Chapter 5 - The Woman I Thought Was My Enemy
Tyler sat in a security room beneath Vincent's house looking nothing like the arrogant man who had mocked me at Bellini's.
His expensive jacket was gone.
His lip was split.
His hands were cuffed to a metal table.
For once, he wasn't smiling.
The moment he saw me, his expression changed.
"Emily."
Vincent stepped in front of me.
"Don't say her name."
Tyler laughed nervously.
"There he is. The psycho boyfriend."
"I'm not his girlfriend," I said.
Tyler looked at me.
"Not yet."
Vincent's jaw tightened.
I touched his arm before he could react.
"Let me talk."
He looked down at my hand.
Then reluctantly stepped aside.
I sat across from Tyler.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to warn you."
"By climbing over a wall?"
"The gate wouldn't open."
"Most people take that as a hint."
For half a second, old Tyler appeared—the charming man I'd once loved.
Then desperation returned.
"Emily, you don't understand who he is."
"I know exactly who Vincent is."
"No, you don't."
Tyler leaned forward.
"He's using you."
"Interesting coming from you."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
For years, Tyler had made me smaller.
He controlled what I wore.
What I ordered.
Which friends I saw.
He called insults "help."
Called cruelty "honesty."
And somehow convinced me that defending myself made me difficult.
But sitting across from him now, I felt something I had never felt during our relationship.
Nothing.
No desperate need for approval.
No longing.
No grief.
Just clarity.
"What did Carlo promise you?"
Tyler's face changed.
There it was.
Fear.
"I don't know any Carlo."
Vincent placed the keycard on the table.
"This accesses the private elevator beneath my west garage."
Tyler swallowed.
"You found it."
Vincent smiled without warmth.
"Obviously."
Tyler looked at me.
"They were supposed to scare him."
"Who?"
He said nothing.
I slammed my palm against the table.
"Who, Tyler?"
He jumped.
I almost did too.
Apparently I had more anger than expected.
"They contacted me after the restaurant video."
"Carlo?"
"I never met him. Some guy named Stefan."
Vincent's security chief, Marcus, shifted near the wall.
He clearly recognized the name.
Tyler continued.
"They said DeLuca had humiliated me."
I laughed bitterly.
"You humiliated yourself."
"They said they could help destroy his reputation."
"Why would you care?"
His eyes hardened.
"Because the entire city laughed at me."
I stared at him.
"You publicly mocked me for my body, but your problem is that people laughed at you afterward?"
"You don't understand what happened to my business."
"What business?"
"My investors started pulling out."
Vincent leaned against the wall.
"I did not contact your investors."
Tyler stared at him.
Vincent looked almost offended.
"I didn't need to."
That was worse.
"The video showed them exactly what kind of man you are," I said.
Tyler's face twisted.
"So everybody gets to destroy my life because I made one joke?"
"Three years."
"What?"
"You didn't make one joke."
My voice shook.
"You spent three years teaching me to hate myself."
Tyler looked away.
"You counted calories from my plate. You hid clothes you said made me look disgusting. You refused to take pictures with me because you said your friends would laugh."
I leaned closer.
"And then you brought Vanessa into my workplace just to prove you could replace me."
His face reddened.
"I was angry."
"So was I."
I stood.
"But I didn't sell you to a criminal."
Silence filled the room.
Tyler finally looked frightened.
"I didn't know anyone would get hurt."
Vincent's voice was quiet.
"Someone already did."
Tyler looked toward him.
Vincent continued.
"Two men were hospitalized after the garage explosion."
"I didn't know."
"That phrase won't save you."
"Vincent."
My voice stopped him.
He looked at me.
"No."
One word.
He understood.
Whatever his world normally did to traitors and collaborators, I didn't want it.
Not because Tyler deserved protection.
Because I refused to let him change who I was.
"Call the police," I said.
Marcus stared at me.
Vincent didn't.
He simply nodded.
Tyler looked shocked.
"You'd let him turn me in?"
I almost laughed.
"Did you think I came here to rescue you?"
His face fell.
It was the first moment I understood how much power I'd given him during our relationship.
And how little he actually possessed.
Then Marcus's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
"Boss."
Vincent looked up.
Marcus switched the call to speaker.
A man's voice filled the room.
Smooth.
Older.
Amused.
"Hello, nephew."
Vincent went completely still.
Carlo.
"You've become difficult to reach," the voice continued.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing complicated."
"Then speak."
Carlo chuckled.
"Your father always hated that tone."
"My father hated you."
"So emotional."
His voice shifted.
"Perhaps because of the girl."
Vincent's eyes went toward me.
Carlo laughed softly.
"Yes, Vincent. I know she's listening."
A chill crawled down my spine.
"Leave her out of this," Vincent said.
