Chapter 2 - Interrogations Under Neon Lights And Shadows
The transition from the blinding crystal lights of the Grandeur Hotel ballroom to the subterranean chill of a private holding facility was swift and brutal. Dmitri didn't bother to loosen his grip on my arms as he dragged me through a labyrinth of concrete corridors that smelled sharply of damp earth and high-end motor oil. My wrists throbbed where his fingers had clamped down like steel bands, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the roaring terror inside my head. What about Daniel? What about Mama? If I vanished into this concrete hellhole tonight, no one would ever find my body, and my family would be left entirely defenseless in a city ruled by men who treated human lives like loose change.
They pushed me hard into a chair centered beneath a harsh, swaying overhead bulb. The room was sparse—just a metal table, concrete walls, and the looming shadows of three armed guards standing by the reinforced steel door. A moment later, the heavy door clicked open, and Victor Romano stepped inside. He had changed out of his gala tuxedo jacket into a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing thick, corded muscles and faded ink tattoos that curved around his wrists. The split lip I had given him was already purpling slightly, a stark reminder of my reckless defiance. He didn't yell. He didn't slam his fists on the table. He simply pulled out the opposite chair, sat down, and stared at me with an eerie, calculating calm that terrified me far more than any display of rage.
"You have thirty seconds, Lena Hart," Victor said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated right through the metal table. "Before my men decide to unpack your belongings across the city river. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't let them."
My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. My fingers dug deep into the fabric of my cheap cotton trousers. I looked straight into his dark, fathomless eyes, forcing my voice to stop shaking. "Because the person who set me up is sitting in your penthouse right now, counting down the hours until you're dead, Mr. Romano. Check the security logs for the service elevator on the service floor. Leon Mercer wasn't standing by table eighteen by accident. He slipped the second glass into my station while I was clearing linens."
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Victor didn't flinch, but a muscle ticked dangerously along his jawline. He motioned with two fingers, and Dmitri stepped forward, handing a tablet down onto the metal surface. On the screen, security footage played in silent, condemning loop. It showed Leon Mercer sliding a tray toward my locker area while my back was turned, pressing a marked glass directly into the spot where my cleaning supplies were kept. The frame-by-frame clarity was undeniable.
The silence in the room grew so heavy I could hear the hum of the fluorescent light overhead. Victor leaned back slowly, his eyes narrowing as the full realization of betrayal settled over his features. The woman he trusted, the advisor who had stood by his side for a decade—they had conspired to tear his empire down from the inside out. And I, a lowly maid struggling to pay for medical oxygen, had just blown their entire conspiracy wide open with a desperate punch to the mouth.
