Chapter 7 - The Rosary
Flames erupted in the drawing room, catching the heavy velvet curtains instantly. The fire roared, eating through the antique furniture and crawling up the walls toward the grand staircase.
“The kitchen!” I coughed, pulling my sweater over my mouth. “There’s a service door in the pantry that connects to the old root cellar!”
Marco didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my hand, leading the way as we sprinted through the smoke-filled hallway. His two guards followed closely behind, kicking open the swinging doors to the massive kitchen.
The heat was suffocating. My lungs burned with every breath. I used my nursing training to stay low, staying below the thickest layer of toxic black smoke.
We reached the pantry. I fumbled in the dark, my fingers frantically searching for the hidden latch Vivienne used to hide her expensive wine deliveries.
Click.
The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a dark, narrow stone staircase. We tumbled down into the damp, cool air of the cellar, slamming the door shut against the fire above.
We collapsed onto the dirt floor, coughing violently.
Marco leaned against the stone wall, his face smeared with soot. He reached into his shirt collar and pulled a heavy silver rosary over his head.
He held it out to me.
“Take it,” he rasped.
“Marco, I’m not—”
“It belonged to my grandmother,” he said, pressing the cool silver beads into my palm. “In my family, when we give someone a rosary, it means we pledge our protection. No matter what happens, you are safe now, Claire.”
I looked at his dark, intense eyes. For the first time, I didn’t see a terrifying mafia boss. I saw a man who had risked his life to save mine.
I slipped the rosary over my neck. It felt heavy and warm.
“We need to get out of here,” one of the guards interrupted, shining his flashlight around the cellar. “The fire department will be here soon, but this ceiling won’t hold much longer.”
I pointed to a rusted iron grate at the far end of the cellar. “That leads to the garden drainage ditch. My father installed it.”
We pried the grate open and crawled through the narrow tunnel, emerging into the cool, damp night air just as the first sirens wailed in the distance.
The Ashford estate was a towering inferno, flames licking at the night sky.
As we stood in the tree line catching our breath, my phone rang.
It was Elaine Porter.
“Claire, thank god you answered,” Elaine said, her voice frantic over the line. “I’m at your apartment. Your mother’s door was kicked in. The place is completely trashed.”
My blood ran cold. “Is she okay? Where is she?!”
“She’s safe,” Elaine promised quickly. “She called me when she heard them breaking in. I got her out through the fire escape. But Claire... they tore the walls apart. They were looking for something.”
I looked at Marco.
“The original microfiche deed,” Marco realized. “Vivienne’s father forged the NDA, but he never found the original county land deed your father hid.”
I touched the silver rosary around my neck, a sudden, blinding memory hitting me.
“The drawing,” I whispered.
May you like
“What?” Marco asked.
“When I was seven, my father helped me bury a time capsule in the community garden behind our old apartment,” I said, my heart pounding. “He put a rolled-up piece of microfilm inside a plastic dinosaur egg and told me it was a treasure map.”
