56

Chapter 56

Martin Pov

Staying in the penthouse wasn’t an option anymore.

The photo with a red X over my face crossed a line. Someone had broken into my home and left a clear warning.

You’re marked. You’re next.

For three nights I couldn’t sleep. I recall that picture several times, until it became a shape in my head. Every sound made me flinch. The locks I’d trusted felt useless. The place that used to make me feel secure felt like a trap.

So I left.

I told Amelia I had a business and it required going out of town, but she didn’t believe me, and I don't care.

I packed a few things, took the hidden guns, drugs I'd sell to make cash and then I drove to a bare Queens safe house. At night I locked the door, and then use a chair to wedge the handle of the door. I told myself,I'd go back to my house when it was safe.

Relief didn’t last long.

I needed protection — the kind with muscle and silence. I called contacts who lived in that world.

First, Carlos.

“It’s me,” I said when he answered. “I need a favor.”

“Long time,” he said, careful. “What kind?”

“Someone’s trying to kill me. I need backup.”

Silence. Then, “Who’s after you?”

"No idea. They entered my

place and left a photo with a red X over my face.”

“This about that girl? The one you set up?”

“Maybe. Maybe business. Either way, I need protection.”

“Protection costs.”

“I’ll pay.”

We haggled. I handed over five thousand upfront, agreed to another five when the threat was gone. Too much, but necessary.

Next, Rico. He handled security for heavy players, the kind who could make someone vanish or scrub their traces clean.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked.

“Someone’s hunting me. I need a clean car and my digital life erased, social media, property records, anything that points to me.”

Rico whistled. “Two days for the car. The cleanup will cost more. Ten grand minimum.”

I swallowed. Between Carlos and Rico, I’d committed nearly twenty to twenty-five thousand dollars. It hurt. I didn’t care. If I died, money didn’t matter.

I called a few others, set things in motion, and by sunrise I’d agreed to spend almost thirty thousand to stay alive.

Sleep still wouldn’t come. Every creak made me reach for the gun under my pillow. Every car passing the building had me checking the windows. This was true fear — the exact kind I’d forced on others for years. Now it was my own shadow.

Around noon, an unknown number rang. I hovered before answering. What if it was them? What if speaking gave away the safe house?

I picked up and stayed quiet.

“Martin.” Brittany’s voice. “We need to meet. Today. It’s urgent.”

Relief hit me. Not a threat. A plan.

“I’m laying low,” I said. “Can it wait?”

“No. The gala is in four days. We have to finalize the drugs, the plan, the timing. No room for mistakes.”

We had a change of plans. Our deadline was the gala. Our chance to frame Adrian and destroy her. If we did it right, she’d be in prison and discredited for good.

“Where?” I asked.

“The usual place. Two hours.”

I put a gun at my waistband and left — careful not to attract attention.

The Queens coffee shop was mostly empty. Brittany sat at the edge in a black dress, looking at me like a problem to fix.

“You look terrible,” she said.

A

“Someone’s trying to kill me,” I replied. “Awful fits.”

“Is it Darcy?” she asked.

“No idea. Maybe. Whoever it is, they’re good. They were in my home and left a photo with a red X.”

A flicker crossed her face, concern or fear, I couldn’t tell.

“Have you told anyone?” she asked.

“Just my security contacts. No one else.”

“Good. Show me the drugs I asked you to get.”

I showed her a picture on my phone —two small bags of cocaine. When I plant it on Adrian, I assure you, it's enough to send her back to prison.

“Where’d you get them, Martin?” she asked.

“Don’t ask, please. I'm into drugs so it's easy.” I said, my voice was tight. "Thay are clean."

She began,“ Since they’re clean — no prints, no way to trace them. At the gala, you’ll pose as catering. I’ve arranged credentials. You’ll have access to coats, service areas, and guest bags. You plant the bags and make an anonymous tip.”

“What if she doesn’t have a purse? What if she’s never alone?”

