Page 64 of Goldrage
I smile. Everything is finally moving forward. Adrian was able to get info to Lorenzo, and Valentine is actually helping. I pray it’s genuine, though my heart is still reluctant to open up to him again.
But this is all a step forward.
My smile turns into a grin. Adrian’s plan to dismantle the criminal empire from within is actually going to happen, even while he’s essentially imprisoned in his own family’s estate.
Soon we’ll be free!
“I need more guidance on some of the technical parts,” Lorenzo continues. “Which I suspect he’ll provide through Valentine when he can. But for now, I at least have access. I’ve been studying everything, and I’ll wait for Adrian to tell me the next steps.”
As we wander out of the oak trees, not wanting to linger too long, Lorenzo’s hand brushes against mine in what appears to be an affectionate gesture. Something small and rectangular transfers from his palm to mine, and I slip it into my dress pocket quickly.
“Your plan to set everything in motion under Julian and your mother-in-law’s noses seems to be working perfectly,” Lorenzo whispers with genuine admiration.
We complete another lap of the garden with more casual conversation about current events, the weather, and Lorenzo’s various business ventures. When we reach the main entrance to the estate, Lorenzo makes a show of checking his watch and sighing with exaggerated disappointment.
“I’m afraid duty calls,” he announces loudly enough for the guards to hear. “Business meetings wait for no one, not even family time.” He pulls me into a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Take care of yourself, cugina. I’ll visit again soon.”
I wave as Lorenzo’s car disappears down the estate’s winding driveway, then force myself to maintain the casual pace of someone with nowhere urgent to be. Twenty minutes pass in the library, where I select a novel and read a few pages while positioned where the guards can easily observe my peaceful activities.
After what feels like an appropriate amount of time, I stretch and release an audible yawn. My hand finds my belly as I gather my books and make my way toward my room with the slow, tired movements of a pregnant woman who needs rest.
Once safely in my bathroom—the one space I’ve confirmed has no cameras—I finally examine Lorenzo’s gift. The flip-phone is small, sleek, and clearly designed for discrete communication. It’s very simple with a tiny black and white screen and a number pad. When I power it on, I discover a single number saved in the contacts.
My fingers tremble slightly as I dial, pressing the phone to my ear while my heart hammers against my ribs. What could this be about? But I trust Lorenzo and know there’s a purpose behind giving me this phone and number to call.
The line rings twice before a familiar voice answers.
“Well, Hello.” Eleanora’s tone is soothing against my ear.
“Oh my God!” I breathe, relief flooding me at hearing my best friend’s voice. “God, it’s so good to hear you.”
“Are you alright? Lorenzo said you were holding up, but I needed to hear it from you. Are you safe?”
“I’m managing,” I say carefully, not wanting to worry her with details about Lady Harrow’s threats. “It’s… complicated, but I’m safe for now.”
“I heard you broke Lady Harrow’s nose.”
I grin. “Yup.”
“You couldn’t have waited for me? I wanted to see that!”
We both laugh and it feels good.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to do it again when you’re in the room,” I tease. After more laughter, I ask, “What about you? How are things on your end?”
There’s a pause before Eleanora responds, and when she speaks, her voice has a weight that makes my stomach clench. “I have news. About your list.”
“My list?” My mind races, just now remembering the conversation we’d had while I was recovering at Lorenzo’s estate. I get a flash of her reading my diary.Crap.I’d told her about my hit list when pain medication had loosened my tongue and made me loopy.
“Gregory Whitman is dead,” Eleanora says bluntly. “Gideon and I handled it three nights ago during a Consortium party.” I can tell she’s grinning with pride. “We made it look like a heart attack. Apparently he had underlying cardiac issues that made the whole thing quite convenient.”
I sink onto the closed toilet seat, my free handpressing against my mouth as I process this information. Gregory Whitman—the man who’d burn me with that cigar, who’d made disgusting comments about wanting to “enjoy” me after I gave birth—is gone. Permanently.
“I thought you should know,” Eleanora says when I don’t immediately respond. “I’m sure no one keeps you up to date there. I figured you’d want to know that your revenge for your mother is one step closer to completion.”
“He’s… really dead?” I ask quietly, surprised by the lack of satisfaction in my own voice. I’d fantasized about killing Gregory myself, about looking into his eyes as I ended his worthless life. Instead, I feel… empty.
“Very dead,” Eleanora confirms. “The funeral was yesterday. A private ceremony, immediate family only. His younger brother delivered a touching eulogy about Gregory’s dedication to family values.” Eleanora gags dramatically. “As if.”
