Chapter 6 - THE CELL BLOCK
The concrete walls of the county holding cell were freezing cold.
Sophie sat on a hard metal bench, her arms wrapped protectively around her swollen belly. She was shivering, terrified, and completely alone.
It had happened so fast.
One minute, she had been reading to Nicholas in the penthouse. The next, the door had been battered down by a SWAT team. They hadn't listened to Matteo. They hadn't cared that Nicholas was crying, trying to reach out for Sophie as they wheeled him away.
“She’s a dangerous woman who kidnapped my incapacitated father,” Antonio had smoothly told the police captain on the scene, waving his forged Power of Attorney documents.
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears.
Her baby kicked hard against her ribs, a stark reminder of what she stood to lose. If she was convicted of a felony, child services would take Daisy the moment she was born.
The heavy metal door of the cell block clanged open.
“Miller!” a female guard barked, rattling the bars. “You’ve got a visitor. Interview room three.”
Sophie stood up on shaky legs.
She followed the guard down a long, fluorescent-lit hallway. She expected to see a public defender. She expected a bored lawyer telling her to plead guilty.
But when she walked into the small interview room, her breath caught in her throat.
Sitting at the metal table, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that looked completely out of place in a jail, was Vincent Bellini.
He stood up immediately as she entered.
“Sophie,” he breathed, his dark eyes instantly scanning her for injuries. “Did they hurt you?”
“No,” Sophie whispered, sitting down across from him. “I’m okay.”
Vincent sat down, leaning across the table. His presence was overwhelming, a dark, protective force in the sterile room.
“I’m getting you out of here,” Vincent said, his voice low and intense. “My lawyers are posting your bail right now. You’ll be released in twenty minutes.”
Tears finally spilled over Sophie’s eyelashes. “Thank you. I was so scared they were going to take my baby.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened at the mention of the child. He reached across the metal table, his large, tattooed hand covering her trembling fingers.
“Nobody is taking your child, Sophie. You are under my protection.”
His touch was warm, grounding her in the nightmare.
“What about your father?” she asked, wiping her eyes with her free hand. “Antonio took him back to the estate.”
Vincent’s expression darkened into pure, lethal rage.
“Antonio thinks he won,” Vincent said. “He thinks because he has the police on his side with that fake paperwork, I can't touch him without starting a war with the Feds.”
“Can you?” Sophie asked nervously.
“I don't need to fight the Feds,” Vincent said smoothly. “I just need to expose the rat in Antonio’s house.”
Sophie frowned. “Who?”
“Mrs. Hargrove.”
Vincent leaned back in his chair.
“She’s the weak link, Sophie. She knows everything. She knows about the paralytic drug. She knows about the stolen jewelry. If she testifies, Antonio’s entire legal facade crumbles.”
“But she’s loyal to Antonio,” Sophie pointed out.
“She’s loyal to money,” Vincent corrected. “And survival. Right now, she thinks Antonio is the safer bet.”
The door to the interview room opened. A guard poked his head in.
“Bail is processed, Mr. Bellini. She’s free to go.”
Vincent stood up, offering his hand to Sophie.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go get my father back.”
They walked out of the police station into the bright Chicago morning. A sleek black SUV was waiting at the curb, surrounded by four of Vincent’s heavily armed guards.
Once they were inside the car, Vincent handed Sophie a cup of hot tea from a thermos.
“Drink,” he ordered gently.
She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her chest.
“How are we going to get Mrs. Hargrove to talk?” Sophie asked.
Vincent looked out the tinted window at the passing city.
“We aren't,” he said. “You are.”
Sophie nearly choked on her tea. “Me? Sir, she hates me.”
“Exactly,” Vincent said, turning to look at her. “She hates you because you stood up to her. But she also underestimates you. She thinks you’re just a naive, pregnant maid.”
“I am a pregnant maid,” Sophie pointed out nervously.
Vincent smiled faintly. “Not anymore.”
He pulled a small, high-tech recording device from his suit pocket. It was no bigger than a button.
“Antonio is hosting a ‘welcome home’ gala at the estate tonight to celebrate his return to high society,” Vincent explained. “He’s invited half the city's politicians to show off his new wealth. Mrs. Hargrove will be managing the catering staff.”
He handed the small device to Sophie.
“I’m going to get you inside the house. I need you to corner her. Tell her you know about the stolen jewelry buried under the roses. Tell her you’ll go to the police unless she pays you off.”
Sophie stared at the device. “You want me to blackmail her?”
“I want you to make her panic,” Vincent said. “When she panics, she’ll confess to everything on tape to prove Antonio forced her to do it.”
Sophie looked down at her swollen belly. She was terrified. But then she thought of Nicholas. She thought of the old man crying in his wheelchair, completely at the mercy of a son who wanted him dead.
She looked up at Vincent, her eyes hardening.
“I’ll do it.”
Vincent’s dark eyes filled with profound respect.
“You are a brave woman, Sophie Miller.”
That evening, the Bellini estate was transformed.
String lights hung from the oak trees. Classical music drifted across the manicured lawns. Wealthy politicians and socialites drank champagne on the stone terrace, completely unaware of the dark secrets buried beneath the roses.
Sophie slipped through the servant’s entrance, wearing a generic black catering uniform Vincent had procured. Her pregnant belly made it slightly tight, but it allowed her to blend in perfectly.
She moved quickly through the bustling kitchen, keeping her head down.
She found Mrs. Hargrove in the pantry, aggressively organizing a tray of hors d'oeuvres.
Sophie stepped inside and locked the door behind her.
Mrs. Hargrove spun around, her eyes widening in absolute shock.
“You!” the housekeeper hissed. “How did you get in here? The police—”
“The police let me go, Martha,” Sophie said, her voice surprisingly steady. She stood tall, refusing to let the older woman intimidate her anymore.
“I’m calling security,” Mrs. Hargrove sneered, reaching for her radio.
“Call them,” Sophie challenged. “And while they drag me out, I’ll tell everyone at the gala exactly where you hid Mrs. Bellini’s diamonds.”
Mrs. Hargrove froze, her hand hovering over the radio.
“You don't know anything,” she stammered, her face turning pale.
“I know Vincent dug them up,” Sophie said, stepping closer. “I know you buried them under the yellow roses. And I know the police haven't found them yet because Vincent took them.”
Mrs. Hargrove swallowed hard.
“What do you want?” she asked nervously.
“I want fifty thousand dollars,” Sophie lied smoothly, her heart pounding. “Or I go to the police and testify that you stole them.”
“I didn't steal them!” Mrs. Hargrove panicked, her voice rising. “Antonio made me do it! He told me to report them stolen so he could claim the insurance money to fund his return! He forced me to bury them because he didn't want them in the house!”
Sophie pressed the hidden button on her collar, capturing every word.
“And the drugs?” Sophie pressed. “The blue pills?”
“That was his idea too!” Mrs. Hargrove cried, completely breaking down. “He bought the paralytic from a black-market chemist in Europe. He said if the old man was paralyzed, nobody would question the dementia diagnosis! I just gave him the pills! I didn't want to hurt him!”
Sophie felt a sickening wave of disgust wash over her.
She had what she needed.
“Thank you, Martha,” Sophie said quietly.
She turned to unlock the door.
But as her hand touched the handle, the heavy wood was violently kicked open from the outside.
Sophie stumbled backward, crying out as she hit the metal shelving.
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Standing in the doorway, wearing a pristine white tuxedo, was Antonio Bellini.
And he was holding a silenced pistol.
