Chapter 2 - The Bullet and the Bargain
Victor Costello did not blink. His gaze shifted slowly from Sadi’s tear-stained face down to the vibrating burner phone clutched in her bleeding hands.
“Up,” Victor commanded. His voice was a low, resonant baritone that commanded absolute obedience, carrying the effortless authority of a man who owned the city blocks beneath his feet.
Sadi scrambled backward until her spine hit the opposite wall, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. She looked like a trapped animal cornered by a wolf. The phone buzzed a third time, the relentless vibration echoing loudly in the silent, opulent hallway.
“Answer it,” Victor said softly, stepping out of the doorway and blocking any possible escape route.
“I—I can’t,” Sadi whispered, fresh tears spilling over her lashes. “If I answer, he’ll—my brother…”
“Put it on speaker,” Victor instructed, taking two deliberate steps closer. He didn’t raise his voice, but the sheer, lethal presence radiating from him forced compliance.
With trembling, blood-stained fingers, Sadi tapped the speakerphone icon and held the phone up.
“Took you long enough to pick up again,” Mick O’Shea’s voice barked through the small speaker, loud and arrogant. “Fifty-five minutes left, Sadi. Have you begged enough rich men for twenty grand yet, or am I telling Declan to pull the plug early?”
Victor didn't wait for Sadi to formulate a reply. He reached down with lightning speed, snatched the burner phone from her weak grip, and brought it to his ear.
“Mick O’Shea,” Victor said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion, yet dripping with a terrifying frost.
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. The arrogant swagger in Mick’s voice vanished instantly, replaced by a sudden, frantic tremor.
“V—Victor? Mr. Costello? I—I didn’t know you were—she was just an employee, I didn't mean—”
“You are currently threatening someone inside my home,” Victor stated quietly, his eyes fixed on Sadi, who sat frozen on the floor. “You are disrupting my peace at two in the morning. And, worst of all, you are screaming into a phone in a tone that offends my ears.”
“Mr. Costello, please, it’s just a business matter—she owes me money, twenty grand, she’s delinquent—!”
“She works for me,” Victor replied smoothly. “Which means her debts belong to me. And trespassing in St. Jude’s Hospital to threaten a dying child? That is remarkably poor taste, Mick.”
“I—I’ll leave, I’ll call Declan off right now, I swear to God—”
“Too late,” Victor said.
He ended the call with a swift swipe of his thumb, slipped the burner phone into his trouser pocket, and looked down at Sadi.
Sadi stared up at him, her heart in her throat. She knew who Victor Costello was. Everyone in the city knew. He was a ghost who managed an empire of shipping ports, real estate, and underground finance. People who crossed him didn't just disappear; they simply stopped existing.
“Get up off the floor,” Victor ordered, offering a hand down.
Sadi hesitated, staring at his large, steady hand—so different from her own ruined ones—before slowly placing her palm in his. He pulled her to her feet with effortless strength.
“You have a brother in St. Jude’s?” Victor asked, walking back into his office and gesturing for her to follow.
“Yes,” Sadi whispered, walking inside and standing awkwardly near the door. The office was vast, lined with leather-bound books, dark wood paneling, and a massive mahogany desk covered in neatly stacked files. “Sam. He’s sixteen. He has leukemia. I… I borrowed money from Mick for his treatment. I’ve been paying it back, I swear, I’ve been working every single hour I can—”
“Quiet, Sadi,” Victor said, sitting behind his desk. He opened a sleek laptop and tapped a few keys. Within seconds, a secure, encrypted phone on his desk began to ring. He picked it up. “Marcus. Find Mick O’Shea. Bring him to the warehouse on 4th Street. And ensure his son, Declan, is safely escorted out of St. Jude’s without a scratch. I don’t kill children.”
He hung up the phone without waiting for an acknowledgment.
Sadi felt the room spinning. “What… what are you going to do to him?”
“That is none of your concern,” Victor replied, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe. He leaned back in his leather chair, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “Here is your new reality, Sadi Hayes. Your debt to Mick O’Shea is cleared. Permanently. Furthermore, your brother’s medical bills at St. Jude’s will be paid in full, starting tonight.”
Sadi’s jaw dropped. She stared at him in utter disbelief. “Why? What do you want from me? I don’t have anything else to give—I already work twenty hours a day—”
“Not for free, you don’t,” Victor interrupted calmly. “You are going to sign a new employment contract. You will remain head housekeeper of this estate. Your wages will be tripled. You will have access to the best private medical specialists in the country for your brother. In exchange, you will answer my phone calls, you will keep this house running like clockwork, and you will ask zero questions about the men who visit me.”
Sadi stood in absolute silence, processing the impossible proposition. In less than five minutes, her worst nightmare had been completely dismantled by the most dangerous man in the city.
“Do we have an agreement?” Victor asked, his expression unreadable.
May you like
Sadi swallowed hard, the weight of despair finally lifting from her chest. She looked at her scarred, bleeding hands, then met the mafia boss's unwavering gaze.
“Yes,” she whispered. “We have an agreement.”
