Chapter 5
The shattering glass exploded across Valeria’s lap, glittering like diamonds in the dim interior light of the car. Before she could scream, a heavy hand clamped firmly over her mouth, suffocating the sound in her throat. Julian didn't fight back; he simply raised his hands off the steering wheel and surrendered with chilling resignation. Valeria thrashed wildly, her nails scraping against the coarse fabric of the intruder's jacket, but the grip was ironclad.
"Stop fighting, Valeria," a familiar, raspy voice commanded from the shadows of the back seat.
Valeria’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief as she recognized the voice. The hand lifted from her mouth just enough for her to gasp for air, and she twisted her body around to look into the rear of the sedan. Sitting comfortably in the darkness, draped in the same beige blazer and green top, was her mother.
"Mom?" Valeria choked out, her voice trembling violently. "What is the meaning of this? Who are these people?"
Her mother didn't blink. She reached out, delicately picking up the cream handbag from Valeria’s lap and placing it neatly beside her on the seat. The older woman's expression was devoid of any maternal warmth; it was the face of a cold, calculating strategist who had been playing a long game for decades.
"You always were entirely too impulsive, Valeria," her mother said smoothly, smoothing down her blazer. "Just like your father. You walk into a room, you make a scene, and you assume the entire world revolves around your momentary heartbreak. You had no idea what kind of firestorm you were walking into tonight."
Julian turned around in the driver's seat, his face scratched slightly by the broken glass. "We’ve been compromised, Mrs. Vance. The associates of your late husband’s business partners are tracking this phone." He pointed to the strange device still resting on the center console.
Mrs. Vance nodded slowly. "I know. That is precisely why we are here." She leaned forward, resting her manicured hands on the back of the passenger seat, staring directly into Valeria’s tear-stained eyes. "Your father didn't die of a heart attack, Valeria. He was murdered because he tried to walk away from the syndicate. And the man in the blue suit tonight—Arthur—was his closest partner who helped me bury the truth to keep you safe."
Valeria stared at her mother, feeling as though the ground beneath her had completely dissolved. Every memory of her childhood, every belief she held about her family, fractured into dust.
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"If that’s true," Valeria whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the SUV’s idling engine in front of them, "then why did you hand me over to them?"
Before Mrs. Vance could answer, the door of their car was yanked open from the outside, and a towering man with a jagged scar across his cheek grabbed Valeria by the arm, dragging her out into the cold night air.
