Chapter 2 - The Black Card and the Red Notice
The rain had turned into a steady, freezing drizzle by the time Cassidy stepped out of the employee entrance of Le Perla. She was wrapped in her thin, threadbare winter coat, her wet canvas shoes squeaking against the slick pavement of the alleyway.
In her right hand, tucked safely inside her coat pocket, she held the sleek black card Alessandro had left on the table.
Her head was spinning. One hour ago, she was a disgraced college dropout pouring coffee for men who viewed her as background noise. Now, she was unemployed, holding a mafia boss’s personal token, and wondering if she was going to end up in a concrete block at the bottom of the East River.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, her heart dropping when she saw the caller ID: Queens General Hospital - Dialysis Center.
She pressed the phone to her ear with trembling fingers. "Hello? Dr. Vance?"
"Cassidy, I'm sorry to call you so late," the doctor’s tired voice came through the speaker. "I know you said you’d have the partial payment by tomorrow, but the hospital administration just flagged your mother’s account. If we don't clear the $14,000 overdue balance by 8:00 AM, they are placing her on administrative discharge. We won't be able to run her morning session."
"No! Please, Dr. Vance, you can't!" Cassidy sobbed softly, hiding in the shadow of the alley. "I worked tonight, I have... I have some money coming! Just give me until noon!"
"My hands are tied, Cassidy. The billing department locked the system. I'm so sorry."
The line went dead.
Cassidy slid down the wet brick wall of the alley, her knees pulling up to her chest. The rain soaked through her pants, but she barely felt it. Fourteen thousand dollars. She didn't have fourteen hundred. She didn't even have fourteen. Her mother would die without dialysis. It was that simple, that cruel, and that fast.
A long, sleek black limousine pulled up to the mouth of the alley, its tires purring against the wet asphalt.
The rear door opened. A large man in a tailored dark coat stepped out holding a black umbrella. He walked with a heavy, disciplined stride that practically screamed military training.
He stopped in front of Cassidy, holding the umbrella over her head to block the rain.
"Miss Miller?" the man asked. His voice was deep, polite, but completely unyielding.
Cassidy looked up, her eyes red and tear-streaked. "Are you here to kill me?"
The man didn't smile. "My name is Salvatore. Mr. DeLuca does not kill people who save him two hundred million dollars. He invites them to breakfast. Please, step into the car."
Cassidy looked at the black car, then down at the sleek card in her hand. She had no money. She had no job. Her mother was hours away from being thrown out of a hospital bed. She had nothing left to lose.
"Is there... is there a phone in the car?" Cassidy asked, her voice cracking.
"There is a encrypted satellite phone, a warm meal, and a dry set of clothes," Salvatore replied, gesturing toward the open door. "Mr. DeLuca anticipates all of his guests' needs."
Cassidy stood up, wiped her face with her wet sleeve, and walked into the back of the limousine.
The interior smelled of expensive leather, cedar, and vintage wine. On the plush leather seat lay a dry cashmere sweater, tailored trousers, and a brand-new pair of leather boots in her exact size. Beside them sat a silver tray with hot soup, fresh bread, and an iPad displaying a live bank interface.
Cassidy froze, staring at the tablet.
On the screen was her mother’s hospital account ledger at Queens General.
Overdue Balance: $0.00 Account Status: PAID IN FULL (Wire Transfer - DeLuca Enterprise Trust) Advance Credit Balance: $250,000.00
Cassidy’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the numbers, her hands shaking so violently she dropped her coat.
Below the ledger, a short, handwritten text message was displayed on the screen:
A small advance for services rendered. The coffee was terrible, but your eye for detail is priceless. - A.D.
May you like
Cassidy slumped back onto the leather seat, covering her face with her hands as deep, heavy sobs tore through her chest. For the first time in five years, she wasn't drowning. For the first time in five years, her mother was safe.
The limousine pulled out into the Manhattan traffic, gliding silently toward the high-rise penthouses of the Upper East Side.
