Chapter 2 - The Hotel Standoff

The gold clip caught the dim light of the hotel lamps.

Brielle’s face drained of all color. "Marcus, you idiot," she hissed under her breath.

Nico stared at the money clip on the table.

He didn't yell. He didn't explode. The stillness that overtook him was so absolute, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"My private safe," Nico said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.

"She brought it to me yesterday," Marcus smiled, puffing his chest out slightly. "Along with a generous cash retainer to file the petition. She wants the kid out of the house, Nico. She told me you were too weak to send her away to boarding school."

Brielle grabbed Nico’s arm again, her acrylic nails digging into his suit jacket. "Nico, he’s lying! He broke into the house! He must have!"

Nico slowly reached up and removed her hand from his arm. He didn't just brush it away; he peeled her fingers back with a slow, deliberate force that made her wince.

"You went into my safe," Nico said.

"He’s blackmailing me!" Brielle cried, tears instantly springing to her perfectly manicured eyes. "He contacted me last month! He said he was going to go to the tabloids and tell them you kidnapped his child! I was trying to protect you! I gave him the money to make him go away!"

"By helping him take my daughter?" Nico asked.

"I was trying to protect our future!" Brielle screamed, the facade finally cracking. "You let the ghost of that dead woman run our house! You let that brat dictate when we eat, where we go, and what we do! I just wanted a clean slate for us!"

"Daddy?"

The small, trembling voice came from the bedroom doorway.

I looked up. Ruby was standing there in her pajamas, clutching her grandmother’s hand. Her small face was pale, her eyes wide with terror as she looked at Marcus.

Marcus took a step toward her. "Hey there, Ruby. I'm your—"

Nico moved faster than I thought a human being could.

In a fraction of a second, he crossed the space between them. He didn't punch Marcus. He simply grabbed the front of his gray suit, twisted the fabric tight against Marcus’s throat, and slammed him backward into the wall.

The heavy thud shook the framed artwork.

Marcus gasped, his hands clawing at Nico’s iron grip.

"Don't you ever speak to her," Nico whispered, his face inches from Marcus’s. "Don't you look at her. Don't you breathe the air in her direction. If you come within a hundred yards of my daughter again, you won't need a lawyer. You'll need a priest. Do you understand me?"

Marcus gagged, his face turning red. He nodded frantically.

Nico released him in disgust. Marcus slumped against the wall, coughing violently.

Nico didn't look at him again. He turned toward the bedroom doorway and dropped to one knee.

"Ruby. Come here."

Ruby let go of her grandmother's hand and sprinted across the room. She threw her arms around Nico’s neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Nico wrapped his arms around her tightly, closing his eyes as he buried his face in her hair.

"I've got you, sweetheart," he murmured. "Nobody is taking you anywhere."

Brielle watched them, her chest heaving. "You're choosing her over me?" she demanded. "Over your own fiancée? You're humiliating me in front of the help?"

Nico stood up, lifting Ruby into his arms. He looked at Brielle with a cold, terrifying emptiness.

"Pack your things tonight, Brielle," Nico said. "If you are still in my house by sunrise, I will have my security physically throw you onto the street."

Brielle's mouth opened, but no words came out. She turned and practically ran out of the hotel room, her heels clicking frantically down the hall.

Marcus scrambled to his feet, grabbing the legal envelope. He looked at Nico, terrified, and bolted out the door after her.

The room fell silent, save for Ruby’s soft crying.

I stepped forward, my arm throbbing painfully, and opened the blue canvas bag. I pulled out the worn, faded quilt.

"Look what I brought, Ruby," I said softly.

Ruby lifted her head from Nico's shoulder. Her eyes lit up when she saw the blanket her mother had made. She reached out with one small hand and grabbed the edge of it, pulling it against her cheek.

"Thank you, Hannah," she whispered.

Nico looked at me, a profound gratitude softening the hard lines of his face.

I smiled at Ruby and adjusted the quilt over her small shoulders. As I tucked the heavy fabric around her, my fingers brushed against something strange.

Down in the bottom corner of the quilt, near a patch of yellow fabric, the seam felt unusually thick.

I pinched the fabric. It wasn't just batting. There was a small, hard, rectangular object sewn directly inside the quilt.