Chapter 7 - The Sister’s Warning
The morning sun broke over Boston in brilliant streaks of amber and gold, illuminating the calm waters of the harbor.
Claire woke up inside the master bedroom of Damian’s penthouse.
She was wrapped in heavy white silk sheets, the king-sized bed softer than anything she had ever slept on. Beside her, the space was empty, though the dent in the pillow and the faint scent of sandalwood proved he had been there until recently.
She sat up, pulling the duvet to her chest, looking around the expansive, sunlit room. On the bedside table sat a fresh porcelain cup of steaming coffee and a folded note written in dark, precise calligraphy:
I have business at the docks. Stay as long as you like. The penthouse is yours. — D.
Claire smiled, a soft, genuine warmth spreading through her chest. She took a sip of the coffee—perfectly brewed with a splash of cream, exactly how she liked it.
Her phone, sitting beside the coffee cup, began to vibrate violently.
The screen flashed with a contact name: REBECCA.
Claire picked it up and hit answer. "Morning, Becca."
"Claire! Oh my God, Claire, where are you?!" her younger sister’s voice exploded through the speaker, breathless and high-pitched with frantic panic. "I went to your apartment this morning to borrow your spare keys and there were two massive guys in black suits standing outside your door!"
Claire sat up straight, her smile fading slightly. "Becca, calm down. Those are... security guards."
"Security guards?!" Rebecca squeaked. "Claire, what did you do?! Did you take out a loan from bad people? Did you get involved with those medical supply people you work for?!"
Claire let out a long breath, running a hand through her dark hair. "No, Becca. I didn't get into trouble. I'm... I'm staying with someone."
"With who?!"
Claire paused. How could she explain to her twenty-two-year-old sister that she was currently lying in the bed of Boston's most infamous crime boss?
"Someone I work with," Claire said carefully. "He's... powerful. He offered protection."
"Claire, listen to me," Rebecca’s voice dropped into a rare, serious tone that startled Claire. "I was at the coffee shop near your apartment an hour ago. The news on the TV was talking about a massive police raid at the harbor last night. They were mentioning a name... Damian Cross. They said the FBI is freezing all of his corporate accounts!"
Claire’s heart stopped. She nearly spilled her coffee onto the silk sheets.
"What did you say?" Claire asked, her voice dropping into a razor-thin whisper.
"They said the U.S. Attorney’s office just held a press conference!" Rebecca shouted. "They said Damian Cross is being indicted for federal racketeering! Claire... is that the man you work for?!"
Claire didn't answer. She threw the covers off her legs, stood up, and sprinted toward the living room, her eyes locking onto the massive wall-mounted television screen above the marble fireplace.
She picked up the remote and clicked it on.
The screen flickered to life on the local news channel. A bold red ticker flashed across the bottom of the screen:
BREAKING NEWS: U.S. ATTORNEY UNSEALS 30-COUNT INDICTMENT AGAINST CROSSWELL DEVELOPMENT CEO DAMIAN CROSS.
On the screen stood the U.S. Attorney for Massachusetts, speaking into a cluster of news microphones:
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"...Effective six o'clock this morning, federal marshals have seized all primary assets of Crosswell Development, including the Harbor Crown Hotel. We have issued a federal warrant for the immediate arrest of Damian Cross on charges of enterprise corruption, wire fraud, and conspiracy..."
Claire stood frozen in the middle of the sweeping penthouse living room, her breath hitching in her throat as the cold reality of Damian’s world came crashing back down around her.
