"Nobody follows me! I'm going home now. If any business matter come up, you handle them. I'm leaving everything in your hands, yours and Zara's."
The sheer coldness in phoebe's voice made Celia flinched. She stared at Phoebe, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait, Phoebe! I'm not even an employee here! I'm not part of your corporate payroll!"
Phoebe turned, her gaze so sharp it felt like a physical strike. "I don't care about your commentary. Just do it! If you won't help me as a friend, then I'll pay you as a freelancer!" Her fury had reached its boiling point.
She snatched her designer bag and her phone from the desk, her movements erratic but purposeful.
"Hey! I was joking, okay?" Celia called out, her voice rising in panic as Phoebe reached for the door. "I'm just worried about you going out there alone. I don't want anything to happen to you!"
"I have business to attend to, Celia! You don't need to worry about me. I'm not some fool who's going to sit on the curb and cry."
Despite the warning, Celia and Zara scrambled after her, their footsteps echoing behind her in the long, minimalist hallway. The sound of phoebe's stilettos clicked rhythmically against the floor, a fast and deadly beat, until she suddenly halted. She spun around, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, icy light that stopped both women in their tracks.
"Don't follow me." Phoebe hissed, her voice low and laced with a terrifying threat. "Or I will make sure neither of you can go anywhere ever again."
The hallway went dead silent. The threat hung in the air, heavy and absolute. Before they could even breathe, Phoebe turned and vanished toward the private elevator, leaving the scent of her expensive perfume and a trail of unresolved chaos behind her.
"I think it's better if we just let her be for a while," Zara's voice surprisingly calm, despite the chaos. She watched the elevator doors close, trying to process the storm they had just witnessed. "No matter how we look at it, she's in shock. She's confused, and she's probably not ready to discuss any of this with us, not when it's all so raw."
Celia let out a long, ragged sigh, her hands still trembling. "I know, I know. But I'm terrified of what she's going to do next."
Meanwhile, Phoebe moved through the building like a force of nature. Her strides were precise and unwavering. She ignored the staff members who greeted her, her icy stare and hardened expression acting as a barrier that no one dared to cross. She headed straight for the executive parking level where her car awaited.
She hesitated for a split second as she looked at the sleek lines of the Porsche. A gift from Raymond. A bitter taste rose in her throat, but she quickly quelled it. She wasn't some cheap, melodramatic girl who would refuse to drive the car just to make a point. If Raymond ever tried to use this gift against her, she would simply write him a check for the full amount and be done with it. She wasn't just a model, she was a woman of means.
As she pulled out into the city traffic, the silence of the cabin was filled only by the aggressive ringing of her phone. She dialed his number again, and again. Each time, it went to his professional voicemail or drifted into an endless, taunting silence.
"Ugh! Damn it!" Phoebe screamed, slamming her palm against the steering wheel. "Where is that bastard?! What is he doing that's so important he can't pick up my call?!"
Frustration boiled over, and she clawed at her perfectly styled hair, messing it up in a rare display of total disarray. The 'Boss' was gone, replaced by a woman who had been pushed to her absolute limit, driving a car gifted by the very man who had just become her greatest problem.
*****
While Phoebe was drowning in a sea of frustration, Raymond Rodriguez stood atop one of his skyscrapers. The city below was a sprawling carpet of lights, but up here, the air was freezing and thin. The moon hung low, casting a ghostly glow over the rooftop, a silent witness to the carnage that was about to unfold.
Raymond had already ordered his men to clear out the smaller players. Now, only three 'rats' remained, trembling on their knees before him.
"I've never had a problem with greed," Raymond began, his voice a low, rhythmic purr that cut through the whistling wind. "Greed is a motivator. It pushes men to achieve the impossible. But …" He paused, his eyes turning into shards of ice. "I despise betrayal."
To Raymond, betrayal wasn't just a sin, it was a personal insult.
"And more than that, I refuse to work with fools. Yet, here you are, combining stupidity and treason as if it were a virtue." Raymond tilted his head, a mocking, lopsided smile touching his lips.
