Chapter 8
Hotel Suite. 10:15 PM.
The phone sat on the table.
Still warm from Marco's venom.
Valentina looked at me like I just shattered the sun.
Like she didn't know whether to hug me or fall apart.
I stood up slowly.
Walked to my coat pocket.
Pulled out a small, sleek black case.
Opened it.
Inside was a single device.
A matte black pin. Size of a shirt button.
I held it in my palm.
Let her see it.
"Take it."
Valentina blinked. "What... is it?"
I stepped closer.
"It's yours now. I coded it myself."
I placed it gently in her hand.
"If you ever feel unsafe—press it. Once. That's all it takes. I'll know where you are."
She stared at it.
"It's also recording," I added softly.
"Every conversation within a 12-foot radius. Stored automatically. Protected. Invisible."
Valentina looked at me.
Eyes glassy.
"You're giving me this?"
I nodded.
"Because I know what he's like. And I can't stop you from going back."
Pause.
My voice dropped.
"So I'll watch from a distance."
She opened her mouth, ready to say something.
I cut her off.
"Be daddy's girl if you want to."
Her face twisted.
"But if you want to be you..."
I looked her dead in the eye.
"Press the button."
I turned toward the door.
Heels clicking again.
Stopping at the edge of the light.
I looked over my shoulder one last time.
"It's your call, Valentina."
And then I left.
Leaving behind a girl with a button,
a choice,
and the first real shot at freedom she's ever had.
Outside the Hotel. 10:21 PM. Parking Lot.
The wind was sharp.
I leaned against the hood of my car, arms crossed, eyes on the street ahead.
Valentina stood in front of me, holding the button like it was burning in her hand.
"I don't want to go back."
Her voice cracked.
I looked her in the eye.
"I know."
She took a shaky breath.
"...Then why are you making me?"
I stepped closer.
"Because sometimes the strongest thing you can do... is stay exactly where the monster thinks you're weakest."
She stared at me.
Confused. Scared. Maybe a little in awe.
I continued, calm and steady.
"I need you by his side. I need him to think you're still daddy's good little heir."
I tapped the button in her hand.
"Meanwhile, you'll be feeding me every word. Every plan. Every move."
She blinked.
"...You want me to spy on him?"
"I want you to bury him," I said softly.
"But slow. Smart. From the inside."
She looked down at the button again.
Like it suddenly had weight.
"You trust me to do this?"
I smirked just a little.
"No."
She flinched.
"But I trust the girl I saw crying in that hotel room. The one who wanted to be Valentina more than anything else."
Silence.
She looked up.
I saw it hit her.
Not fear.
Purpose.
She nodded slowly.
"...You'll be watching?"
I stepped in close, voice barely above a whisper.
"Always."
And then I whispered the words that sealed the plan—
"Stay. Smile. Record everything."
"And when the time is right... we burn it all."
My Private Surveillance HQ. Undisclosed Location. Night.
I sat in silence.
Earpiece in.
Multiple screens on.
Valentina's voice streamed through the main channel.
Her father's gravelly, arrogant tone filled the background.
Every word?
Recorded. Transcribed.
Sent to a deep backup server they'll never crack.
"...I'll need you at the Tokyo meet next month. Smile, show skin, play nice with the Yakuza heir. He's been eyeing you."
Valentina's voice, cold but polite.
"Of course, Papa."
I gritted my teeth.
Good girl act on point.
More conversation followed.
Money laundering, border deals, hush payments.
I marked timestamps.
The deeper we got, the more the plan came together.
Until—
RING. RING. RING.
Selene.
I sighed, tapped to answer.
"I'm busy."
"NO YOU'RE NOT. YOU'RE PARKED TWO BLOCKS FROM THE VERCETTI ESTATE YOU ABSOLUTE CRIMINAL GODDESS—WHY ARE YOU OUT THERE—WHY—WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME—"
I blinked.
"...How did you know?"
"HOW DID I KNOW?? BECAUSE I HACKED INTO THE TRAFFIC FEED AND YOUR HAIR GLEAMS IN 4K—I SAW THE GLINT OF YOUR NECKLACE THROUGH THE TINTED GLASS—WHY IS IT LEGAL TO LOOK THAT HOT WHILE COMMITTING FELONIES—"
I leaned back in my chair.
"I'm working."
"YOU'RE KILLING ME—YOU'RE LITERALLY OUTSIDE HER HOUSE LIKE A GODDESS IN BLACK—I AM FOUR FOOT TEN, I AM OVULATING, I AM CRAVING—"
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Selene."
"YES???"
