Chapter 13
Vercetti Estate. Outside. 8:11 PM.
The night was thick.
Quiet.
Deceptive.
I sat in the backseat of a sleek black sedan, engine off, tucked under the giant oak trees that lined the Vercetti mansion property.
Black maid uniform.
Low-cut neckline.
Short skirt.
Subtle fake badge clipped near my chest that read "Vercetti Housekeeping – Clearance Level 3."
Hair pinned up.
Minimal makeup.
Just another pretty little face working the estate.
The perfect ghost.
Tablet in my lap.
Hacked into the Vercetti private security grid.
Ten camera feeds open.
Every hallway.
Every ballroom.
Every parlor room.
All glowing live in front of me.
The screen flickered.
Front foyer cam.
Valentina entered.
My heart clenched without showing it.
She was breathtaking.
Satin navy-blue dress.
Elegant. Tight around her ribs.
High slit up her thigh.
Neckline dangerously low.
Her face was calm, perfect.
But her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her clutch bag.
I zoomed in tighter.
Her breathing was off.
Shallow.
Controlled panic.
She bowed her head slightly as Marco came striding out of the corridor.
Marco smiled.
Fake warmth.
Arms out.
"Princesa," he said, loud and syrupy. "You look stunning. Just as I promised our guests."
My jaw flexed.
I shifted the screen feed.
Back parlor.
Matteo Calderón entered.
I knew it was him instantly.
The slimy way he licked his teeth as he walked.
Greasy black hair.
Expensive jacket.
Soulless eyes.
And behind him—
his father.
Victor Calderón.
Older. Bulkier. Same dead shark smile.
The audio feed kicked in, boosted from Selene's hack layers.
Marco's voice oozed across the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is my daughter, Valentina. My most precious asset."
Matteo whistled low under his breath.
I heard it crystal clear:
"Mmm. Look at those hips. Built to breed."
Victor chuckled.
Disgusting.
Marco just laughed along.
"You'll enjoy her. She's still untouched. Imagine the pride when she's broken in by your bloodline."
My knuckles turned white around the steering wheel.
Another comment from Matteo:
"I'm gonna make her scream so sweet the whole city will know who she belongs to."
Victor added:
"You sure she's not gonna bite? She looks like a feisty one."
Marco's voice?
Proud.
Boasting.
"Break her spirit. It's all yours after the marriage. Body. Mind. Whatever you want."
I stared at the screens.
At Valentina's frozen smile.
At the way she clutched the clutch tighter until her knuckles whitened.
At the tiny tremble in her lower lip.
I inhaled once.
Long.
Slow.
Deadly.
My eyes flicked across the screen feeds.
Mapping the guards.
The exits.
The pathways.
The blind spots.
My voice was barely a whisper inside the car.
"Just a little longer, princesa.
Let them think they're safe.
Till I make my move."
I sat back.
Silent.
Patient.
Waiting for the exact second to strike.
Vercetti Estate. 8:46 PM.
The moment finally came.
Through the car window, I spotted one of the guards stepping out for a smoke break.
Alone.
Perfect.
I moved.
Swift. Silent.
Before he even realized someone was behind him, my arm wrapped around his throat.
Pressure points. Chokehold.
He slumped like a ragdoll into the bushes.
I stripped the ball mask off his belt.
Fixed it over my face.
Slick black. Full cover. Only the eyes exposed.
A nameless, faceless servant of the night.
I slipped through the side gate.
Merged into the party.
Music low.
Candles flickering.
Marco sitting at the grand table, surrounded by Vercetti lieutenants, business partners, cartel heirs.
Valentina sat there too.
Eyes blank.
Posture perfect.
Dying inside.
Matteo sat next to her, legs spread arrogantly, openly staring at her chest like he already owned her.
I kept my head down.
Played the role.
Passing through the living room, Marco called out:
"Hey. You. Drinks for everyone at the table. Now."
Perfect.
He didn't even look twice.
Didn't know death just answered his order.
Vercetti Kitchen. 8:49 PM.
I pushed through the swinging doors.
Six maids inside.
Too many witnesses.
I smiled under the mask.
"Get out."
They blinked.
Hesitated.
"I said—OUT."
My voice carried something dark.
Something that made them listen without thinking.
They scattered.
Gone.
I locked the kitchen door behind me.
Turned to the silver trays of glasses.
Poured champagne into each one.
Twelve glasses total.
But Matteo's?
Matteo's got something extra.
From my hidden pocket, I pulled out a tiny vial.
Colorless. Odorless. Tasteless.
Polonium-210.
Nuclear-grade poison.
Undetectable in alcohol.
Slow-acting.
Tonight?
Matteo would feel fine.
Would laugh. Drink. Scheme.
But by morning?
Massive internal organ failure.
Complete neurological collapse.
Dead within 24 hours.
A king dying without even knowing he'd been poisoned.
I stirred the champagne gently.
Finished the tray.
Reset my posture.
And walked back through the doors.
Grand Dining Room. 8:54 PM.
I moved gracefully between the guests.
Masked. Silent.
Placed drinks in front of each man.
