Chapter 4 - THE COAT IN THE CLOSET
“He’s raising him.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Dominic stared at the completed photograph, the image of his father’s killer smiling warmly beside the young boy who shared the Romano blood.
Victoria backed away until she hit the edge of the dining table. “Dominic, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Don’t speak,” Dominic warned, without raising his voice. He looked at Charles Whitmore. “You knew this? You knew Rossi was raising my father’s son?”
The old attorney wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Eleanor orchestrated it, Dominic. Your mother.”
The reversal hit Dominic so hard he took a physical step backward. “My mother gave my brother to the man who murdered my father? That makes no sense, Charles. Tell me the truth!”
“It is the truth!” Charles pleaded. “Rossi didn’t kill your father. Your father was a ruthless man, Dominic. He was planning a purge. He was going to eliminate his own capos, including Rossi, to consolidate power. Rossi struck first in self-defense, but he never wanted a war with Eleanor. When your father died, Eleanor made a secret pact with Rossi to stop the bloodshed.”
Answer one: Eleanor gave the child to Rossi to maintain peace. Open two: Why is Victoria claiming Rossi kidnapped the boy, and where is the ransom money actually going?
“Then why the ransom?” Dominic asked, turning his terrifying gaze back to his fiancée. “If Rossi has been raising the boy peacefully for twelve years, why did you and Charles need three million dollars in untraceable assets today?”
Victoria swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward Aunt Frances, but Frances refused to look at her.
“Because Rossi is dying,” Victoria finally admitted, her voice trembling. “He has terminal cancer. The peace treaty dies with him. When his lieutenants find out he’s been raising a Romano, they’ll kill the boy. The money wasn't a ransom. It was a relocation fund to smuggle the child out of the country before Rossi’s men turn on him.”
It was a brilliant, desperate motive. Victoria wasn't stealing just out of greed; she was trying to execute a secret extraction. But the way she had treated Marion—stripping a seventy-eight-year-old woman of her dignity to do it—was unforgivable.
“You should have told me,” Dominic said, his voice cold.
“If I told you,” Victoria shot back, tears of frustration in her eyes, “you would have sent your men in guns blazing to take the boy by force. You would have started a war that would burn this city to the ground. I was trying to save your brother and your empire quietly!”
Dominic stood perfectly still. For a moment, the mafia boss seemed entirely lost.
“Where is he?” Dominic asked. “Where is my brother right now?”
Victoria shook her head. “I don’t know. Rossi was supposed to send a courier with the location tonight, after the auction funds cleared.”
“You’re lying,” Marion said.
Once again, the elderly housekeeper stepped forward. She still held the velvet pouch with the sapphire brooch.
“Mrs. Fletcher, please,” Charles said gently. “This doesn't concern you anymore.”
“It concerns me when someone calls me a thief in the home I helped build,” Marion said with quiet dignity. She looked at Dominic. “Mr. Dominic. Last night, I couldn't sleep. I came downstairs to get some tea. I saw Miss Victoria in the foyer.”
Victoria’s eyes widened in sheer panic. “Marion, shut up!”
“She was meeting a man at the door,” Marion continued smoothly. “A man in a heavy wool coat. He handed her a train ticket. I saw the distinctive orange envelope of the Pacific Express line.”
Dominic turned slowly toward Victoria. “You already have the location.”
Victoria bolted.
She shoved past Charles and sprinted toward the hallway, her red heels slipping on the marble floor.
“Claire!” Dominic shouted.
I didn't think. I moved. I stepped into the doorway, blocking Victoria’s path. She slammed into me, her nails digging into my shoulder, but I had spent six years hauling heavy laundry baskets and scrubbing floors. She couldn't move me.
Dominic caught up in seconds, grabbing Victoria by the arm and spinning her around.
“Where is the ticket?” he demanded.
“In my coat,” she sobbed, finally breaking down. “In the hall closet.”
I walked to the closet and retrieved Victoria’s cashmere coat. I dug into the pocket and pulled out the bright orange envelope. I handed it to Dominic.
He ripped it open. Inside was a single, one-way ticket for a sleeper car on the midnight train to Vancouver. The departure time was 11:30 PM.
Dominic checked his heavy steel wristwatch. It was 10:45 PM.
“Charles,” Dominic ordered. “Get the cars ready. We’re going to the station.”
“Dominic, wait,” Frances suddenly spoke up, her voice sharp. “You can’t go to that train station. Rossi’s men will be watching. If they see you, they’ll know Rossi made a deal, and they’ll kill the boy on the platform.”
She was right. The stakes had just skyrocketed. Dominic couldn't use his muscle. He couldn't be seen.
Dominic looked around the room, desperate. His eyes landed on me.
“Claire,” Dominic said, stepping toward me. “You’re the only one they won’t recognize. You have to go to the station. You have to get on that train and find my brother.”
I stared at him, terrified. “Me? Sir, I’m a housemaid.”
“You’re the only one I trust right now,” Dominic said, handing me the train ticket.
Before I could process what was happening, Marion reached out and gently took my hand. She pressed the velvet pouch containing the sapphire brooch into my palm.
“Take this,” Marion whispered.
I looked down at the pouch. “Why?”
May you like
Marion looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and delivered the cliffhanger that changed everything.
“Because Eleanor didn’t just give me this brooch as a thank-you,” Marion said. “She gave it to me because the child… the boy you’re going to rescue… he’s my grandson.”