"Go outside. Touch grass. Hydrate."
"I TOUCHED A PILLOW THAT SMELLS LIKE YOU. I LICKED IT. I AM UNWELL."
I blinked once.
Twice.
Then hung up.
Tapped back into Valentina's mic.
She was laughing at something Marco said, voice full of poison honey.
"Of course, Daddy."
I leaned forward.
Eyes sharp.
Smile slow.
"Good girl," I whispered.
And the war kept going.
The city was asleep.
I wasn't.
I sat alone, bathed in the pale blue of six monitors.
One screen: live audio feed.
Another: AI-enhanced transcription.
Two more: internal Vercetti calendar sync and encrypted voice match filtering.
All of it, stolen.
All of it, mine.
3:18 AM. Audio File 487.
Marco's voice. Cigar smoke in waveform.
"She should've been dead by now."
No context needed.
I clicked play.
Marco:
"She killed five of my best. No trace. No mercy. No hesitation."
Pause. He exhales.
"And still, Valentina defends her. I swear, if she wasn't my daughter..."
Another voice. Male. Older. Raspy.
Unknown:
"You want her gone for good?"
Marco laughs.
Short. Sharp.
Marco:
"Gone? No. I want her broken. I want her crawling. I want her to remember what it means to be property of power."
My stomach turned.
I didn't flinch.
Just typed. Logged. Saved.
3:24 AM. File 489.
Marco:
"We'll make her an example. She'll disappear for a while. Reappear when we've rebuilt her to remind the world what happens when rats try to fight lions."
Unknown:
"And the daughter?"
Marco:
"Valentina's soft. Useless right now. But she's mine. Eventually she'll obey."
My eyes narrowed.
I highlighted that line. Copied it into a side file labeled:
"Leverage Points: Valentina V."
3:31 AM. File 491. Partial capture.
Background noise: moving water, likely dockside.
Marco:
"She's not just some nobody. I know it now. She's too calm. Too composed. Like she's been through worse. That scares me."
Pause.
Marco:
"But it excites me too. Imagine the message we send if we chain up the strongest stray in the city."
Silence.
Then:
"I want every camera near her school. Every contact. Every penny she spends. If she breathes out of pattern, I want to know before she does."
My jaw clenched.
I clicked save.
Labeled the folder:
"Project: Stray."
Because that's what they were calling it now.
Not even my name.
Just the label.
A hunt.
A dismantling.
A target painted on my back.
3:41 AM. File 494. Final clip for the night.
Marco:
"Let the world keep laughing at her. Calling her cute. Poor. An orphan slut."
His voice dropped.
"They won't be laughing when I sell her bones to the highest bidder."
I stared at the screen.
Didn't blink.
Didn't cry.
Didn't scream.
I clicked Download All.
And whispered—
"Try it."
Northvale High. Next Day Morning. 8:12 AM.
The moment I walked through the gates, I felt it.
The air shifted.
Different eyes.
Too many.
Too fixed.
But my hood was up.
Back slouched just right.
Shoelaces uneven. Books clutched tight.
Emily. Not Anna.
I made sure of it.
The whispers started immediately.
"Back again, Bench Barbie?"
"Thought the orphan quit."
"Maybe she ran out of cardboard to sleep on."
I didn't look.
Didn't break character.
Two steps past the lockers—Valentina's corner.
She was leaning on it like usual. Head tilted, arms crossed, chewing gum like a brat with power.
She spotted me.
Eyes flashed with a panic she covered in less than a second.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the trash that just won't get taken out."
Ouch.
That one used to sting.
Now?
Just data.
She walked up, slow.
Smirk practiced.
"How's the streetlife treating you, Stonebrook? You sleeping on warm benches or just getting friendly with dumpsters now?"
My eyes flicked up.
Right behind her shoulder—
Janitor with military stance. Too alert.
Left hallway?
Substitute teacher flipping through a blank notebook.
Third floor railing?
Guy in a suit pretending to fix a camera that isn't broken.
I see you, Marco.
Every pawn.
Every eye.
Valentina leaned in, whispering, "I feel gross saying this. I hate myself right now—"
I cut her off.
Mid-bullying.
Winked.
Just once.
Her brain combusted.
"I—uh—you—don't look at me like that—I'm not—YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO—"
She fully forgot her lines.
Started glitching. Gibberish in real-time.
"Y-you're disgusting. I hope your bench gets... termites. Or something. God. I'm gonna combust."
I gave a soft, innocent smile.
Then tripped on "accident," dropped my books, and muttered under my breath for them to hear—
"Ugh. I'm so stupid. I ruin everything."
