No Sloppy Seconds Chapter 07
“Seize my parents’ estate?” I gripped my phone, my eyes turning to ice. “Silas, who the fuck do you think you are?
I hung up in his face and powered off my phone.
The world went dead quiet.
I tossed the phone onto the desk and picked up the heavy Blood Oath Medal again.
The sharp metal edges dug into my palm, bringing a dull sting. That pain washed away every last bit of my seven- year foolishness.
“Cleo, sleep easy tonight,” Mom said, running her hand through my hair, her voice dripping with unconditional love. “If the sky falls, your father and I will hold it up.”
“No, Mom.” I raised my head, a bloodthirsty smirk curling up my lips. “This time, I’m handling it myself.”
Back in my bedroom, everything felt familiar yet strange. The sheets were still as clean and crisp as the day I left seven years ago.
I blinked back the heat in my eyes, took a quick hot shower, and tucked the three armory keycards against my skin.
I slept like a baby that night.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I sat at my desk and pressed the power button on my phone.
The second the screen lit up, notifications exploded like a warzone!
Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!
Dozens of missed call alerts flooded out, barely a minute apart from each other.
Messages piled up past 99+.
I scrolled down the timeline.
It started at 9:30 PM last night with his usual high-and-mighty demands:
[Cleo, where the hell are you?! Get your ass back to the hall in ten minutes! Don’t make me lose my temper in public!]
[Cleo, stop throwing this stupid tantrum. Get to the bunker in thirty minutes. The wedding goes on.)
By 10:30 PM, cracks started showing in his arrogance:
[What the fuck do you mean by leaving the ring?! Cleo, do you actually dare walk away?!]
[Talk to me! Answer the damn phone! Are you insane?!]
By 1:00 AM, the lockdown at the bunker failed, and his panic spilled all over the screen:
[Where are you? I had every airport in California searched. Why is there no record of you?]
[Cleo, I’m sorry. My tone was bad. Just answer the phone, okay? I’m begging you.)
My thumb stopped scrolling.
The last one was a forty-minute voicemail.
Sent at 4:30 AM.
I tapped play.
The voice coming through the speaker wasn’t the arrogant Syndicate Godfather. It was a man gasping for air, his voice raspy, sobbing like a beaten dog:
“Cleo… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you take the prison transport. I shouldn’t have given the crown to Gia fucked up…”
“Don’t leave me… Please come out, okay? I’m begging you…”
“Wait for me. I’m bringing my men to the Moretti estate right now. I’ll get on my knees in front of you…”
His throat was raw, choked with terrifying desperation. It was like all his pride and dignity had been smashed to dust overnight.
Back then, hearing him beg like this would have melted my heart in a second.
Now, listening to his late apology, I didn’t feel a single damn thing.
Late love is cheaper than dirt.
I opened the text box and typed out a single line without emotion:
[Save it. We either declare peace, or we go to war.]
Without a second thought, I went into settings and blocked Silas Valenti’s number permanently.
Peace and quiet returned.
I closed the phone and flipped open my encrypted laptop.
I clicked on a black skull icon, connecting straight to the top tier of the Dark Web.
A chat box popped up instantly.
The person on the other end was Vivian-the Dark Web Godfather who controlled the intelligence networks of all five major mafia families in North America.She was also an old contact from my time in Europe.
[Vivian: My god, Cleo! You’re finally online! I thought you were actually going to spend the rest of your life playing the meek little woman behind that scumbag Silas.)
[Cleo: I woke up. I need your help.]
[Vivian: Name it. If you hadn’t intercepted those heavy weapons for me back then, I’d be six feet under by now. Spill it-how are we destroying him?]
I pulled an encrypted flash drive out of my drawer and plugged it into the laptop.
Seven years of laundering records, full control over all internal armory deals, and the biometric keys to the Syndicate’s five vital lifelines-everything was in here.
Silas thought he was untouchable. He thought I was nothing without him.
He had no idea that for seven whole years, it was my power and brain keeping his entire empire afloat.
[Cleo: Package the data I just sent you. Upload every single file to the Dark Web’s main auction house in thirty minutes.]
[Vivian: Holy shit! You’re tearing down the Syndicate’s foundation! Silas is going to go fucking feral when he finds out!]
I stared at the transfer percentage bar on the screen, iny eyes cold as ice.
“Whether he goes mad or not is none of my business.”
The second the notification popped up confirming the upload was successful, a sharp knock rattled my door.
The old butler walked in, his face heavy as lead. He bowed respectfully:
“Miss, thirty or forty black armored Lincolns just pulled up outside. They blocked the entire main road. Mr. Valenti is at the iron gate himself… He bypassed all visiting protocols and demands to see you.”
The butler paused, dropping his voice: “He looks… completely unhinged, ma’am. He won’t stop screaming your name.”
