathing.
I looked up at Alessandro. His face had gone completely pale. The invincible mafia boss suddenly looked like he had been shot.
“David didn’t launder that first two hundred thousand for the Russians,” Elena said, crying uncontrollably. “He laundered it for Alessandro. My brother was David’s first client.”
I stumbled backward, hitting the refrigerator.
“You?” I whispered, staring at Alessandro in absolute horror.
“Claire, wait,” Alessandro pleaded, stepping toward me with his hands raised. “I didn’t know he was stealing from your savings to cover the initial drops. I swear to you, I didn’t know he poisoned you to hide the missing funds!”
“You hired him!” I screamed, the betrayal tearing my heart in two. “The money he used to murder my baby... the money he owed... it was yours!”
I looked at the marriage license I had just signed.
I hadn’t married my savior.
I had just married the man who funded the death of my first child.
Before I could run, Marco burst through the kitchen doors again, holding a bleeding, beaten man by the collar.
It was Leo, the missing guard.
“Found him, Boss,” Marco grunted, throwing Leo onto the floor. “He was trying to board a bus to Detroit.”
Leo groaned, clutching his ribs. He looked up at Alessandro, terrified.
“Who paid you to kill David and frame Claire?” Alessandro demanded, his voice a lethal roar that shook the kitchen.
Leo coughed up blood, pointing a shaking finger toward the corner of the room.
“She did,” Leo gasped.
May you like
I turned around.
Standing in the doorway, holding Alessandro’s forgotten pistol leveled directly at my chest, was Rosa Valenti.
