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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Violet

Vincenzo took Mili upstairs to rest. She protested the entire way up the stairs, cursing and calling him every name in the book. Now I’m sitting here with only my thoughts to keep me company.

I miss Declan and Carter.

Vincenzo said the club would get Declan out of jail, but he didn’t say when. For all I know, he’s waiting to go before a judge first. Mrs. Cortez made it sound like it could be awhile before a judge became available. I guess that only matters if you don’t have a mob boss with a judge in his pocket.

I still don’t know what that’s going to cost me.

I have no idea how to find Carter. I can’t stop wondering if he’s okay. Are they feeding him? Is he in pain? Is he scared? I’ve seen those criminal investigation documentaries about the things that happen to children in some of those places. I’m sure not all of them are bad, but not having him in my sight, or being able to talk to him, leaves me to the worst in my imagination.

I’m so tired of crying. It doesn’t help the situation, but it’s all I seem able to do.

“He’ll be okay, Dolcezza,” Matteo says, entering the room. I sit up on the couch, cradling my knees to my chest. “Carter’s a good boy. Smart. Resourceful. He’ll be okay. He’ll find his way back to you.”

“He shouldn’t have to find his way back. He never should’ve been taken in the first place. Now my fucking psycho of a husband is going to be told where to find him, Matteo. Even if Carter could find his way back, if his father finds him, he won’t live long enough to make the journey.”

Matteo chuckles.

“What about this is funny to you?”

“You are what amuses me, Violet,” he says. “Even now, after being out from under your cunt of a husband for two years, you still give him power over you. Do you know he’s been looking for you all this time. He even came close to finding you once. The boss made sure he didn’t.”

“I didn’t know that.” I don’t know if I should be relieved or pissed by the fact they didn’t tell me.

“He can’t afford for you to be alive. Yet he needs you.”

“I don’t understand.”

He looks me dead in the eyes and says, “He needs you to get the money.” Now I’m totally confused.

“What money?”

“When Kayce faked your deaths, your husband cashed in on the insurance. The home and life policies both paid out. He made almost half a million dollars off your supposed death. Not to mention what he made when he rebuilt and sold the house.”

“That’s why Mrs. Cortez accused me of fraud. She asked me about the insurance money, but I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“Hmm. He also inherited everything your father left behind for you.”

“My father didn’t have anything except his house. We sold it about three weeks before Carter and I left. I never saw a dime from it, but it was mortgaged to the hilt because of my dad’s gambling habits. Hell, he squandered Carter’s college fund he set up for his first birthday.”

“You’re wrong, Dolcezza. Your father had a gambling addiction, but he still had money put aside for you. He knew he was weak when it came to money. He put away over one and a half million dollars in a trust for you and Carter. Henry set it up so he couldn’t touch it. It’s still there.”

“What?”

“Allyson Archer, an attorney who was close to your father, helped put everything your father owned into a trust for you and Carter. Everything except his home. Before your father died, he sent a request to Miss Archer. If anything happened to him, she was to make sure your husband couldn’t touch anything he had for you in the trust. He was the one who reached out to Kayce to get you out of your situation.”

A gasp leaves me in a whoosh and has me feeling lightheaded.

“He knew Kayce would fake your death. They made a plan together. Only your father thought he would be coming with you. It’s why he helped Allyson open the office in Crestview. It’s also why he told her to force everything into probate after your death for as long as possible, because he knew eventually you would come out of hiding.”

“But how would I prove it’s me after having faked my death? I’ll go to jail for fraud, Matteo!”

“No, Dolcezza. You won’t. We have a plan. But you will have to do everything we tell you and have faith that we will not steer you wrong.” His accusing raised brow annoys me.

“I do have faith. I’m just scared, Matteo. So many secrets. So many lies. And all I give a shit about is getting back to my son and Declan.” I cry. I hate crying. “I don’t care about money or anything else. I just want my family and to be happy. Why is that so fucking hard?”

He chuckles, squeezing my hand. “It’s not hard. It’s a choice. If you choose to be happy, let us help you. If you want to bury your head in the sand like an ostrich, then do that. We will bring Carter home no matter what you choose, but I can’t promise the life you are hoping for will still be available if you choose to ignore the world around you. The Kings seem to be about living life and loving family. Of course, I could be wrong.”

I hate him. Who said he should be the voice of reason?

“Matteo. Violet. We have to go,” Vincenzo calls out, rushing down the stairs while throwing his suit jacket on.

“Where to, boss?”

“It seems your husband wishes to see you,” Vincenzo says on a growl. “He’s demanding I bring you to him and if I do, he will release your son to me.”

“What? I don’t understand. Why would he allow Carter to go with you?” It makes no sense. James is not the type of person to let anyone go free without some type of contingency plan.

“My guess is he’s going to allow the exchange until you fulfill your purpose of releasing the money to him, and then he’s going to tell the police that the boss kidnapped your son,” Matteo says, sounding blasé about the whole thing. “It would be a good plan if it were not for the fact it’s so obvious.”

“So, what is your plan?” I ask Vincenzo.

“I’m going to take you to him and bring Carter home, of course.”

“What?”

“Relax, Dolcezza,” Matteo soothes softly. “Remember what I said about having faith.”

“That was before the plan was to hand me over to the psychotic motherfucker who would love nothing more than to see to my fake death becoming reality,” I screech.

Both men are sniggering and I’m fighting the urge not to slap them both.

“I’m not sure what to think about your use of the word motherfucker,” Matteo says. “Typically, I would scold you for such language, but there’s something amusing about it. It’s almost … cute.”

“Cute? What am I, a fucking puppy?” I snap. “How are you two so calm about all of this? My husband wants to kill me. He’s planning on destroying everything you’ve built on a bullshit story of kidnapping, and you’re both standing here shaking with laughter.”

“What can I say, Miss Dupree. You are very entertaining in your outrage.”

“I see what Mili means about you now.” That sobers Vincenzo up instantly and because I’m feeling petty, I’m not going to explain it to him.

Let’s see how you enjoy stewing.

“Come. The cars will be waiting out front,” Vincenzo commands. “Matteo, I want you and Miss Dupree in the front vehicle. We have a guest to drop off riding in the rear.”

Matteo doesn’t question, just nods his head. Then, taking me by the elbow, he leads me out to the waiting SUVs.

“You need to listen to me, Violet,” he whispers. “Whatever happens, you stick to the plan. We will drive up, you and I will get out to make the exchange, and then I will leave with Carter. You do not try to run. I promise nothing will happen to you, but you must obey my every word. Can you do that? Can you have faith that we will keep you safe?”

“As long as you keep my son away from James, I’ll do whatever you ask.” Matteo eyes me warily. But I don’t say any more. While they are busy plotting a way to save my son, I’m planning my revenge.

This time, I will not go down without a fight.