Chapter 10 - The Secret Identity
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"I'm fine, I'm fine," I gasped, clutching my bleeding arm as Victor hauled me up, shielding my body entirely with his massive frame.
The ballroom was a war zone of screaming guests and mobilizing security details. Victor’s men flooded the room, forming an impenetrable wall of suited bodies around us.
"Get her to the car! Now!" Victor bellowed, his voice filled with a terrifying, apocalyptic panic.
We were rushed through the service corridors, surrounded by armed guards, and thrown into the back of the armored SUV. The tires screeched as the vehicle tore out of the loading dock, abandoning the gala to the chaos.
Victor ripped his tuxedo jacket off, pressing the expensive fabric tightly against the bleeding graze on my arm. His hands were shaking violently.
"You stepped in front of a bullet for me," Victor breathed, his gray eyes wide with absolute horror and disbelief. "Are you insane, Harper? You could have been killed!"
"I saw the gun," I choked out, the adrenaline finally crashing, leaving me dizzy and shivering. "I didn't want him to take Finn's father."
Victor stared at me, the profound weight of my action completely shattering the remaining ice around his heart.
Before he could speak, the armored partition dropped. His head of security, Marcus, looked back with a grim expression.
"Boss. We secured Lorenzo Falcone at the scene," Marcus reported. "But he was laughing. He said the hit wasn't just for you."
Victor frowned, his jaw tightening. "What does he mean?"
"He said he recognized the woman on your arm, Boss," Marcus continued, his eyes darting to me. "Lorenzo said, 'Tell the Rossi boss he's sleeping with the enemy. Ask her who her father really was.'"
My blood ran completely cold.
Victor looked down at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Harper, what is he talking about? Your parents died in a car accident when you were a teenager."
"They did," I whispered, panic rising in my throat as forgotten fragments of my childhood began to violently piece themselves together. The strange men visiting our house at night. The sudden moves. The absolute secrecy my father demanded.
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"Harper," Victor said, his voice dropping an octave, demanding truth. "Who was your father?"
"I don't know," I cried, pulling away from his grip, clutching my bleeding arm. "Victor, I swear to God, I don't know!"