“She’ll have something. Everyone gets a moment alone, a restroom, a smoke, a step onto the terrace. Be patient and ready.”

“What happens to me after she’s arrested?”

“You go dark. Lay low. I’ll pay you the rest. We won't speak of this again.”

“And if something goes wrong?”

She leaned in. “Then we both fall. Make sure it doesn’t.”

Her words were a warning sewn with a promise. I understood: if I failed, I’d be on my own.

“I need a new car,” I told her. “And my digital records, wiped.”

She considered me like a problem to be fixed. “Fine. I’ll arrange the car and handle the cleanup. It’ll cost. Consider it part of your payment. And Martin, if you mess this up, count me out.”

“One more thing,” she said. “Your wife. What does she know?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“Keep it that way. The fewer people who know,the better.”

Back at the safe house, I checked my phone. I had six missed calls from Amelia. I remember Brittany had insisted: Amelia could become a liability.

I called.

“Where are you?” she demanded when she picked up.

“I told you — business trip.”

“Liar. I checked. You haven’t been to the office in three days. People haven’t seen you.”

“Amelia, I can’t discuss it.”

“You’re hiding things. Are you in trouble? Seeing someone else?”

“No. Business,” I snapped. “Don't get involved. It's safe "

“You helped me set up Adrian. Don’t act like you're innocent.”

“We both did this.”

A pause. Then, icy calm: “I want to see you. Tonight. Face to face.”

“That’s not feasible.”

“Fine. Then we’re done. I’m not married to a ghost.”

She hung up.

My chest tightened. Amelia had always kept tabs on me. Now she wanted answers. If she kept digging I’d have one more problem to manage and one more person to protect or control.

I drove back to the penthouse after dark. Then I parked three blocks away from the house, and walked watching every corner of the house. I took the stairs, hand on the gun in my waistband. At our door I stopped. I heard voices. Amelia and someone else.

My heart jumped.

I turned the key, stepped inside with the gun raised, and froze. Amelia sat on the couch with a young man in a suit.

“Oh fuck…” he said as he looked up.

“Get out,” I barked.

“It’s David. He’s my lawyer,” Amelia said. “I asked him to come because I thought you might be in legal trouble.”

“You brought a lawyer into our home without telling me?” I said.

David stood up, hands raised. “I’m leaving. This is between you two.”

When the door closed behind him, Amelia faced me.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Pulling a gun on a lawyer?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Inviting strangers in, when someone’s trying to kill me?”

“Nobody’s trying to kill you! You’re paranoid!”

I threw the photo onto the coffee table. The image from three years ago — outside the hotel where I’d sold Adrian’s virginity, with that red X. Her face drained.

“Someone left this in our home,” I said. “They were here while we slept.”

Fear finally reached her. “Who would do this?”

“No idea. Maybe Adrian. Maybe business. Maybe someone else.”

She looked at the picture carefully and then at me. Anger replaced fear.

“This is your fault,” she said. “All of this comes from what you did. From what we did.”

“We did it together.”

“No.” She took her purse. “I’m done. I can’t live like this.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Somewhere safe. Somewhere you aren’t.”

She shoved past me. I grabbed her arm.

“Don’t go. Not now.”

“Let go, Martin, I'll only come back to this house when you are sane and everything is normal.” she said, pushing me hard. She moved down the hall and out the door.

I stood in the penthouse looking at the riches I've made in life that suddenly felt meaningless. My wife was gone. Someone was hunting me. In four days I had to plant drugs on Adrian at a gala where a single mistake would mean prison or worse.

The drugs could destroy Adrian’s life permanently. They could destroy me permanently too.

I didn’t know which one would happen in the next few days to come. I hope I'm safe.

All I knew was I’d come too far to quit.

Four days to survive.

Four days to finish this.

And then if I made it,maybe I could breathe again. The hunter would stop hunting me. Then as the strong wind blew up the curtain in the room, I flinched and ran out of the penthouse.