One glass in front of Marco.
Another for Victor Calderón.
One for each bodyguard.
And finally—
Matteo Calderón.
I placed the poisoned flute in front of him with a soft bow.
He grinned at me like I was nothing but a serving girl.
"Good girl," he said, winking.
I fought the urge to shatter the glass over his head right there.
Instead, I turned.
Started to walk away.
And as I passed behind Valentina—
I leaned just close enough—
Fingers brushing her silky hair—
And gently, sharply, pulled a lock.
Not hard.
Just enough.
Enough to tell her.
I'm here.
She froze.
Head snapping slightly.
Eyes wide.
But she didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't react.
Just like I trained her to do.
I disappeared back into the kitchen.
Hidden.
Watching.
Waiting.
Because when that drink hit Matteo's bloodstream—
It was the beginning of the end.
Vercetti Estate. Grand Dining Room. 9:01 PM.
I stayed hidden behind the kitchen wall.
Pulled out one of my burner phones.
Name registered under an old fake identity:
Lola Santos.
Best friend profile.
Backstory built years ago.
Emergency cover.
I dialed.
One ring.
Two.
Valentina's purse buzzed.
I watched her freeze slightly.
Pick it up.
Look at the caller ID.
Lola.
Perfect.
She stood, smile delicate.
"Excuse me," she said sweetly, holding up the phone. "My friend Lola's calling. Something important. I'll be quick."
Marco waved her off with a casual chuckle.
"No pressure, princesa. Handle it. Come back when you can."
Victor Calderón grunted approvingly.
Matteo didn't even care, already pouring himself another poisoned glass.
I tucked the phone away.
Slipped through the side hallways.
Texted her next.
ME:
Maintenance Room. Now.
...
Maintenance Room. 9:07 PM.
Fluorescent flicker overhead.
Empty.
Tools. Cleaning supplies. Utility panels.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Waiting.
The door creaked open.
Valentina stepped in.
Slammed it shut.
And immediately?
Feral.
She practically pounced.
Hands slamming against the wall beside my head.
Breath shaky.
Face flushed so deep it looked like she'd run six marathons and orgasmed seven times on the way.
"You—" she hissed under her breath. "You—you—you."
I raised an eyebrow calmly.
"Me?"
"YOU FUCKING PULLED MY HAIR."
I smirked lazily.
"You got the message."
She was vibrating.
Fists clenching and unclenching.
Body literally throbbing with rage and lust all mixed into one violent tornado.
"You—you—you're dressed like a maid—smelling like danger—and you—"
She punched the wall beside my face lightly, growling under her breath.
"I almost came at the table because of you, you terrorist."
I tilted my head.
"Focus, Vercetti."
She made a tiny screeching noise.
Actually screeched.
"I am ONE SECOND from ripping your hoodie off and riding you like a stolen horse in the broom closet."
I chuckled low under my breath.
Leaned closer.
Voice a knife:
"Save it for after the funeral."
Her whole body shivered.
She backed up.
Barely.
Chest heaving.
Face glowing.
Teeth gritted like she was physically holding herself back.
"Fine," she muttered like she was promising revenge. "But after Matteo drops dead—your ass is mine."
I smiled lazily.
"You think you can survive me?"
She pointed dramatically.
"You're evil. You're hotter than sin. And you're going to pay."
Then she spun around.
Straightened her dress.
Fixed her makeup in the reflection of the supply closet window.
Voice perfectly calm:
"Going back now. Before Daddy thinks I'm getting cold feet."
She opened the door.
Paused.
Looked back over her shoulder.
"Just so you know—
when you pulled my hair? I saw God."
Door slammed.
I leaned back against the wall.
Smirking.
Knowing she wouldn't last long.
Knowing none of them would.
Because tonight?
The Vercetti name started rotting from the inside out.
I watched her glance at her phone under the table.
No reaction on her face.
A perfect actress.
A second later, Valentina stood up, clinking her glass.
"Ladies and gentlemen, a toast!" she announced sweetly. "To new alliances!"
The men roared with approval.
Marco laughed loudly, grabbing his champagne.
I moved.
Silent.
Ghostlike.
Marco's Private Wing. 9:21 PM.
No one was allowed here.
Not even Valentina.
Not the staff.
Only Marco.
Exactly why I needed to be here.
I picked the lock to his bedroom in twelve seconds flat.
Slipped inside.
Lavish.
Dark.
Heavy oak furniture.
Marble floors.
Gold accents.
Cigar smoke clinging to the walls.
But I wasn't here for aesthetics.
I headed straight to the far side—the heavy oak door hidden behind the drapes.
Marco's private office.
Locked, of course.
I pulled a tiny tool from under my maid skirt.
Bypassed the security pin in three clicks.
Door swung open.
And inside?
Secrets.
Stacks of paper.
Ledgers.
Unregistered bank accounts.
Maps.
Shipping routes.
Photos.
Photos of missing girls from around the world.
Detailed files tracking them like livestock.
Price tags.
Weight. Height. Age.
Sickening.
Even I had to pause for a second, jaw clenching.