"Please … Raymond! We didn't mean for it to go this far! We were desperate, we needed a way out!" one of them stammered, his voice cracking with terror.
"You collaborated with them, sold my shipping routes behind my back just to line your own pockets, all while you were still on my payroll?" Raymond stepped, closer, the clicking of his shoes against the concrete sounding like a death knell. "Were you truly that desperate for extra cash, or were you simply tired of living? Because selling my secrets is essentially writing your own death warrant."
"Raymond … listen, we can fix this! They haven't made their move yet. We can stop it!"
The look of pure disdain on Raymond's face was enough to silence the entire rooftop. He looked as if he wanted to spit on them. "There is no 'fixing' a broken oath."
Panic surged though the three men, they hadn't expected him to find out so soon. Desperation turned into a frantic bid for survival. "We'll pay it all back! We'll give you everything! We even know their weakness, Raymond. That's worth more than our lives, isn't it?"
Raymond's brow furrowed slightly as they began to spill every secret they knew. They traded their allies' lives for a chance at their own, detailing weaknesses and hidden assets that could indeed bring Raymond's rivals to their knees.
"We think this more than enough to make up for our mistake," the leader whispered, hopeful. "We can even stay close to them, act as your eyes and ears. We can feed you everything you want."
Raymond let out a cold, dry scoff. "You've already promised them your silence, yet here you are, whispering their secrets to me without a second thought. Tell me … why should I ever believe a word that comes out of you mouths again?"
"Boss, you can trust us! We're proving our loyalty right now!"
Raymond reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy object. It was a custom-made ST Dupont lighter, crafted from solid blackened gold with a diamond-encrusted dragon etched onto the side. It was a symbol of his status, elegant, expensive, and lethal.
"Actually, I wanted to handle this personally," Raymond flicked the lighter open. The metallic ping was sharp and crystalline. "But I have no desire to stain my hands with the filth of traitors. These hands will soon be holding a very beautiful woman, and I have no interest in her smelling the charred remains of rats."
He gave a subtle nod to his men, a silent command. He flicked the lighter, the blue flame dancing in the dark for a second before he closed it with a final, echoing snap.
"I don't want them to see another sunrise, make sure they don't even have enough breath left to scream."
Enzo stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the rooftop as he approached Raymond. "Forgive me, Boss. A moment of your time."
"How is it?" Raymond asked, his eyes still fixed on the city skyline. "Is everything handled? Drain every single one of their accounts. I don't want a single cent left in their names."
"It's done, Boss. Everything is settled. But … I must inform you left your phone; it hasn't stopped ringing."
Raymond's brow furrowed, he grabbed the phone from Enzo, his eyes widening as he scrolled through the dozens of notifications. "The Lady from Australia, Boss."
The name hit him like a jolt. Raymond's expression shifted instantly, the cold, calculating mask of the Mafia Boss cracked. He hadn't expected her to reach out, let alone with such persistence.
"Why could she call me this many times?" he muttered, he stepped away from the edge of the roof, the curiosity and a strange sense of anticipation pushing him to dial her back immediately.
"Hello," Raymond said, his voice dropping into a smooth, velvet tone. It was a stark contrast to the man who had just ordered a hit. "It's a pleasant surprise to see so many calls from you. What can I do for you, Miss Fortunata?"
"Cut the small talk! Where the hell are you right now?!" Phoebe's voice sliced through the line, sharp and dripping with an unbridled fury that Raymond could feel even across the ocean.
Raymond paused, a slight, intrigued smile playing on his lips. "Why? Do you miss me that much? Are you dying to see me?"
"Yes, I want to see you, but it's sure as hell not because I miss you!"
The sheer intensity in her tone made Raymond's smile fade, he realized this wasn't one of their usual games of with and flirtation. Something was very wrong.
"Then what is it?"
"Where are you? We need to meet. In person. Now!"
Raymond stood silent for a heartbeat. He could hear the jagged edge in her breathing. She didn't just want a meeting, she was coming for blood.
What happened? He wondered. And why does she sound like she wants to burn the world down?