Chapter 1 - The Device Beneath My Desk
Valentina shoved another folder into the cardboard box and whispered, “Please let me leave before he gets here.”
Mateo Fontana stepped through the office door and noticed the framed photograph trembling in her hand.
There was a number scratched into the wooden frame.
Mateo stopped looking at Valentina.
This was not an employee quitting.
“You are leaving.”
Mateo stood with his back to the office door.
His charcoal suit was immaculate. His expression was almost calm.
Valentina Esposito would have preferred anger.
She could have defended herself against anger.
She knew how to answer accusations, how to survive shouting, how to lower her eyes at the correct moment and let powerful men believe they had won.
Calm was different.
Mateo’s calm meant he had already noticed too much.
Valentina kept both hands inside the cardboard box so he would not see them trembling.
“I resigned yesterday.”
“No.”
She looked up.
“No?”
“You placed an unsigned resignation letter on my desk at four thirteen this morning.”
“That sounds like resigning.”
“That sounds like running.”
Beyond the wall of glass behind Mateo, the Fontana Athletic Club was already coming alive.
Heavy bags swung.
Gloves struck leather.
Trainers shouted combinations inside the boxing ring.
The gym occupied the entire floor beneath Mateo’s private office suite, but the glass walls made the two worlds feel connected. Fighters trained under bright lights while men in expensive suits made quieter decisions upstairs.
Valentina had spent six years learning which world was more dangerous.
Mateo stepped toward the cardboard box.
A framed photograph rested between two blue accounting binders.
Valentina quickly reached for it.
Mateo reached first.
Her breath caught.
The woman in the photograph had the same dark eyes as Valentina, the same stubborn mouth, and a gentler smile.
“My sister,” Valentina said.
“I know who Sofia is.”
Valentina stared at him.
Mateo turned the wooden frame over.
His thumb found the scratch.
For the first time that morning, his expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But Valentina knew his face better than she wanted to admit.
She had worked across the hall from Mateo Fontana for six years. She knew the small line that appeared between his eyebrows when someone lied to him. She knew the way his jaw tightened when he was worried and pretending not to be. She knew the unsettling stillness that came over him whenever danger entered a room.
Now he went completely still.
“Where did this come from?”
“The photograph?”
“The number.”
Valentina reached for the frame.
“Give it back.”
“Where did seventeen come from?”
“I don’t know.”
The lie lasted less than a second.
Mateo looked at her.
Valentina looked away.
“Valentina.”
“Give me the photograph.”
He did.
That frightened her more than if he had refused.
She slid it into the box.
Mateo glanced at the packed books, the folders, the small ceramic planter, her coffee mug.
“You packed everything.”
“Yes.”
“You emptied the second drawer.”
Her fingers stopped.
He remembered what she kept in the second drawer.
That should not have mattered.
It did.
“Why do you care?”
Mateo’s eyes narrowed.
“Because people who quit leave angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Exactly.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze.
“I’m tired.”
“You’re terrified.”
Valentina laughed once.
It sounded wrong.
Mateo stepped closer.
She smelled his cologne, clean and faintly smoky.
“Tell me who threatened you.”
“No one.”
“Who told you to disappear?”
“No one.”
“Who is seventeen?”
Her face betrayed her.
Mateo saw it.
Before he could speak again, Valentina grabbed the cardboard box.
“I need to go.”
She turned.
Mateo caught the edge of the box.
Not her arm.
Not her wrist.
The box.
“Move,” she whispered.
“No.”
“Mateo.”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Her eyes burned.
“If I tell you, people die.”
Mateo’s expression hardened.
“People are already trying.”
She stared at him.
He looked downward.
Not at her.
At the desk.
Valentina followed his gaze.
A thin black wire was visible beneath the rear edge.
Her blood turned cold.
Mateo moved fast.
“Don’t move.”
He put one arm across Valentina’s waist and guided her behind him.
“Mateo—”
“Quiet.”
He crouched.
Valentina saw his shoulders tighten.
“What is it?”
No answer.
“What did you see?”
Mateo slowly reached beneath the desk.
Then stopped.
The device had been attached to the underside of the wooden surface directly beneath the place where Valentina sat every day.
A compact black housing.
Wires.
A tiny indicator light.
Mateo did not touch it.
He rose slowly.
“We’re leaving the room.”
Valentina’s knees weakened.
“That wasn’t here yesterday.”
“You’re sure?”
“I would have seen it.”
Mateo moved her toward the door.
Then his eyes shifted to the glass of the filing cabinet.
A reflection.
Movement.
Mateo’s hand immediately pressed Valentina behind him.
Someone was underneath the desk.
Not the device.
A man.
Crouched low between the desk panel and the side cabinet.
Black clothing.
Black cap.
A handgun held close beside his knee.
Mateo did not shout.
That made everything worse.
His voice dropped.
“Stay behind me.”
The intruder moved.
Mateo kicked the rolling office chair into the desk opening.
The man recoiled.
A gunshot cracked.
Glass shattered.
Valentina screamed.
Mateo pulled her down behind the filing cabinet.
Training below stopped instantly.
Another shot struck metal.
Mateo reached inside his jacket but did not fire blindly.
“Security!” he shouted.
Heavy footsteps thundered outside.
The intruder crawled toward the far side of the desk.
Valentina suddenly saw the black device again.
The indicator light changed.
Red.
“Mateo.”
He looked.
“Red.”
His face changed.
“Move.”
He dragged her toward the doorway.
The intruder lunged from beneath the desk.
