Chapter 1 - The One-Way Mirror
|
The darkness inside the surveillance room was suffocating, smelling of old dust and cold electrical wiring. It was a space designed for paranoia, built by my father decades ago when the Costa syndicate was fighting a bloody war for control of the city. I had never needed to use it. Until today.
Through the thick, one-way glass, my mother’s bedroom was bathed in the harsh, pale light of a Tuesday afternoon. Sylvia Costa lay trapped in the center of a massive orthopedic bed, her body rendered motionless by a stroke that had stolen her independence six months ago.
I watched as the heavy mahogany door swung open. Audrey walked in.
She wore a pristine white cashmere sweater and a gold watch that I had bought for her last Christmas. She looked like the perfect, aristocratic daughter of a federal judge. But the moment the door clicked shut behind her, the angelic smile melted off her face, replaced by a sneer of absolute, unadulterated disgust.
My mother made a dry, desperate rasping sound from the back of her throat. Her frail, bruised hand twitched toward the crystal pitcher of water resting on the nightstand.
“Oh, stop it,” Audrey snapped, her voice dripping with venom.
I pressed my palms flat against the cold glass, my heart hammering a violent, murderous rhythm against my ribs.
Audrey picked up the water pitcher. She didn't pour it into a glass. She held it over the edge of the mattress and tilted it, letting the clear, freezing liquid spill directly onto the hardwood floor.
“You are a burden,” Audrey whispered, leaning over my paralyzed mother. “You’re taking too long to die.”
My mother’s eyes filled with helpless tears.
May you like
Then, Audrey reached into her designer pocket. She pulled out two red-and-yellow capsules. She didn't offer a drink to help them go down. She brutally grabbed my mother’s jaw, forcing her mouth open, and shoved the dry capsules deep into her throat, holding her mouth clamped shut until Sylvia was forced to swallow.
Every instinct in my bloodline screamed at me to kick the hidden door open and snap Audrey’s neck. But I am Victor Costa. I do not act on rage. I act on strategy. I needed to know the depth of this betrayal before I burned her world to the ground.
