Chapter 13 - Echoes of the Past
Back at the Costa estate, the morning sun broke through the heavy ocean mist, casting a brilliant, golden glow over the manicured lawns and marble courtyards. Tessa stood by the large bay window in Room 104, watching Beatrice peacefully sip a cup of warm chamomile tea. The old woman's health had stabilized significantly over the past few days, largely due to the consistent, gentle care and emotional warmth Tessa provided. For the first time in months, Beatrice recognized her surroundings, looking up at Tessa with a clear, lucid sparkle in her cloudy eyes.
"You look tired, child," Beatrice whispered hoarsely, reaching out to pat Tessa's hand with trembling fingers. "My son... he's been spending a lot of time in this room lately. He looks at you the way his father used to look at me before the world turned cold and violent."
Tessa felt a warm blush creep up her neck. "Mr. Costa is just... ensuring the East Wing is secure after the break-in, Mrs. Costa," she stammered lightly, though she knew the excuse sounded hollow even to her own ears. The midnight confession in the hallway still echoed in her mind, a sweet, dangerous melody she couldn't shake.
Before Tessa could reply, her corporate smartphone buzzed sharply against her apron pocket. She pulled it out, expecting a logistical message from Paul regarding medical supply deliveries. Instead, the screen displayed an unknown incoming text message containing a single, high-resolution photograph. Tessa’s breath caught in her throat, and all the blood drained rapidly from her face.
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The photo showed an older, heavy-set man tied securely to a wooden chair inside a dark, grimy warehouse, a brutal bruise swelling across his left cheek. It was Arthur Miller—her uncle and her only living blood relative, a stubborn, troubled man who had tried to raise her after her parents passed away, even if his gambling addiction had driven them apart. Below the photograph was a text: If you ever want to see your uncle draw another breath, walk out of the Costa estate gates tonight at midnight. Come alone, or we ship him back to you in pieces. No Damian. No guards.
Tessa’s hands shook so violently she nearly dropped the phone onto the hardwood floor. The golden cage of the Costa estate suddenly felt less like a sanctuary and more like a trap. If she went to Damian, his security detail would lock down the entire property and hunt down her uncle's captors with extreme, lethal force—sparking an all-out syndicate war that could destroy everyone in its path. But if she stayed, her uncle would pay for her newfound safety with his life. She had to handle this alone.
