The Child at the Wedding Table

The silence in the corridor was heavier than the gunfire still echoing from the floor below.

Arthur’s grip on Elena’s arms loosened, but he didn't let go. He pulled her slightly in front of him, using her white wedding dress as a shield against Vincent’s gun.

"Don't listen to him, Ellie," Arthur said, his voice tight. "He's a murderer."

"I am many things," Vincent said, taking a slow step forward. Blood dripped from his fingertips onto the antique rug. "But I never sold my own family to clear a gambling debt."

Elena stopped breathing. She felt Arthur go rigid behind her.

"What is he talking about?" Elena asked, her voice trembling. She looked at Vincent. "My mother died in a home invasion. It was a robbery."

"It wasn't a robbery," Vincent said, his gun unwavering. "He owed a quarter of a million dollars to the Romano family. They gave him a choice. His life, or the life of his wife. He left the back door unlocked and went to a bar for four hours."

"Liar!" Arthur spat.

"I have the Romano ledgers, Arthur," Vincent said. "I bought them three months ago. When you found out I had them, you tried to blackmail me. You threatened to tell Elena about Camilla if I didn't pay you off and let you back into the city."

Elena’s mind spun, piecing the fragments together. The photograph. Camilla. The date.

"You met with him," Elena said to Vincent. "Three months ago. You knew he was alive. You knew he killed my mother... and you didn't tell me?"

Vincent’s jaw tightened. "If I told you, the Romano family would have known you knew. They would have come for you to tie up loose ends. Marrying you... bringing you into the Moretti family... it was the only way to put my family's protection around you. No one touches a Moretti bride."

He married her to save her.

Before Elena could process the weight of that revelation, a small, terrified voice broke the tension.

"Papa?"

It came from the dark library behind Vincent.

Vincent didn't turn around, but his posture shifted. "Leo. Stay back."

Camilla stepped out of the shadows, her red dress torn at the hem. She was holding the six-year-old boy tightly against her side.

"They're coming up the stairs, Vincent," Camilla said, her voice shaking. "Marco's men. They aren't shooting at the intruders. They're shooting at your guards."

Vincent cursed under his breath. "Marco."

Arthur laughed abruptly, a harsh, grating sound. "You thought you had it all figured out, Vincent? You thought you were the smartest brother? Marco offered me double what you refused to pay. He gets the estate, I get my daughter, and you take the fall for bringing enemies into the house."

Arthur shoved Elena hard toward Vincent.

As Vincent instinctively caught her, throwing his uninjured arm around her waist, Arthur turned and sprinted down the opposite end of the corridor, vanishing into the darkness of the east wing.

Vincent didn't shoot. He couldn't risk the ricochet hitting Elena.

"Are you hurt?" Vincent demanded, his hands frantically checking her face, her arms.

"I'm fine," Elena gasped, staring at his bleeding shoulder. "Vincent, your arm..."

"It's a graze," he lied. He looked past her to Camilla. "Where is Marco?"

"Downstairs," Camilla said. "He told his men to find the boy. Vincent, if Marco gets Leo..."

Elena looked down at the little boy. Leo was clutching a small, crumpled piece of paper in his fist. He looked up at Elena with wide, terrified gray eyes. Vincent's eyes.

"We need to get to the basement," Leo whispered. "The bad men don't know the code."

Elena looked at Vincent. "You told me you didn't have a son."