Chapter 6 - THE RISING THREAT
The blizzard cleared by Friday morning, leaving the estate wrapped in a blinding blanket of white snow. But inside the mansion, the atmosphere had grown dangerously hot.
Victor’s wound was healing, thanks to Khloe’s care, but the ambush on Thursday night had confirmed his suspicions: Leo Donati had aligned himself with rival factions from the south, desperate to clear his debt by eliminating Victor entirely.
Khloe spent the morning in the East Wing, helping Victor change his bandage before he met with his lieutenants. The dynamic between them had irrevocably shifted. The cold barrier of master and servant had crumbled during the storm, replaced by an intimate, unspoken understanding.
“You need to stay inside the mansion today,” Victor said, buttoning a fresh black shirt over his bandaged chest. “My men are securing the perimeter, but Donati is growing desperate.”
“What about Tommy?” Khloe asked, her eyes filled with worry as she adjusted his collar. “I need to visit him at the hospital tonight. His new treatment cycle starts tomorrow.”
Victor looked down at her face, seeing the deep love and concern she had for her brother. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick leather checkbook. He wrote a figure smoothly and handed the slip of paper to her.
Khloe looked at the paper. Her breath hitched.
$100,000.
“Victor... no,” she stammered, trying to hand it back. “I can't take this. This is too much—”
“It is not a gift,” Victor said firmly, closing her hand around the check. “It is an advance on your lifetime contract as my personal assistant. The hospital fees are paid. I’ve already had my private medical team transfer Thomas to a private suite at Chicago General. He has the best specialists in the country watching him right now.”
Tears welled up in Khloe’s brown eyes. The crushing weight that had sat on her chest for months—the terror, the unpaid bills, the constant fear of losing her brother—suddenly evaporated.
“Why are you doing this for me?” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.
Victor stepped closer, his thumb gently catching the tear and wiping it away. “Because you saved my life on Thursday, Khloe. And because for the first time in five years, I have something worth protecting.”
Before Khloe could answer, the heavy oak door burst open. Marcus, Victor’s chief lieutenant, stood in the doorway, his face pale and sweating despite the cold air.
“Boss,” Marcus said urgently. “We have a problem at the front gate. Donati’s men just delivered a package.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed into slits of ice. He pulled his shoulder holster on, clicking his heavy firearm into place. “Stay here, Khloe.”
“Victor—”
“Stay here.”
Victor swept out of the room, followed closely by Marcus.
Unable to simply sit still, Khloe followed them at a distance, staying hidden behind the grand pillars of the upper balcony overlooking the main foyer.
Below, four armed guards carried a large wooden crate into the marble hall. Mrs. Gable stood near the kitchen entrance, clutching her handkerchief to her mouth in terror.
Victor descended the grand staircase with slow, lethal grace. “Open it.”
Marcus used a crowbar to pry open the top of the wooden crate. Inside lay three dead bodies—Victor’s perimeter guards who had been stationed at the northern outpost. Pinned to the chest of one guard was a bloody note written in messy ink.
Marcus picked up the note and read it aloud, his voice shaking slightly.
“Russo. The debt is canceled, or the next delivery will be your little maid’s head. Hand over the northern docks by midnight, or everyone under your roof dies. — Donati.”
A terrifying silence fell over the foyer.
Khloe gasped softly from her hiding spot on the balcony, pressing her back against the stone pillar. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. Leo Donati knew about her. He was targeting her to force Victor into surrender.
Below, Victor stood looking at the wooden crate. He didn't yell. He didn't smash anything. Instead, a cold, terrifying aura settled over him—a aura of absolute, unadulterated death.
He turned to Marcus. “Gather every man we have. Arm the perimeter. Set up a trap at the northern docks for midnight.”
“And the maid, boss?” Marcus asked quietly. “Donati’s men might have eyes inside the property.”
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Victor looked up toward the upper balcony, his sharp slate-grey eyes pinpointing Khloe’s hiding spot behind the pillar.
“Put her in the panic room beneath my suite,” Victor ordered, his voice echoing through the massive marble hall like a knell of doom. “If anyone comes within fifty feet of her without my personal clearance, put a bullet in their head.”
