Chapter 154: Whatever It Takes

Special skills required a special number.

Victoria scrolled through her contacts until she found one she hadn’t used in quite some time.

Her former massage therapist.

She called.

"Hello. It’s me."

"I’m busy. Call me later."

"You may want to take this call. It could be considerably more profitable than a month’s work."

There was a pause.

"Hold on."

On the other end, the therapist quietly stepped out of the room, leaving his client snoring peacefully on the massage table.

"All right. You have my attention. What do you want?"

"I need a muscle man."

Another pause.

"For?"

"To scare someone."

"And what made you think I know people who do that?"

Victoria smiled.

"A little birdie once told me you helped make a few unpleasant problems disappear."

"That little birdie talks too much."

"Apparently."

"How much?"

"For you?"

"For giving you the number."

"Your usual finder’s fee. Send me your account details."

A message arrived less than a minute later.

Victoria transferred the money.

She didn’t particularly care how her former massage therapist had acquired such interesting acquaintances. People had lives outside their professions. Some played golf—some collected stamps.

Apparently, others knew men who frightened people for money.

Her phone chimed again.

This time, it was a number.

Ask for Freddy.

Victoria immediately called.

Someone answered on the third ring.

"Yeah?"

"Freddy?"

"Who’s asking?"

"A mutual acquaintance gave me your number."

Silence.

Then, "What do you need?"

Victoria settled more comfortably into her chair.

"I need someone persuaded to keep his mouth shut."

"For how long?"

"Indefinitely."

"That sounds permanent."

"The silence, yes. The man, no."

Freddy gave a low chuckle.

Victoria didn’t.

"He made an agreement with me many years ago," she continued. "He completed the job. I paid him in full. Now he’s decided that our old arrangement entitles him to additional compensation."

"Blackmail."

"Greed."

"Same difference."

Perhaps.

Victoria didn’t particularly care what Freddy called it.

"I want him reminded that our business ended years ago. He doesn’t contact me. He doesn’t come to my home. He doesn’t speak about what happened. Most importantly, he never asks me for money again."

"Name?"

"Domingo Ortega. Early fifties. I don’t have a recent photograph, but I have his number."

"Address?"

"You’ll have to find that yourself."

"That costs extra."

"Fine."

Freddy was silent for a moment.

"How frightened do you want him?"

"Enough that he understands there won’t be a next time."

"Do I break anything?"

Victoria’s fingers stopped against the armrest.

There it was.

A remarkably simple question.

Years ago, she would’ve been horrified to hear someone ask it so casually.

Then again, years ago she’d also been a different person.

She told herself, just enough to create an opportunity.

Finally, Victoria answered.

"Hopefully, that won’t be necessary."

"And if it is?"

"You can be creative."

Freddy waited.

Victoria knew exactly what he was waiting for.

"But don’t send him to an early grave."

"Understood."

A moment later, another message arrived containing an account number and a fee.

Victoria looked at the amount.

It wasn’t cheap.

Neither was silence.

"I’ll send half now. The balance comes after the job is finished."

"What do you want as proof?"

"That he understands."

"That’s vague."

"You’re the professional. Surprise me."

Victoria transferred half the payment. She waited for confirmation of a successful transfer, and then took a picture as a reference.

Freddy didn’t end the call immediately.

Instead, he asked, "Are you sure about this?"

Victoria raised an eyebrow.

"You’re developing a conscience rather late in the conversation."

"Not a conscience. Just making sure you understand what you’re asking for."

"I understand perfectly."

"Once this call ends, I start working. You don’t get to pretend afterward that you didn’t know what you were paying for."

Victoria’s expression slowly hardened.

That sounded suspiciously like an opportunity to reconsider.

She didn’t need one.

Domingo had come to her home.

He’d demanded more money.

He’d threatened to dig up something that should’ve remained buried six feet below the ground.

And if that secret ever reached Dominic, Victoria knew exactly what she stood to lose.

Her son had already lost a childhood friend and lover.

Conrad had remarried and built another family.

Dominic was all Victoria had left.

Maybe that was selfish.

Maybe a better mother would’ve confessed years ago and accepted whatever judgment her son gave her. And a better ex-wife would let go of Conrad after receiving a handsome settlement.

Victoria had never claimed to be a better mother.

She was Dominic’s mother.

There was a difference.

Everything she’d done had been for his future.

One terrible decision had required another, then another, until Victoria could no longer remember exactly when protecting Dominic’s future became indistinguishable from protecting herself.

It hardly mattered now.

The marriage she’d worked so hard to secure had fallen apart anyway.

Alexander had moved on.

Dominic had moved on.

Everything Victoria had done had been for nothing.

Except the consequences.

Those remained.

"Mrs. Sebastian?"

Freddy was still waiting.

Victoria looked at Dominic’s photograph on the table beside her.

Her beautiful boy.

If Dominic ever learned what his mother was capable of doing for him. Would he appreciate it, or would he see the truth?

Victoria couldn’t allow that.

Not after losing everything else.

"Keep him alive," she said.

"And the rest?"

Victoria didn’t hesitate this time.

"Whatever it takes."

A beat of silence passed.

"All right."

The call ended.

Victoria slowly lowered the phone.

There.

Another problem delegated to someone better equipped to handle it.

She should’ve felt uneasy.

Perhaps she did.

But fear was remarkably useful when properly directed, and Domingo had already shown that money couldn’t guarantee his silence.

Maybe fear would succeed where money had failed.

Victoria picked up her tea.

It had gone cold.

She took a sip anyway.

After everything she’d already done, hiring someone to frighten Domingo should’ve felt like crossing another line.

Instead, Victoria wondered how many lines she’d crossed so long ago that she could no longer see them behind her.

Her gaze returned to Dominic’s photograph.

Only one line left mattered.

Dominic could never know.

Whatever it took.