Chapter 4 - The Midnight SummonsThe smartphone sat on my bedside table like a ticking time bomb for three days. I didn't touch it. I didn't charge it. I tried to convince myself that if I ignored it hard enough, the dark, dangerous world of Carter Battalia would simply lose interest and vanish back into the shadows of South Philly.
It was a foolish hope.
On Thursday night at 11:47 PM, the phone screen suddenly lit up the dark bedroom with a brilliant, piercing white light.
BZZZZ.
I jolted awake in my small, single bed, my heart hammering against my ribs as I stared at the screen. A single incoming text message blinked quietly in the center of the display:
Get dressed. My car is outside your apartment.
I threw off the duvet, rushed to the window, and pulled back the cheap floral curtain. Parked directly beneath the flickering streetlamp outside my building was a matte-black armored Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows and no license plates. Two men stood silently near the bumper, blending into the rainy night like statues.
Panic and adrenaline surged through my veins. I wanted to stay in bed. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and pretend I was asleep. But as I stared down at the black SUV, I knew that ignoring Carter Battalia was no longer an option.
Ten minutes later, wearing a heavy wool coat over my pajamas and boots hastily laced onto my feet, I pushed open the front door of my apartment building and stepped out into the misty Philadelphia rain.
One of the men by the Cadillac instantly stepped forward, opening the rear passenger door with smooth, silent efficiency.
"Get in, Miss Sterling. Mr. Battalia is waiting."
I climbed into the cavernous leather interior of the vehicle. The door closed behind me with a heavy, satisfying thud that sealed out the sound of the rain.
The interior was warm, smelling faintly of expensive leather and dark roast coffee. Sitting in the opposite corner of the spacious backseat, illuminated only by the faint amber glow of the city lights passing overhead, was Carter. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket tonight; he wore a simple black turtleneck that accentuated the broad expanse of his shoulders and the sharp, dangerous angles of his jawline.
He didn't speak as the Escalade pulled away smoothly from the curb, merging into the wet, empty lanes of Vine Street.
"You didn't use the phone," Carter finally said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the engine.
"I didn't want to," I answered honestly, keeping my hands tightly clasped in my lap. "I don't belong in your world, Mr. Battalia. I work at an art gallery. I pay my rent on time. I like being invisible."
Carter turned his head slowly, his dark eyes fixing on mine. "You haven't been invisible to me since the moment I saw you standing by that mirror in the Belmont ballroom."
"Why?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly with frustration. "Why me? My sister is the one who wanted your attention. She has the connections, the ambition, the pedigree—"
"Your sister is a mirror reflecting what she thinks people want to see," Carter interrupted sharply, leaning forward. "She's loud, she's performative, and she's exhausting. When I look at Vanessa, I see a transaction waiting to happen."
He reached out, his warm fingers brushing against my chin, tilting my face upward so I had no choice but to look into his eyes.
"When I look at you, Diana, I see someone who survived a lifetime of being sidelined and still refused to let the world turn her bitter," he said softly, his thumb tracing the edge of my jawline. "That's not invisible. That's dangerous."
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"Where are we going?" I whispered, my heart fluttering wildly against my ribs.
"Somewhere quiet," Carter replied, leaning back as the SUV began to exit the city limits, heading toward the dark, winding roads along the Schuylkill River. "Somewhere no one can interrupt us."
