Chapter 302
[ 482 words ]
Chapter 302:
A cheap, untraceable burner phone sat on the desk. It suddenly vibrated violently, shattering the quiet elegance of the room.
Cornelia snatched it up instantly. She pressed the cheap plastic to her ear. She demanded a status report in a hushed, harsh whisper.
On the other end of the line, Vinnie “The Weasel” Costello spoke loudly. The heavy background noise of a truck stop diner, clinking plates and roaring engines, nearly drowned out his voice.
Vinnie casually informed her that the job was done. “It was way bigger than you said, a real mess. News is saying it’s critical, maybe fatal. That kind of heat costs extra.”
Cornelia’s blood ran ice cold. Her stomach dropped. She had ordered a severe injury to distract Caroline and break her spirit, not a high-profile, fatal car crash.
She furiously whispered into the phone. She stated that murder was absolutely not part of the contract. Her voice trembled with suppressed panic and rage.
Vinnie laughed. It was a greasy, chilling sound that scraped against her nerves. He stated flatly that since the job escalated to a homicide, the price just went up significantly.
He demanded two million dollars in untraceable offshore funds. He wanted the money wired immediately to cover his permanent relocation to South America.
𝘛h𝗲 𝗆оѕ𝗍 𝘱𝗈𝗽ul𝖺𝗋 𝘯𝗈𝘷𝗲𝗹s o𝗇 𝗀𝘢lոo𝘷𝘦𝘭ѕ.𝖼𝗼𝗆
Cornelia refused instantly. She threatened to cut all ties and deny everything.
Vinnie countered without missing a beat. He threatened to hand the encrypted emails and payment trails directly to the FBI. He reminded her that a federal murder charge would destroy her pristine reputation and send her to a federal prison for the rest of her life.
Cornered and desperate, Cornelia gripped the edge of the desk. She gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached. She agreed to the extortion, demanding exactly twenty-four hours to secure and move the funds.
She hung up the burner phone. Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the plastic device. It bounced off the desk and landed softly on the expensive Persian carpet.
The scene cut sharply back to the stark, sterile on-call room at Washington United Medical Center.
Caroline’s eyes snapped open. For three agonizing seconds, she was completely disoriented. She stared at the white acoustic ceiling tiles and felt the scratchy blanket against her neck.
Then the crushing weight of reality slammed into her chest like a physical blow. Her mother was dead. The memory of the cold morgue rushed back, stealing the air from her lungs.
She sat up abruptly. A wave of intense nausea and dizziness washed over her. Her blood sugar had crashed completely, leaving her head spinning and her stomach churning.
The door clicked open. Brenna walked in. She was exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, but she was awake. She held a small paper plate with a single piece of dry toast.
Her best friend looked ten years older. Her eyes were swollen shut from crying, and her usual bright, energetic presence had completely evaporated.
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