Black List

Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE

I knew that being a miserable waitress was one of the proofs that I was strong enough to endure anything, but today I was humiliated, my pride wounded, and the worst of it was that I was fired, all because of a glass of whiskey.

Oh, Mom, I wish you were here with me right now. I don’t even know how you are now. I’m lost, Mom. I’m not as strong as you. I do⁸n’t know what to do with my life anymore.

“Forgive me, Mom. I think you didn’t raise a good daughter,” I said with a smile on my face, my eyes brimming with tears, but it wasn’t a real smile, and the tears held back everything I had kept inside me for a long time.

A strange sensation invaded me. I stopped crying. Something was telling me that something was wrong. Sitting at the table, I saw a black envelope sliding under my door. It was 23:47.

No sender, no stamp. Only my name written by hand: LINA MORAES.

Black ink, slanted handwriting, the same handwriting as the threatening letters my mother used to receive before she was hospitalized.

My blood ran cold.

My mother always told me everything. She never hid anything from me.

Inside there was a sheet. A list.

Nine names, all crossed out with a thick red X.

Except the last one.

10. LINA MORAES.

My phone vibrated at the same moment. Unknown number.

I answered with trembling hands.

“Your mother must be missing you,” the voice on the other end was low, hoarse, like whiskey with ice. “She asked about you.”

In that same instant I remembered him. “No, it can’t be you.”

A low laugh. Dangerous.

“You have 24 hours, Valentina. Or your name gets a red X too.”

The call dropped.

I kept staring at the list, at my name, clean, just waiting for blood.

Until the doorbell rang.

That froze me. I stood still, unable to move.

Once, twice, three times.

It was as if my body was trapped and wouldn’t obey me at all.

I peeked through the peephole.

A tall man in a black suit, dark hair messy as if he’d just come from a fight, or from a bed.

He lifted his head as if he could feel me watching him.

Gray eyes, cold, half-dead.

He smiled, but it wasn’t a good smile.

It was a promise that my life had just turned into hell.

He whispered loud enough for me to hear through the door:

“Open up, Valentina. I’m number 1 on your list.”

The only one who ever called me like that was Valen.

With my heart almost in my mouth, hand over my mouth, holding back the dread.

The door opened suddenly.

He came in as if it were his house. He didn’t look like the same man from the bar… he was cold. Lifeless. Eyes hungry for something more. For me.

“Sorry for coming at this hour. I just couldn’t wait any longer,” a fake smile on his face, full of mockery.

He got closer and closer to me.

I lost my balance and collapsed to my knees on the floor.

“Ah… you don’t need to be so devout,” he mocked me again.

He grabbed me by the wrist. His hand was cold, like a walking corpse.

He squeezed so hard that blood came out, and then, right after, he let go of my hand.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Oh, Valentina… did you already forget our deal, or do you want to see your mother in a coffin?”

My world collapsed completely.

He pulled out a paper from nowhere, along with a quill. It looked like it was from a crow, with a golden tip.

“Sign here.”

I don’t know what came over me. Looking at the paper, “I’ll only sign on one condition,” I found the courage and my voice came out. Trembling. Timid. Afraid. Broken.

“You know what I like most about my prey, Valentina? The smell of fear. It’s so pleasant.”

“There’s no negotiation with me. You comply with the contract, and I’ll do my part,” he said.

My hand trembling, my handwriting came out shaky, like a child learning how to write.

Satisfied, he clapped his hands with pride in himself.

He took the paper and turned his back toward the door. Every step he took felt like a death sentence for me.

His steps stopped suddenly. Between the door, I felt his gaze pin me down. My heart raced as if it knew more was coming.

“For today, that’s it,” he said.

“And oh, Valentina… send a Hi to me in red boy.

The door didn’t close behind him. It clicked shut on its own, heavy and final, like a vault sealing.

I stayed on the floor. My knees burned. My wrist burned worse where his cold fingers had drawn blood. The mark was already dark, purple at the edges. A brand. He didn’t need a ring. He marked me with pain.

The quill and the paper lay on the rug where he’d dropped them. The ink on my name was still wet, trembling in a handwriting that wasn’t mine. It looked like a child’s. Like Lina Moraes begging.

I crawled to it. My hands shook too much to pick it up at first. When I did, the paper felt heavier than it should. Thicker. Old. I unfolded it fully.

It wasn’t a contract. Not like the ones from lawyers. It was a vow. Old English, looping letters, written in the same black ink as the list.

_I, Valentina Rossi, bind myself to Valen Crowe for six moons and one blood heir. I shall obey. I shall bear. I shall not flee. If I break this vow, Sofia Rossi and Chiara Moraes die before the dawn._

My breath left me. Chiara. He knew about Chiara. He knew everything. The paper didn’t smell like ink. It smelled like rust. Like old blood.

Footsteps echoed in the hall. His footsteps. He wasn’t gone. He was waiting outside. Listening.

“Do you like the red, Valentina?” His voice came through the door, muffled but clear. Amused. “It suits you. Even on your knees.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. If I opened my mouth, I’d scream or I’d beg.

The hallway light spilled under the door in a thin, cruel line. I stared at it like it was a lifeline.

“You have until dawn to decide if you hate me enough to run,” he said. “But remember the list. Remember the X. Remember that I’m number one for a reason.”

Silence. Then the sound of an elevator dinging. Distant. Final.

He was gone.

I let myself collapse fully then. Forehead to the cold floor. The tears came again, but they weren’t the same. These weren’t tears of weakness. These were hot. Angry. The tears of a girl who’d just signed her life away and realized she’d do it again for her mother.

The red dress hung in my closet. I could see it from here. The one he told me to wear. The one I swore I’d only wear to a funeral.

Tomorrow at 8 AM, Crowe Tower, 60th floor.

I’d go in red. I’d go as Valentina.

But Lina Moraes was already planning how to burn the tower down.

Outside, the city was quiet. Inside, my heart was screaming.

And in my hand, the paper with my blood on it pulsed like it was alive.

The devil had my signature.

But he didn’t have my soul. Not yet.

I pressed the paper to my chest and felt the wet spot where my blood had seeped through. Warm. Alive. Proof that this was real and not some nightmare I could wake from. The tremor in my hands hadn’t stopped. It wouldn’t stop until he was dead or I was free.

On the floor, the red X’s on the list seemed to stare back at me. Nine dead. One left. Me.

If he thought I’d just sign and surrender, he didn’t know the Rossi blood in me. My mother didn’t raise a coward. She raised a girl who learned to fight in the dark.

Tomorrow I’d walk into his tower wearing his color.

But I’d be counting every lie. Every weakness. Every crack in his perfect mask.

Valen Crowe wanted a wife and an heir.

He was going to get a war instead.