Chapter 172 Double Blow

Chapter 172 Double Blow
Cherry POV

My plan to dig deeper into Eric's sudden push for a split—a move that reeks of guilt or hidden agendas—is already forming when a scream shatters the silence in the late morning. My heart lurches. Not again.

I'm halfway down the hall when Sonya intercepts me, her face grim. "It's Zoe," she says. "She's dead. Shot in her room."

Zoe—Anthony's widow, the woman who's been scheming for Russell's future since her husband's death—gone. My mind races as Sonya fills me in. Eric found her, claims he was there to discuss "family matters." A split, no doubt. But there's no evidence, no witnesses beyond his word. Suspicion clings to him like smoke, and the staff are already whispering. First suspect.

When Eric comes to me, his voice trembles, eyes darting as if expecting a blade at his throat. "Cherry, I swear, I just walked in and saw her like that. I didn't... I wouldn't..." He cuts off, fear pooling in his gaze.

I see it then, the unspoken dread. He thinks I did this. He thinks I'm purging the family, framing him as the next to fall. The idea sends a cold thrill through me, not of guilt, but of power.

He stammers out a plea, something about taking Nina and their son, splitting off from the Salvatore name for good. I tilt my head, my tone deceptively soft. "Not so fast, Eric. Zoe's dead, and you're the one who found her. No evidence clears you yet. We investigate first." His shoulders slump, and he shuffles out, a defeated shadow. I watch him go, my mind already spinning.

Zoe wouldn't have killed herself. I've seen her since Anthony's death—unshaken, always plotting to secure Russell a new bride. This isn't grief turned inward; it's murder. But Eric? I dismiss the thought almost as quickly as it comes. He's terrified of me, desperate to flee with this split nonsense. Why would he hand me a reason to eliminate him now? No, this isn't his doing. So who? Who benefits from sowing chaos in the Salvatore ranks, from turning us against each other?

Faces flash through my mind—Nina, with her sharp smiles and sharper secrets; Russell, hiding behind hospital walls and feigned fragility. What do they gain from this? A power grab? A distraction? The family is already fracturing, splinters of distrust everywhere I look. Someone's fanning the flames, and I need to know who before the fire consumes us all.

I'm lost in these dark threads when Sonya bursts in. "Nicholas and Kyle—they've been taken by federal agents. Suspected of organized crime and money laundering. They're calling it a 'full reckoning.'"

My breath catches. I remember Nicholas this morning, his parting words heavy with warning: "No matter what happens, protect yourself and our child." I didn't press then, but now the weight of it crashes over me. I snap into motion, barking at Sonya, "Get the legal team now. I want every detail of the charges."

I move to the mirror, trading my robe for a sleek black maternity dress, low heels steadying my step. My hands shake as I apply makeup, a mask of control—foundation to cover the fear, crimson lipstick like a war cry. Sonya hovers, worry etched in her frown. "Cherry, you're pregnant. Stay here. Let me handle this."

I meet her gaze in the reflection. "No. Everything's hitting at once—Zoe's death, now this. Someone's orchestrating it. I'm not sitting idle." My voice is steel, even as my heart hammers. I won't be a bystander, not when my husband is at stake.

An hour later, I'm in a conference room, surrounded by over twenty of the sharpest lawyers money can buy. My pregnancy is a quiet ache as I stand, dissecting the federal charges: money laundering, organized crime, tax fraud...

I drill into the evidence, questioning its legality. "Where did they get this? Wiretaps? Informants?" The lead attorney, a grizzled man with a Brooklyn drawl, confirms most of it is flimsy, inadmissible. Some accusations hold water, but they're minor. "Bail money will get them out," he grunts. "A slap on the wrist, if that."

Relief floods me, but it's fleeting. I can handle this life—the shadow of danger, the constant edge. But my daughter? My resolve hardens. I can't live like this forever. "Let's go get them out," I say, gesturing to the team.

---

Nicholas POV

Kyle sits across from me in the interrogation room, his face a mask of irritation, but I'm calm. I've been here too many times before. "It's nothing serious," I tell him. "I sent word to Sonya before they grabbed us. Lawyers are coming." He nods, but the tension in his shoulders doesn't ease.

I don't expect to see Cherry when the door opens. My casual front drops the second her silhouette appears, black dress hugging her frame, eyes fierce despite the swell of her pregnancy. She's here, in the middle of this mess, when she should be safe at home. My chest tightens—part awe, part dread. She's got the lawyers in tow, and within minutes, bail's posted. Kyle and I are free, but her presence gnaws at me. She shouldn't be here.

Once we're out, she pulls me aside, her voice private. "Zoe's dead. Shot in her room. Eric found her, but I don't think it's him. Someone's still targeting us, Nicholas. They want us all gone, every last Salvatore."

I feel the weight of her words, the cold truth in them. Her eyes burn with a mix of fear and determination. "And you got yourself caught. This can't keep happening. Our child can't grow up in a world where her father might not come home."

I clench my jaw, the promise heavy on my tongue. "I'll speed up the transition. We'll go clean, Cherry. No more gray zones." Her gaze doesn't waver, sharp as a blade. "I want Kyle and the others clean too. I don't want to see them dragged in like this someday."

"I'll make it happen." She nods, but exhaustion pulls at her features. She leans into me, her weight a quiet plea, and I stroke her belly gently, a silent apology for the chaos I've dragged her into.

Back at the estate, she's asleep before her head hits the pillow, worn out from the fight. I carry her to bed, tucking her. As I turn, Sophia's figure looms in the doorway, her eyes sharp despite her frailty. "We need to talk," she says.

I follow her to the hall, bracing for the reprimand I know is coming. "You shouldn't let her bear this much, Nicholas," she starts. "You're about to be a father. Every reckless move, every risk—think of the consequences first."

Her words sting, burrowing into the guilt I've tried to bury. Cherry's right all along; this life can't continue. "I'll be more careful."

Sophia's gaze softens, just a fraction. "Good. Now, Zoe's death—dig into it. Someone might be framing Eric, and I'm too old to wade through this mess myself." She turns, leaving me alone with my thoughts.