"Why would I?"
"Because your problem is with me."
"My problem has always been with you."
Carlo sighed.
"You took a family empire that should have belonged to me."
"I inherited businesses. You wanted a criminal kingdom."
"Semantics."
"Call it whatever helps you sleep."
Carlo's amusement disappeared.
Then he said something that changed everything.
"Ask Emily what her father discovered before he died."
My lungs stopped working.
Vincent's face hardened.
"What are you talking about?"
Carlo laughed.
"You never told her?"
Vincent looked genuinely confused.
Good.
Because if he'd been hiding something about my father, I didn't know what I would have done.
"What did my father discover?" I asked.
"Emily," Vincent warned.
"No. I want to know."
Carlo answered.
"Your father didn't merely save Vincent from an accident."
A pause.
"He discovered it wasn't an accident."
I stared at the phone.
"That doesn't make sense."
"He found payment records. Construction alterations. My involvement."
My skin went cold.
"Why would he hide that?"
"Because he wasn't hiding it."
Carlo's voice softened.
"He planned to testify."
Vincent straightened.
"No."
"Oh yes."
The room felt smaller.
"My father died in a car accident," I whispered.
Carlo didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
My knees weakened.
Vincent caught me.
"No," I whispered again.
Dad had died when I was nineteen.
A truck ran a red light.
Police called it tragic.
Random.
Carlo continued.
"Your father was a brave man."
Vincent's hand tightened around mine.
"If you touched him—"
"I didn't personally."
Carlo's calmness made me sick.
"But accidents are remarkably useful."
The world blurred.
Vincent grabbed the phone.
"I will find you."
Carlo laughed.
"That's exactly what I want."
The line went dead.
I pulled away from Vincent.
"I need air."
"Emily."
"I said I need air."
I walked upstairs.
Outside, winter wind hit my face.
My father hadn't died randomly.
Someone had taken him from us.
Because he'd tried to do the right thing.
Vincent found me on the terrace several minutes later.
He didn't touch me.
For that I was grateful.
"Did you know?" I asked.
"No."
"Don't protect me from the truth."
"I swear."
I looked at him.
His pain appeared real.
"I knew your father had evidence against Carlo, but after the construction incident, my father told him to destroy everything and disappear."
"Why?"
"To protect your family."
I laughed bitterly.
"That worked well."
Vincent flinched.
Immediately, I regretted it.
"It wasn't your fault."
"Carlo targeted him because of my family."
"That's different."
"Not to me."
I looked toward the city.
"What happens now?"
"Now I end this."
The coldness in his voice frightened me.
"How?"
He didn't answer.
"Vincent."
"Carlo wants me angry."
"Then don't give him what he wants."
"He killed your father."
"And if you kill him, what does that give me?"
His gaze snapped toward mine.
"My father doesn't come back."
I stepped closer.
"My mother doesn't heal. I don't heal. You just become one more man carrying blood because Carlo decided violence was the only language anyone understood."
Vincent's face hardened.
"You think the law can stop him?"
"I think we should try."
"We?"
The word hung between us.
I hadn't meant to say it.
But I didn't take it back.
"Yes."
He looked at me for a long time.
Then he reached into his coat.
For one ridiculous second, I thought he might produce another weapon.
Instead, he pulled out my father's old photograph.
"I've carried this since you saw it."
I took the picture.
"Why?"
"Because I'm starting to believe your father saved me twice."
I frowned.
"The first time from that collapsing steel beam."
He touched my cheek.
"The second time by leaving someone like you in the world."
My eyes burned.
"That's dangerously close to being romantic."
"I've been practicing."
I laughed through tears.
Then he kissed my forehead.
Not my mouth.
Not without asking.
"Emily."
"Yes?"
"May I kiss you?"
The question nearly broke me.
Because Tyler had taken.
Carlo threatened.
The world demanded.
And Vincent—supposedly the most dangerous man among them—asked.
I nodded.
This kiss was nothing like the first.
There was no audience.
No humiliation.
No phones.
Just his hand against my cheek and my fingers gripping his coat as weeks of fear, grief, attraction, and confusion collided.
When we separated, I rested my forehead against his.
"You're still frightening."
"So are you."
We almost smiled.
Then an explosion shook the estate.
Glass shattered behind us.
Vincent threw me to the ground and covered my body with his.
Flames rose from the east wing.
Security guards ran across the courtyard.
Marcus shouted from inside.
"They're in the house!"
Vincent pulled me toward the door.
Then the lights died.
Darkness swallowed everything.
And somewhere beneath the alarms, a familiar voice called my name.
"Emily!"
I froze.
Vanessa stepped from the hallway shadows.
Blood stained her red dress.
She looked terrified.
"Please," she whispered.
May you like
"They're going to kill me."
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