All Chapters of Velvet Chains : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

An Unlikely WarningFrank Delgado survived surgery.Vivienne heard the news at two in the morning, sitting in a different hospital waiting room than the one she'd sat in the night before, Damian's head resting against her shoulder, both of them running on nothing but coffee and fear. A doctor came out, tired but hopeful, and told them Delgado had a broken hip, a concussion, and internal bruising, but he was going to live, and with any luck, he'd be able to talk to them within a day or two."He's alive," Vivienne whispered, relief crashing through her so hard her knees nearly buckled. "Damian, he's alive."Damian pulled her into his arms right there in the waiting room, holding on like she was the only solid thing left in a world that kept trying to knock him sideways."I keep almost losing people," he said quietly into her hair. "My uncle. Now Delgado. I keep thinking about how close that was tonight, and all I can think about is what happens if it's you next time.""It's not going to

The Whole Truth"Mara." Damian's voice was quiet, careful, more startled than angry. "What was that call?"Mara stood frozen amid the shattered glass of her phone screen, tears already spilling down her face. "Mr. Voss, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't have a choice." Everyone has a choice, Damian said, though his voice had gone gentle rather than cold, the same careful gentleness Vivienne had watched him offer Ms. Adler that morning. "Tell me what happened. Now. We don't have time for anything less than the truth." Mara pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, glancing nervously at the reporters still crowding the lobby glass behind them. "Not here," she whispered. "Please."They pulled her into a small conference room, and once the door shut behind them, Mara's composure crumbled completely. My brother owes money, she said, the words tumbling out fast, desperate. "A lot of money. Medical bills, from an accident two years ago. I've been paying what I can, but it was nev

The Car in the DarkThey found Renata's car eight minutes later, abandoned at an odd angle near the corner of Prince and Wooster, the driver's door hanging open, her purse still sitting on the passenger seat.Vivienne was out of the moving vehicle almost before Reyes had fully stopped, running toward the car with her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat."Renata!" she screamed into the empty street. No answer. No sign of her anywhere.Damian caught up beside her, already scanning the sidewalk, the storefronts, the dark alley mouth two buildings down. "Reyes, get police here now. Full radius search."There's no blood, Reyes said, crouching by the open door, examining the scene with a careful, practiced eye. No sign of a struggle inside the car. Whoever did this either surprised her completely, or. He stopped."Or what?" Vivienne demanded."Or she got out on her own and something else happened after that," Reyes said grimly.Vivienne's phone rang. She answered instant

The Warehouse Standoff"Put it away, Doyle," Weston said, stepping between Vivienne's chair and the gun now leveled at his chest. "This wasn't the plan. Killing a witness and a hostage in the same night isn't justice, it's a massacre, and I won't stand here and let you turn my life's work into that." Your life's work stopped mattering the moment Mr. Whitfield started signing the checks," Doyle said flatly. "Step aside.""No."Vivienne's mind raced, her wrists still loosely bound to the chair, adrenaline burning through the last of the sedative fog. Her eyes landed on a rusted metal toolbox sitting on the desk beside her, close enough to reach, if she could just buy herself one more second. You work for a man who's using both of you, she said loudly, forcing steadiness into her voice, needing Doyle's attention, needing him distracted just a moment longer. "Weston built this whole campaign to expose a forty-year-old wrong. Trevor Whitfield doesn't care about justice. He cares about a co

The Day We Met Wasn't an AccidentVivienne and Damian arrived at Claire's Brooklyn Heights brownstone twenty minutes later, Reyes and two security men stationed discreetly along the block, everyone painfully aware that Trevor could return at any moment.Claire opened the door before they'd even reached it, pale and shaking, a folder clutched tight against her chest, one hand resting protectively over her stomach."He doesn't know I found this," she said, pulling them quickly inside, locking the door behind them with trembling hands. "It was buried in an old filing box in his home office, from before we were even married. I only found it because I was looking for our marriage certificate for a doctor's form, and I opened the wrong drawer."She spread the contents across her kitchen table, old emails, printed and yellowed with age, dated nearly three years earlier.Vivienne's breath caught as she read the first one.From: T. WhitfieldTo: S. VossSubject: A favor, between old acquaintan