Chapter 8 - The Mask Slips
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Sophia entered the penthouse with an air of theatrical victimhood, wearing an expensive designer coat Vincent had bought her last Christmas.
She walked with a noticeable limp, holding a diamond-encrusted clutch against her chest.
“Oh, Vinny!” she cried out, rushing toward him across the marble floor.
“I heard what that awful woman did!”
“How could Claire steal your son and run away like a common criminal after everything you gave her?”
Vincent sat motionless in his leather armchair, swirling two fingers of dark scotch in a crystal tumbler.
He did not look up at her.
He did not offer to take her coat or inspect her injured ankle.
“Sit down, Sophia,” he said softly.
The calmness in his voice caused a faint chill to ripple across Sophia’s shoulders, but she quickly masked it with a pouting smile.
“I came to take care of you, Vinny,” she murmured, perching on the edge of the glass coffee table near his knees.
“Claire never understood the pressures of your world.”
“She was always so weak, so needy.”
“You need someone who grew up in this life, someone who truly appreciates your power.”
Vincent reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small, metallic flash drive.
He tossed it onto the glass table between them with a sharp click.
Sophia’s eyes darted toward the drive, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second.
“What is that?” she asked cautiously.
“That is the security footage from the ballroom corridor outside my grandfather’s banquet suite,” Vincent explained, taking a slow sip of scotch.
“My tech specialists spent the last four hours recovering the deleted files from the country club’s private server.”
Sophia’s throat moved in a hard swallow, her painted fingernails digging into the fabric of her coat.
“Vinny, I don't know what you’re talking about—”
“You see, I wanted to understand how my life burned down in a single evening,” Vincent interrupted, his voice dropping an octave lower.
“So I watched the tapes, Sophia.”
“I watched you stand in the hallway for ten minutes before my assistant rushed in with the news about Claire.”
“Your ankle was perfectly fine.”
“You were laughing with the ambassador’s daughter, sipping champagne, and complaining about the catering.”
Sophia’s face drained of every drop of color, leaving her foundation looking cakey and gray.
“Then,” Vincent continued, leaning forward until his face was inches from hers, “I saw my assistant run toward me.”
“I saw the panic on his face.”
“And on the secondary hallway camera, I saw you watch him deliver the message.”
“You deliberately waited until I turned toward the exit, kicked off your right heel against the carpet, and threw yourself against my arm.”
“No, Vinny, I tripped!” she cried, tears finally spilling over her mascara in genuine terror.
“I swear I twisted it!”
“The audio surveillance in the ladies' powder room caught your phone call twenty minutes later,” Vincent whispered, his voice turning into cold steel.
“You told your cousin that you had Claire right where you wanted her, dying in a county hospital while you held the leash on the boss.”
Sophia backed away on her knees across the marble floor, gasping for breath.
“Vinny, please, I love you!” she begged, her voice shrinking into a pathetic squeak.
“I’ve loved you since we were children!”
“I did it for us!”
Vincent stood up, towering over her like an executioner in the dim light of the penthouse.
“You didn't do it for us, Sophia.”
“You did it because you are a venomous, greedy parasite who thought she could replace my wife.”
May you like
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers once toward the hallway.
Four stone-faced guards stepped out of the shadows, their hands resting on their holstered weapons.
