Framed For Murder Loved By The Victims Billionaire Son

Chapter 4: Becca Is In Too Deep, No Way Out

Becca POV

I look at Jason, and it’s like meeting him for the second time. The teacher from North Lawndale is gone, replaced by a man whose shadow seems to swallow the light in the room.

"Have you killed people too?" I ask, my voice low.

Jason doesn't flinch. He offers a small, haunting smile. "Only those who deserved it."

"You didn't answer the question," I snap, the nurse in me revolting against his casual dismissal of life.

Jason's presence fills the space between us. "Why don't you settle in, Becca? I need to call the family together. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done. You are now family, whether you like the label or not. You will be held accountable for your wealth. Be prepared."

"I haven’t accepted," I remind him, my jaw set.

"You don't have a choice," he says, his tone as final as a gavel.

Nicholas Windler clears his throat, adjusting his tie with trembling fingers. "Friends and neighbors, I’m the lawyer here. There are procedures—"

Jason turns his gaze to him. "Nicholas, you do understand we may have an American name, but we are Italian. We deal with family first, the government second. You do your thing. We do ours."

"Boogey—sorry, Jason," Nicholas stammers, "until this matter is settled in probate, I’m the court’s representative. I’ll be sticking my head up your ass until every 'i' is dotted. It’s best you listen to me."

Jason shrugs. "If you’re afraid of Silas, don’t be. He will do nothing."

"If you weren't here, I’d be dead by now," I interject, my voice rising. "And Nicholas would be right there next to me. That’s why I should leave. I don't want this inheritance. It doesn't belong to me, and I won't have my life depend on your protection."

Jason looks at me, his eyes softening just a fraction, but the steel underneath remains.

He says, "You keep telling yourself that. But deep down, you know it’s not true. The earlier you begin to adjust, the better for us all."

"You can't make me accept!" I shout, my frustration boiling over. "And when I leave here, I don't want to see you anymore! We’re done, Jason. Whatever we had . . . it died with your father."

I storm out of the room, my heart shaking. I hear Nicholas call my name—

"Ms. Rebecca, please!"

—but I don't stop.

"Let her be," I hear Jason say behind me. "Let her go."

I burst out of the heavy front doors and hit the street. The five-thousand-dollar black coupe old man John gave me is sitting at the curb, its glossy finish mocking me. I give it one look and shake my head.

"No way," I mutter. "Not anymore."

I hail a passing cab, sliding into the back seat and giving the driver my address.

My house is a modest, a two-story structure in a neighborhood that has seen better days. My family used to have money, lots of money, but after my father lost his turf to the Berlingeris, he fell into a deep depression. Now, he spends his days at a dusty auto parts shop down the street, a ghost of the man he used to be.

The moment I step through the front door, I see Ralph, my older brother, leaning against the kitchen island, a jagged grin splitting his face.

"So," Ralph says, "we’re rich?"

I drop my bag on the couch, walking past him without a word. I go straight to the stove, my hands trembling as I pour myself a cup of tea. I take a sip, looking at him over the rim.

"The news is already out, Becca," Ralph says, his grin widening. "You got it all. That old criminal left you every cent of his loot."

"I rejected it," I say flatly.

Ralph’s grin vanishes instantly. "You didn't."

"I did."

"You can't," he says, stepping closer.

"I can," I retort. "I already told them."

"No, Becca, you don't understand," Ralph says, his voice taking on a frantic note. "I’ve been doing some reading. I even asked Jamie—"

"Argh, Jamie has a diploma in law, Ralph. He doesn't know anything about this."

"Except where the will is contested in court and the opponent wins," Ralph continues, ignoring me, "the loot—"

"Inheritance," I correct.

"Yeah, the inheritance . . . it belongs to you. Everything. You can't just let go of that kind of power. Not in this city."

I set my cup down on the counter with a sharp clack. "I can do whatever I want. I told Jason—"

"Who?" Ralph asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Jason McDermott."

Ralph freezes. "The Boogeyman is back?"

I stop, looking at my brother, chilled by that name. "You know Jason as the Boogeyman? How am I the only person in this entire city who didn't know?"

Ralph stares at me, his eyes searching mine. "What do you know him as?"

I turn away, my heart slowing to a painful, heavy throb. I think of the man who brought me coffee, the man who told me about his "students," the man I loved. I sigh, a long, broken sound.

"Oh my god," Ralph whispers. "You’re in love with him? What the hell is going on, Becca? You knew him before today?"

"I didn't know he was a McDermott," I say, my voice cracking. "We met at a pharmacy in North Lawndale. He told me he was a teacher. He said his name was Jason Campbell. A teacher, Ralph! A damned teacher, not the son of the most dangerous kingpin in America."

Ralph lets out a short, harsh laugh. "No, no. Old John wasn't the most dangerous kingpin in America."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why do you think Jason is called the Boogeyman?" Ralph asks, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "Whatever you think John McDermott was worth, multiply that by six. That’s your boyfriend’s wealth. And he’s a mean bastard, Becca. He allegedly cleaned out the Facchini family in a single night. The Boogeyman name stuck right around the time that John Wick movie came out. Jason isn't bad news, he’s an apocalypse."

I feel a cold shiver run down my spine, but beneath it, there’s an odd, terrifying pull back toward Jason. He was so gentle with me. Surely Ralph is exaggerating, using the urban legends and embellishments people use to turn men into monsters.

"Well, I called it off," I say firmly. "I broke up with him. It’s over."

Ralph runs his fingers through his thick black hair, pacing the kitchen floor. "Becca . . . they’ll kill us all."

I freeze. "What?"

"The McDermott family will declare war on us," Ralph says, his eyes wide. "Silas and Tony won't let this go, and if you leave Jason, you lose the only shield we have. There’ll be blood, Becca. Plenty of it."

I stare at him, my mind racing. "I’ll leave the city. I’ll go tonight."

Ralph shakes his head. "I just started getting back into the business, Becca. Look at Dad, he can't do much. I can protect myself, maybe take out a few of their men, but you? You can't hide from people like them. They’ll find you. We’ll be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives. They’re already accusing you of murder. Running just makes you look guilty."

I exhale slowly, my head spinning. I open my mouth to argue, to tell him we can find another way, but a loud knock thuds against the front door.

I jump, my eyes going wide.

"Stand back," Ralph whispers. He reaches into his waistband and pulls out a heavy semi-automatic. "Jamie? Norman?" he calls out toward the hallway.

The knock comes again, harder and more authoritative.

Ralph creeps toward the door and puts an eye to the peephole. He stiffens, his entire body going rigid. He steps back slowly, looking at me with a face as pale as a ghost's.

"It's him," Ralph says, his voice a terrified rasp. "It's Jason McDermott.”