Have one eye open

4| BIG REUNION

Coco Vargas (The Vargas Corporation)

The woman who dropped me off was so unbelievably chatty, I had to create a whole fake story about my life. By the end, she cried—which means I could probably make it as an actor. After wrapping up my impromptu soap opera, I decided to scout the building. No way was I getting in legally. The security here was ridiculous, and you'd need an appointment. Ironic, I know.

So, I had to break in.

It was around 9:30 PM, but I knew my father was still there. He always worked until at least eleven. The SUVs out front confirmed it: the big, bad mafia boss was in his office.

The tower was massive. I knew my family was rich, but this was beyond extravagant. Fifty floors, all Vargas property. A monument to opulence—and overcompensation, maybe.

Initially, I thought about just strolling in and demanding to see Antonio, but why settle for normal when I could make a grand entrance? I slipped inside, sticking to the shadows of the giant pillars to avoid the guards. I didn't want to kill Dad's people—not if I didn't have to. Yes, he had women guards too, which pleasantly surprised me, but if push came to shove, I wouldn't hesitate.

I slipped unnoticed to the staff elevator, far from the main view. Earlier, I'd snagged a janitor's keycard while he was heading out. I'd studied the building plans on my laptop; it was the perfect opportunity.

Swiping the card, I stepped inside. So far, so good—no one had noticed me. There wasn't even a camera in the elevator. Perfect.

I picked the second-highest floor to avoid suspicion. The ride was dull, so I sat and picked at my nails until the doors opened. The floor was quiet, filled with offices and cubicles. I carefully avoided the cameras as I made my way to the stairwell. Step by step, I climbed until I reached the top. Slowly cracking the door open, I peeked out. No one.

Good.

I memorized the floor plan, so I knew exactly where to go. My father's office was near the center. Guards flanked the main elevators and stood by his door. Their positions weren't well coordinated, though—they couldn't see each other. Lucky for me.

I had a tranquilizer gun loaded with syringes. I'd take out the guards one by one, starting with those nearest to me. The first guy was on his phone, completely distracted. Rookie mistake. I slipped behind him, clamped a hand over his mouth, and stuck the needle into his neck. He slumped to the floor. Quietly laying him down, I moved toward the woman guard.

She looked serious, like she'd be fun to fight, but tonight wasn't the night for that. I overpowered her quickly, jabbing the needle into her arm. She struggled—strong, but not strong enough. Seconds later, she was unconscious. Two down, two to go.

I crept to a nearby pillar, where I had a clear view of the remaining guards. They seemed focused. Good—I'd have the element of surprise. I aimed my tranquilizer at the man on the left, clicked off the safety, and fired. The syringe hit his neck. Before his partner could react, I shot the second dart. Both went down with minimal noise.

Hopefully, Antonio hadn't heard anything.

I stepped over the limp bodies, taking my time as I reached the massive double doors. With a deep breath, I turned the handle and pushed them open.

The office was enormous, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York City. And there he was, my father, seated in an absurdly large chair behind a pristine desk. He held a simple Smith & Wesson pistol, his expression unreadable.

Ah, should've expected that.

He raised an eyebrow at me, no doubt confused. I mean, I probably looked like a kid—a petite figure in leggings and a hoodie, not exactly threatening.