Chapter 1:The Man In Black
1112 Words
Sloane's POV]
“Where's it daughter, tell me where the hell is it.”
Those were the first words my father said when he burst into my room at 2:17 p.m. soaked to the bone, blood smeared on his cuff, eyes wild with something I had never seen on his face before.
Fear.
I kept looking at my father who was staring back at me with eyes blazing as if he wanted to burn me with a single look. My heart was raising but I try so hard to keep my cool
"“Where is what dad? what are you even talking about? What is wrong with you?”
"The key Sloane. Now!!"
“Where's the god-damned key your mother left you?”
I scrambled out of bed, my mind still foggy with sleep. Dad wasn't the kind of man to panic, but the man standing before me now looked nothing like the father I knew. His hands dug into my shoulders, trembling as he held on, the smell of whiskey clung to his breath as he fought for air.
"Mother has been dead for eighteen years," I said slowly. "What key are you talking about?"
Before he could answer, a low growl of powerful engines echoed outside, sending a faint tremor through the floor beneath my feet.
We both froze.
Seconds later, car doors slammed shut outside. The sound was deliberate and coordinated. Even through the thunder and rain, the noise cut through the night like a blade. My father's face went ghostly white.
"Delvecchio," he whispered.
The name alone sent a chill through me. Even tucked away behind the gates of the Ashford estate, I had heard the whispers that followed the Delvecchio Syndicate.
The stories spoken in hushed voices, always ending the same way… with someone disappearing or turning up dead. It was a blood-soaked empire ruled by a man who didn't make deals. He made demands. And anyone foolish enough to stand in his way rarely lived long enough to regret it.
The door cracked open. Mrs. Hathaway, our elderly housekeeper, stood trembling in the frame, her hair slipping from its pins.
My father shoved me toward her instantly. "Take her to the East wing study. Stay with her. And whatever you hear… don't come out."
"Dad…."
"Go, Sloane!"
Mrs. Hathaway's grip locked around my wrist, dragging me into the dark hallway before I could fight back. My bare feet slapped against the cold marble as she pulled me through the winding corridors, deeper into the uninhabited East wing.
She shoved me through the heavy door and slammed it shut behind us….but she didn't leave. She pressed her back against the door as though trying to protect us from the world that was happening in the courtyard. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven breaths, and her eyes stared blankly ahead, fixed on something only she could see.
Mrs. Hathaway wasn't just our housekeeper to me, she was the mother I never had, she has always been there ever since mom passed away. She didn't have any children, neither did she get married, she had dedicated her life taking care of me and she's been the sweetest.
"Mrs. Hathaway." My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “What's happening?”
“Who is Delvecchio?”
She shook her head, lips pressed into a thin white line.
"Please. You've known me since I was five. Tell me something."
"It's not my place, child." But her hands were trembling against the wood, and her eyes kept flicking toward the window like she was counting seconds.
"Is Dad going to die?"
She finally looked at me…. “You don't know how dangerous these……” Whatever she was about to say died in her throat as the gunshot cut through the storm.
BANG.
We both flinched. A scream tore through the rain outside.
BANG.
Another gunshot followed suit.
Mrs. Hathaway grabbed my hand and we ran for the window together, her grip just as bruising as my father's had been minutes ago.
Below, two of our guards were down in the gravel, blood blooming dark against the wet stone. The rest had already thrown their weapons into the mud, hands raised.
"Oh God," Mrs. Hathaway breathed. "Oh God, oh God."
"That's Dad…." My nails dug into the windowsill as I watched him drop to his knees in front of the man in black.
Mrs. Hathaway's hand flew off mine like she'd been burned. "Stay here. Do not leave this room, do you understand me? No matter what you hear." She was already moving, fumbling the bolt loose.
"Wait….where are you going…"
But the door had already shut behind her, and I was alone.
Through the rain-streaked glass, I saw the stranger crouch down and press his mouth close to my father’s ear, whispering something God knows what. I couldn't hear the words. I only saw what they did, the color draining from my father's face, his mouth falling open in a silent sob.
Then the man in black stood, and lifted his gaze.
Right up to the window where I was standing.
Right to me… as if the glass, the storm, and every inch of distance between us didn’t exist at all.
I stumbled back, my spine hitting the edge of the mahogany desk. When I finally forced myself to look again, the SUVs were already swallowed by the darkness of the highway like they’d never existed.
That's when I heard the phone ring.
The sound made me instantly jolt back a little. My hands scrambled in search of it.
It was an old rotary one, half-buried under a stack of yellowed ledgers on the study desk… one I hadn't even noticed was there, in the wing of the house nobody used.
It rang once.
Twice.
Before my hand hovered over it, shaking. On the third ring, I picked it up.
"H—hello?"
My voice was low, barely audible.
There was a static hiss on the other end. Then a voice came through, low, deep and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.
"You have twenty-four hours to deliver the key, Diavolo."
My mouth went dry. "I….. this isn't…"
He kept talking, like I hadn't spoken at all. "Or the others are gonna find out what really happened in Calabria." There was a pause before he finished his sentence.
"You know what's gonna happen when they do. Twenty- four hours. Clock's ticking Diavolo.”
“Tick-tock.” The voice was slow, deliberate. It came as a warning disguised as a whisper.
The line went dead before I could say another word.
- Writer
