Chapter 7
Von POV
Marcus arrived at midnight.
The guards moved aside without question money and fear opened every door. I sat in my cell, waiting, knowing he would come. My father's most trusted lieutenant, the man who'd been my shadow since birth.
"Figlio." Marcus's voice was grave. He was sixties now, silver haired, but his eyes still held the same sharp intelligence. "I received your message."
"Tell me you found something."
He pulled a tablet from his coat. "We found everything." The screen lit up with images. Photos of Chris with Becca. Bank transfers. Communications. A trail of bodies and broken lives. "Christopher Mason is a career criminal. Multiple identities, multiple wives, multiple murders. He's been running elaborate cons for fifteen years. This time, someone hired him specifically to target Marissa Hale."
"Richard Hale."
"Yes. But there's more." Marcus swiped to another photo. My stomach dropped. "Becca has been working with Richard Hale for two years. Since before she married you."
The betrayal cut deeper than I expected. "She married me as part of the plan."
"Yes. They needed you eliminated because you were a complication. A variable they couldn't control." Marcus's expression hardened. "Three months ago, you saved Marissa's life. You don't remember, but Richard Hale had arranged an accident a car crash meant to kill her. You were driving behind her on the PCH, saw her brake lines had been cut, and forced her car off the road safely before she went over the cliff."
I searched my memory. "The woman in the silver Mercedes. I thought she was just a distracted driver."
"She was Marissa Hale. Richard's first attempt at murder, foiled by random chance. By you." Marcus closed the tablet. "After that, Richard decided you were too dangerous to leave alive. He needed you destroyed along with Marissa. So Becca seduced you, married you, and when the time came, provided evidence against you."
"And she did it for money."
"Half a billion dollars, to be split between her and Chris once Marissa was dead and Richard had control of the company." Marcus paused. "But there's a complication. One they didn't anticipate."
"What?"
"Becca's son. He's yours, Von. DNA test confirms it. Not Chris's."
My world tilted. "I have a son?"
"Two years old. Named Michael. Currently in Becca's custody while she lives in luxury in the Cayman Islands with Christopher Mason." Marcus's voice went cold. "They're raising your child on blood money."
Rage unlike anything I'd felt before consumed me. My son. My son.
"I want them found," I said quietly. "All of them. Chris, Becca, Richard. I want them located, contained, and brought to justice. Not killed that's too easy. I want them destroyed the way they destroyed us. I want them to lose everything before they lose their freedom."
"And if they resist?"
"Then we revisit the 'not killed' part." I stood, moved to the bars. "How soon can you get me and Marissa out of here?"
"Three days, maybe less. I'm working through channels. Your case is built on fabricated evidence it won't hold up to serious scrutiny. Once certain officials are persuaded to look deeper..."
"Make it two days, Marcus. Someone tried to kill us in the yard today. They'll try again."
"I'll expedite." He turned to leave, then stopped. "Figlio. This woman, Marissa Hale. You're protecting her."
"She's innocent. Like me."
"That's not what I meant." Marcus's eyes held understanding. "You're protecting her like she matters. Like she's already yours."
I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because he was right, and I didn't understand why.
Marissa Hale was a stranger. A woman I'd never met before yesterday. But when that inmate had threatened her, when I'd seen fear in her eyes, something primitive had roared to life inside me. Mine. Protect. Defend.
"Just get us out, Marcus. Before someone kills her and I have to burn this entire prison to the ground."
He smiled faintly. "As you wish."
After he left, I lay on my bunk and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere in this prison, Marissa was alone, terrified, carrying a child she didn't even know was still alive after the stress and violence.
Two more days. Then we'd be free.
And then the people who destroyed us would learn what it meant to make enemies of a m
afia prince and a billionaire heiress.
They thought they'd won. They thought we were broken.
They had no idea what was coming.
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