I made sure every planted eye saw me fumble.
Made sure they believed I was just a broken little girl again.
Because if they believe that?
They'll never see me coming.
Math Class. 11:17 AM. Third period.
The teacher was talking about linear equations.
No one was listening.
Especially not Valentina.
She was three rows ahead, left side, pretending to scroll through Instagram while secretly sneaking glances at me every 30 seconds like I was a hallucination in a sex dream.
I pulled out my phone.
Silent.
Composed.
Opened our secret encrypted app.
No labels. No trace. Just an innocuous icon named "Notes."
Typed:
ME:
You're drooling, Vercetti. Focus up.
Her reply came in 2 seconds flat.
VALENTINA:
I'm literally going to DIE you winked at me like a whore with power I AM SHAKING
VALENTINA:
You dropped your books like it was foreplay. Do you hate me. Be honest. I need closure. In your mouth. I mean emotionally—
ME:
You're going to get us both killed. Breathe. Count backwards from 10. Remember you're acting.
VALENTINA:
I'm acting like I don't want your hoodie pulled over my face while you rail me against the Vercetti family throne.
ME:
Valentina.
VALENTINA:
Sorry. Ovulating.
I sighed.
Looked up. Made eye contact with her through the desk row.
Deadpan.
She covered her face with her hand and visibly melted.
I tapped again.
ME:
Marco's goons are watching three exits. Janitor, camera crew, and the fake English sub. Keep them happy. Act daddy's girl.
ME:
Tomorrow, we test the button. I'm gonna whisper something at lunch. Don't react. Just nod.
VALENTINA:
What will you whisper.
ME:
That I'm going to destroy your father.
VALENTINA:
...
VALENTINA:
I think I came a little. I love you. Okay. I'm focused. I'm calm. I'm dying but I'm calm.
I put the phone down.
Leaning back in my chair.
Watching the world move around me.
Smiling just a little.
Because they still think I'm just a quiet, broken girl.
And they have no idea...
I'm about to make this entire empire collapse.
Northvale High. Lunch. 1:02 PM.
Cafeteria noise was deafening.
Fake laughter. Fake smiles.
Eyes watching from every angle.
Marco's men were posted at exits again.
Same fake janitor. Same "substitute."
I walked right past the lunch line, grabbed Valentina by the wrist, and whispered—
"You're with me."
No one questioned it.
We slipped through the side hallway.
Empty art wing.
Then a janitor closet I personally rewired to lock from inside.
Pushed the door open.
Pulled her in.
Locked it.
Dark.
Soundproof.
Hidden.
Perfect.
Secret Room. 1:04 PM.
She was panting.
Not because we ran.
Because I touched her.
She was practically vibrating with thirst.
I ignored her.
Pulled a folded paper out of my bra and slapped it onto the old desk.
"Tonight," I said flatly.
"Marco's men will make a fake shipment run to the docks. Distraction. The real play is the auction happening in Warehouse 7. Underground, unlisted, off-books. Girls. Weapons. Documents."
She blinked.
"...How do you even—"
"I got it before Marco did."
She stared at the paper. Then back at me.
Eyes wide. Voice soft.
"...You're terrifying."
I smiled.
"Good."
I walked over to the side cabinet, pulled out the hidden speaker I planted here two weeks ago just in case this exact moment ever came.
"We're not just stopping the trade. We're going to copy the entire client list. Blackmail fuel. Leverage. Names that'll collapse alliances from Naples to Bangkok."
Valentina looked like she was trying to listen.
She was failing.
Badly.
Her eyes dropped to my hips. My legs. The slight shift of my hoodie.
I turned to grab my phone and mid-turn—
My thighs clenched slightly.
Hng.
"...Ow."
Scratched casually.
Just a quick itch. Low. Discreet.
But it was enough.
I heard her step closer.
I turned.
Too late.
Valentina grabbed my wrist.
Pulled my hand up.
And sniffed.
"OH MY GOD—"
I yanked it back immediately.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"I blacked out!! I'm sorry!!"
"NO. YOU'RE NOT SORRY. YOU'RE HORNY."
"I'M SORRY AND HORNY."
"TOUCH GRASS, VERCETTI."
She didn't move.
Still starstruck. Still breathing like a sinner in church.
I stormed to the door, flung it open, and pointed.
"Out. Now. Go breathe in leaves. Hug a fucking tree."
She tiptoed past me, whispering—
"...Still the hottest thing I've ever seen."
SLAM.
I locked the door again.
And muttered under my breath.
"Fucking mafia lesbians."