Their Cruelest Joke Cost Them Everything Chapter 01

Their Cruelest Joke Cost Them Everything Chapter 01 The Price of a Joke
Celeste’s POV: Thirty minutes earlier, my adopted sister Bianca had called me begging for help. She could barely breathe through her sobs. “Celeste… please! The Old Quarter Syndicate cornered me at the abandoned docks on the East Side!” The Old Quarter Syndicate had been feuding with the Valdieri family for years. Tonight also happened to be our annual family banquet, where every senior member was required to appear. Of all nights, they had chosen this one to take Bianca. I snatched up my pistol, gathered five of my men, and raced to the docks without another thought. We had barely stopped outside the derelict warehouse when my father called. “Celeste, send the men back.” I stopped cold. “Father? Bianca is in there. The Syndicate has her!” “I am aware.” His voice remained perfectly flat. “Something urgent has happened at the estate, and it takes priority. Check the warehouse yourself. There is no need for theatrics.” My men exchanged uneasy looks, but an order was an order. They turned the car around and left. I stood there by myself. Panic closed over me. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped my phone when Alessio, my fiance, flashed across the screen. “Listen to me, Celeste,” he said in a soothing voice. “Your emergency tracker is active, so I can follow your location. The second you are in danger, I will bring backup. You are not alone.” That promise gave me just enough nerve to go through with it. I drew a breath and shoved open the warehouse’s rusted steel door. Darkness swallowed the interior. The air stank of used motor oil and damp, decaying crates. I edged along the wall. In the unnatural quiet, even the click of a round entering the chamber sounded loud. Then it happened. “Bang!” The steel door crashed shut behind me. A heartbeat later, the weak emergency lamps overhead died, leaving the building utterly black. “Alessio?” I called through my earpiece. Nothing answered but silence. I woke my phone. The signal icon was empty, and a warning filled the display: Connection lost. [Emergency tracker disabled remotely.] My breath came fast and shallow. Sweat chilled against my back beneath my shirt. A digitally altered voice burst from the ceiling speakers. “Throw down the gun. Get on your knees. Then remove your shoes.” The pistol trembled in my grip. “Where is Bianca?” “Save the questions. If you want her alive, crawl barefoot over the broken concrete. Your sister is waiting at the other end.” For Bianca, I clenched my teeth and dragged myself through the muck like a beaten stray. Icy sludge soaked my knees. Stones and splintered glass tore into my feet until pain pulsed through my entire body. The Syndicate had hated us for years. If those monsters truly had her… “Good. Look into the camera, slap yourself twice, and announce that you are worthless. If we cannot hear you, your sister loses a finger.” “You bastard!” I tried to rise, but the voice cut in. “Disobey, and the next sound you hear will be the shot that kills her.” “Smack! Smack!” The blows cracked through the empty building. My voice shook as I forced out the words, “I am worthless.” “Louder.” “I am worthless!” “Excellent,” the speaker purred. “Keep crawling. Your reward is on the table at the back.” By the time I reached the far wall, mud coated my hair and clothes. My palms and knees had been scraped raw. A phone on a tripod was the only thing on the table. The image on its screen turned my blood to ice. It was a live video call. At the other end, crystal chandeliers glittered above champagne towers in the family ballroom. Bianca, immaculate in an evening gown, leaned into the camera with a glass in hand. She laughed until she doubled over. “Celeste! You should have seen yourself crawling. Wasn’t she hilarious, everyone?” The camera pulled back to reveal the Valdieri family’s inner circle seated along the banquet table. They whispered over their drinks and roared with laughter at the giant projection, as though I were some cheap carnival act. My father watched me with the pleased expression of a man whose pet had performed on command. Beside him, Alessio raised his glass toward the camera. Amusement gleamed in his eyes. Every detail that had felt wrong suddenly locked into place. There had never been an emergency at the estate. Father had invented it to strip away my guards and make the humiliation possible. Alessio had lied about watching my tracker, coaxed me onto their private stage, then switched the device off himself. I had surrendered my dignity and crawled bleeding through filth because I believed Bianca might die. Meanwhile, they had enjoyed steak and champagne in a warm ballroom, treating my terror as free entertainment. “It was a test, Celeste,” Bianca said. She waved sweetly at the camera. “Congratulations. You passed, so you can come home now.”