Chapter 99 Chapter 99
Maxwell
I sat at the head of the table, surrounded by the most powerful mafia men in the country, men whose names never appeared in newspapers but whose decisions shaped entire cities—Don Marco, Don Lorenzo, and Don Vittorio. We were discussing the kidnapping of my girls, and I was on edge.
I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead as Marco's words echoed in my mind. "Cash makes it harder, but we have got connections. We will still track them down."
Lorenzo leaned in, his voice low. "We will put a tracer on the cash, see if it leads us anywhere. And we will review the security footage, see if we can get a lead on the kidnappers."
I nodded, my mind racing. I had to stay focused to get my girls back. Vittorio spoke up, his voice calm. "We'll handle this, Maxwell. You just stay calm and wait for our call."
I nodded, trying to rein in my anger and fear. I knew they were trying to help, but every minute that ticked by was torture. At that moment, my phone buzzed in my pocket, it buzzed several times but i didn’t pick up.
Picking up a call in a room like this was disrespectful and dangerous, so I ignored it.
Marco crushed his cigar into the ashtray. “Your daughters will come home,” he said simply.
I nodded, my phone buzzed again, I stood up and excused myself from the meeting. "Gentlemen, I need a minute," I said, my voice tight with tension.
I stepped outside, pulling my phone from my pocket. I saw the missed calls from Joseph, I dialed his number, he was supposed to pick Amelia at her parents’ place.
As I waited for him to answer, the mafia men stepped outside too, about to leave. They watched me with concerned eyes, Marco nodded at me, his expression serious.
Finally, the call connected, and I heard a groan on the other end. "Joseph?" I asked, my voice urgent.
The sound of sirens blared through the phone, followed by Joseph's strained voice, "Boss…. .we were attacked....they shot her...your wife.” He stammered.
My world stopped. "What?!" I roared, my voice echoing through the night air. "Amelia's been shot?!" The mafia men turned to me, their faces etched with concern. I needed to get to the hospital.
"Joseph, I am on my way," I growled, my phone almost slipping from my grasp. "Which hospital?"
Joseph's voice was weak, but I heard the words, "St. Nicholas..."
I hung up, turning to the mafia men. "Gentlemen, my wife's been shot. I need to go."
Marco's face twisted into a snarl. "We will find who did this. They will pay with blood, and their entire bloodline will suffer." The others nodded, their eyes cold and deadly.
I nodded, already racing to my car. The drive to St. Nicholas Hospital was a blur. I burst through the emergency room doors, my eyes scanning the chaos. Amelia's name was on my lips, but my voice was lost in the noise.
I burst through the emergency room doors, my eyes scanning the chaos. "Amelia Sinclair, where is she?" I demand.
A nurse looks up, "She's in surgery. You can wait in the ICU waiting room."
I stumble towards the waiting room, my mind racing. The minutes tick by like hours. Doctors come and go. I barely register anything until a doctor finally emerges, his face weary.
"Mr Sinclair." he calls out, looking around.
I jump up, "I'm Maxwell. How is she?"
The doctor's face is a blur as he approaches me, his expression a mix of empathy and gravity. I see the words forming on his lips before he speaks them.
"The gunshot wound damaged her spleen and caused significant blood loss. She's slipped into a coma, and we are managing her intracranial pressure."
The words are clinical, detached, but they slice through me like a knife. Coma, the word echoes in my mind, a cold dread that settles in my bones. I try to speak, but my voice is lost. "What...what are her chances?" I manage, the words scraping against my throat.
The doctor's eyes are kind, but his expression is somber. "It's hard to say. We are doing everything we can to stabilize her, we will reassess her condition soon.”
I nodded, the doctor gave me a tight smile. "I am sorry, Mr Sinclair. We will do everything we can."
My heart is racing still trying to process the news about Amelia. My phone rang and it was from an unknown caller, I picked up immediately.
A woman's voice, cold and detached, speaks into my ear, "Hello." Her tone is eerily calm, and my blood runs cold as she continues, "My condolences to you about your wife." The words are like a knife to my heart, and I'm hit with a wave of rage. Did they shoot Amelia just to prove a point? My whole body is burning with anger, but I try to keep my cool. I will make them pay dearly when I get my hands on them.
"We have new demands," she says, pausing for a moment. "We don't want cash anymore, it will be hard to handle all of that cash, don't you think?" She's talking like we're having a casual conversation, like we are discussing the weather or something. "Make a transfer to the account we will send you. Do it now, and your kids will be released."
After Going through the stress of getting eighty million dollars in cash was already a nightmare, and now they don't want it anymore. But I don't care about the money, not right now. I will do whatever it takes to get my girls back.
"I will send it right away," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
The woman's tone is unphased, like she's dealing with a minor annoyance. "The account details will be sent now. You have 30 minutes, and don't play funny, we are watching you. And next time, tell your wife not to involve the police."
The line goes dead, and I'm left staring at my phone, a mix of confusion, dread, and rage swirling in my gut. Was Amelia shot because she reported to the police? I warned her not to get the police involved, must have been the reason she visited her parents.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text – an account number and a bank name. I stare at it, my mind racing.
I quickly dialed Lorenzo's number and sent him the account details the kidnapper had sent. As I waited for Lorenzo to respond, I stepped out of the hospital waiting room to call my accountant.
"Hello, Victor," I said, my voice low and urgent. "I need you to transfer money to an account. It's an emergency."
I read out the details, my eyes scanning the screen as I spoke. "Make it fast, Victor. I don't care what you have to do."
"Right away, sir," Victor said. "I'll confirm once it's done."
I hung up, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. I took a deep br
eath and went back to the waiting room, hoping Lorenzo would have some news soon.