In the bottom drawer—
A hidden folder.
Labeled:
"Contingency Plans – Asset Disposal"
Inside?
Contracts.
Betrayal plans.
Blackmail schemes.
List of corrupt cops, politicians, FBI agents all bought by Marco Vercetti.
Photos too.
Evidence.
Deals.
Names I didn't even think he could touch.
I snapped pictures of everything on my second burner phone.
Bagged a few small hard drives too.
But then—
Footsteps.
Outside.
Heavy boots.
Multiple guards.
Patrol route must've changed.
I swore under my breath.
No time to erase traces.
I slipped the burner phone and the drives into my bag.
Backed out of the office.
Glided through the bedroom.
But as I hit the hallway—
One of the guards spotted me.
"HEY! WHO ARE YOU?!"
No hesitation.
No freezing.
I turned on my heel and ran.
Hard.
Fast.
Vercetti Estate Grounds. 9:34 PM.
Boots thundering behind me.
Shouts echoing.
Guns drawn.
But I was faster.
Always faster.
I vaulted the back fence, tucked my body low, hit the ground rolling.
Didn't stop.
My SUV was hidden three blocks away behind the construction site.
I sprinted.
Heart calm.
Breath controlled.
Not a panic run.
An assassin's run.
A ghost slipping into the night.
I jumped into the SUV.
Doors locked.
Engine ignited.
Tires spinning.
I peeled off into the darkness, vanishing before the guards even reached the street.
In the SUV. 9:39 PM.
I caught my breath.
Hands steady on the wheel.
Smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.
Tomorrow?
I was going to the police station under another identity.
Because even with my tech skills, what I found tonight?
I needed every ounce of leverage possible to rip Marco's empire down to the rubble.
This was no longer just about Valentina.
Or me.
This was about exposing an entire corrupt system.
And it started with the death of a monster's son.
And the fall of a king.
Vercetti Estate. Grand Ballroom. 10:07 PM.
The dinner was winding down.
The poison was working slow through Matteo's veins.
But for tonight?
He still sat there.
Laughing.
Drinking.
Touching Valentina's waist like he had any right.
Marco clinked his glass.
Stood up tall, voice booming.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he announced.
The whole room hushed.
"I am honored to present... the future of the Vercetti-Calderón alliance!"
He grabbed Valentina's hand roughly.
Pulled her up beside him.
Forced her to stand next to Matteo.
Forced her to smile.
"The engagement is official.
Valentina Vercetti will marry Matteo Calderón one month from today!"
Thunderous applause.
Cameras flashing.
Men clapping like they were sealing a cattle deal.
Valentina smiled.
But it was hollow.
Empty.
A portrait of a girl trapped in a glass coffin.
She pressed a hand discreetly to the pearl earring.
Hidden mic.
Hidden speaker.
And through it?
She heard it.
My laugh.
Low.
Ruthless.
"Funny," I whispered through the earpiece, sitting casually behind the wheel of my SUV down the block, "Matteo's gotta be alive to get engaged in the first place."
I smirked.
Shifted gears.
U-turned out of the quiet street.
Straight into the misty glow of the city's nighttime fog.
Gone like a ghost.
Vercetti Mansion. 10:51 PM.
Valentina sat in her bedroom.
Still in her satin dress.
Door locked.
Lights dim.
Back against the headboard.
Earpiece still active.
Still listening.
Still breathing with me on the other side.
"Already heading home?" she whispered softly.
Voice cracked a little.
I adjusted the phone on my dashboard.
Driving slowly into the city night.
Fog weaving between the street lamps.
"Yeah," I answered casually, voice flat.
"Probably gonna crash on a park bench tonight. Got nowhere to stay for now."
She stiffened.
"What? Why?"
I shrugged like she could see me.
"Moved outta Selene's place. Too risky now. Too many eyes."
I yawned a little.
No dramatics.
Just a tired, brutal truth.
"Still an orphan, right?
Still nobody's girl."
The line went silent for a second.
Then Valentina—
Feral.
She growled through the earpiece.
Literally growled.
"THE FUCK YOU MEAN PARK BENCH—"
I chuckled.
"Chill, princesa."
"NO. FUCK THAT. TURN AROUND. COME BACK."
"I'm good."
"YOU'RE SLEEPING IN MY BED TONIGHT OR I'M BURNING THIS ENTIRE HOUSE DOWN."
I smirked wider.
"I'll be fine."
"NO YOU WON'T.
YOU'RE MINE.
MY PROBLEM.
MY ORPHAN.
MY FUCKING GIRL."
I blinked slowly at the traffic light.
"...Damn, Valentina."
She was practically feral over the speaker now.
"I'M SERIOUS.
YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE HOMELESS.
YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE ALONE.
YOU'RE SLEEPING IN MY FUCKING ARMS TONIGHT OR I'M COMMITTING WAR CRIMES."
I laughed under my breath.
Turned the car down a side alley.
"Alright, alright, chill."
"You're mine," she hissed like an animal.
"You're fucking mine."
But I got many eyes following me
I gotta be careful.
So I gotta be alone tonight.