Mateo slammed into him.
The gun skidded across the floor.
Valentina stumbled into the hallway.
Two Fontana security men arrived.
One tackled the intruder.
The other pulled Valentina farther back.
“Sir!”
Mateo looked beneath the desk.
Red light.
Faster now.
“Evacuate the floor.”
His command carried through the hallway.
“Everyone out. Now.”
The gym below erupted into movement.
Coaches pushed fighters toward emergency exits.
Valentina stood frozen.
Mateo seized her hand.
“Come with me.”
“No.”
His head snapped toward her.
“I need my box.”
“What?”
“My photograph.”
“You’re not going back inside.”
“Sofia’s photograph—”
Mateo looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
Then something in her expression made him stop.
“It matters,” she whispered.
The alarm began screaming.
Mateo swore under his breath.
He turned.
“Stay here.”
“Mateo, no.”
He went back into the office.
Valentina’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Three seconds.
Five.
Eight.
Mateo emerged carrying the photograph.
He shoved it into her hands.
“Now run.”
They reached the stairwell as the bomb squad team from Mateo’s private security network rushed past them.
Valentina did not ask why he had a bomb technician close enough to arrive within minutes.
There were some things about the Fontana family everyone in Chicago understood without discussing them.
Mateo was not merely the owner of a prestigious boxing club.
The Fontanas controlled trucking companies, restaurants, construction contracts, and enough unofficial business that police officers lowered their voices when saying the family name.
Valentina had spent six years pretending that part of Mateo’s life did not exist.
She had been the financial controller for his legitimate businesses.
She had never carried a weapon.
Never delivered money.
Never attended the meetings held after midnight.
Mateo had respected that boundary.
Until today.
They reached the underground garage.
Valentina tried to pull away.
“I’m taking my car.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to decide.”
“Someone put an explosive beneath your desk.”
“And that means I should stay beside the biggest target in Chicago?”
Mateo stepped closer.
“You were already a target before I walked into that office.”
Her voice cracked.
“That’s why I was leaving.”
Silence.
There it was.
The confession.
Mateo studied her.
“Who warned you?”
Valentina clutched Sofia’s photograph against her chest.
“I received a message last night.”
“From?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did it say?”
She hesitated.
Mateo waited.
Finally, Valentina whispered, “It said Mateo Fontana dies at ten fifteen. Leave before then or die with him.”
Mateo checked his watch.
9:42.
His eyes returned to hers.
“You believed it.”
“I knew something else.”
“What?”
Valentina looked toward the concrete floor.
Mateo stepped closer.
“What did you know?”
She pulled out her phone.
The message had disappeared, just as the sender promised it would.
But Valentina had taken a photograph of it using Sofia’s old camera.
She opened the image.
Mateo read.
10:15.
Fontana office.
Second device.
Do not warn him.
Seventeen remembers.
Mateo’s face became unreadable.
“Seventeen,” he said.
Valentina nodded.
“What does it mean?”
“My sister used it.”
“For what?”
Valentina tightened her fingers around the photograph.
“Sofia died seventeen months ago.”
Mateo looked at her sharply.
“Car accident.”
“That’s what the police said.”
“You don’t believe them.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Sofia called me the night she died.”
Valentina’s voice became smaller.
“She said she had discovered something inside Fontana Logistics. Something hidden in the books.”
Mateo did not move.
“She worked for my company for eight weeks.”
“I know.”
“What did she discover?”
“She never told me.”
“Who did she tell?”
Valentina looked directly at him.
“You.”
Mateo’s brows drew together.
“I never spoke to your sister privately.”
“She said your name.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“She said, ‘If anything happens to me, Mateo needs to see seventeen.’”
Mateo looked at the scratched picture frame.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
Then the garage lights flickered.
A black SUV pulled beside them.
Mateo’s head of security, Luca Romano, stepped out.
Tall.
Gray at the temples.
A scar near his jaw.
He had worked for Mateo’s father before Mateo inherited control.
“We cleared the gym,” Luca said. “Device team is upstairs.”
Mateo nodded.
“Who was the gunman?”
“Alive.”
“Name?”
“He had no identification.”
“Get one.”
Luca glanced at Valentina.
“She should be moved.”
“I know.”
Luca’s eyes lingered on Sofia’s photograph.
For half a second.
Maybe less.
But Valentina saw it.
Fear.
Luca Romano knew the photograph.
Mateo followed her gaze.
Luca noticed.
His expression immediately flattened.
“What?” Mateo asked.
“Nothing.”
Mateo stepped forward.
“You recognized something.”
“No.”
“The photograph.”
Luca smiled without humor.
“I’ve seen pictures of Sofia Esposito before.”
Valentina’s stomach tightened.
“Where?”
Luca looked at her.
“You worked here for years. Everyone knew your sister died.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Mateo took the frame from Valentina.
He turned it over.
Luca stopped breathing.
Only for a moment.
But Mateo saw it too.
“What is seventeen?” Mateo asked.
Luca’s hand moved toward his jacket.
Mateo’s voice became very quiet.
“Don’t.”
Luca froze.
Then every light in the underground garage went black.
A phone vibrated.
Not Mateo’s.
Not Valentina’s.
Luca’s.
In the darkness, its screen illuminated his face.
Mateo looked down.
One message was visible.
SHE KNOWS ABOUT SEVENTEEN.
Luca raised his eyes.
Then somewhere behind Valentina, a car door slowly opened.
May you like
Someone whispered her name.
And the voice belonged to her dead sister.
