Chapter 2 - THE ONE-WAY TICKET
The crystal chandeliers above the long dining table seemed to hum in the suffocating silence.
Thirty-six of New York’s most powerful socialites and businessmen sat completely frozen.
Dante Marino didn’t blink. His dark, piercing eyes were locked onto his younger brother, Adrian, who was seated halfway down the table.
Adrian’s wineglass trembled slightly before he set it down on the white linen tablecloth.
“Dante, listen to me,” Adrian said, forcing a chuckle that sounded hollow in the vast room. “Noah is a child. He misunderstood. We were just looking at contingency plans for his education. That’s all.”
I stood behind Noah’s chair, my hands gripping the back of the mahogany wood.
Noah leaned back against my apron, his small body shaking.
“He didn’t misunderstand,” I said.
My own voice shocked me. Housemaids did not speak out of turn, especially not in front of the Don of the Marino family.
Camilla spun around, her red silk gown swishing violently.
“Shut your mouth, Emily!” Camilla shrieked, her composed facade entirely shattered. “Security! Marco, remove this lying maid immediately!”
Marco, a massive man with a scar over his left eyebrow, stood by the double doors. He didn't move a muscle. He looked only at Dante.
Dante slowly walked around the edge of the table. He stopped in front of Camilla.
“Give me your purse, Camilla,” Dante commanded, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of an earthquake.
Camilla clutched her silver designer clutch to her chest, her knuckles turning white.
“Dante, please, you’re embarrassing me in front of our guests.”
“Give me the purse, or Marco will take it from you.”
Camilla’s lower lip quivered. She slowly handed over the small silver bag.
Dante didn’t open it. He handed it to me.
“Empty it on the table, Emily.”
I stepped forward. My hands were shaking, but I unclasped the lock and turned the bag upside down over a clean patch of tablecloth.
Lipstick, a compact mirror, a diamond tennis bracelet, and a thick, folded envelope spilled out.
The envelope bore the logo of an elite travel concierge in Manhattan.
Dante picked it up. He pulled out the thick, glossy pages inside.
“These are our honeymoon itineraries,” Dante said, his brow furrowing as he read. “We were supposed to fly private to our villa in Tuscany.”
He flipped to the second page. Then he stopped.
The color drained from his face.
“Why does this itinerary have three passengers listed?” Dante asked, his eyes slowly rising to meet Adrian’s.
Adrian swallowed hard, loosening his silk tie. “I... I was going to fly out ahead of you to ensure the security details were in place.”
“Is that right?” Dante asked softly.
He threw the papers onto the center of the table.
“Because the itinerary shows a one-way ticket for me to Naples. And two first-class return tickets to Geneva, Switzerland.”
Dante pointed a hard finger at his brother.
“For Camilla, and for you.”
The guests gasped. A murmur of pure shock rippled through the room.
Camilla stepped backward, stumbling in her high heels. “Dante, I can explain—”
“You booked a one-way trip for your husband, and a romantic getaway with his brother for the day after the wedding,” Dante stated, the horrifying reality settling over his features.
He turned to Adrian, his voice vibrating with a lethal edge.
“You requested legal custody of my son, and you booked me on a flight I wasn’t supposed to come back from.”
Adrian suddenly pushed his chair back. The heavy wood scraped violently against the marble floor.
Before Marco could even reach for his holster, Adrian reached beneath his suit jacket.
He pulled out a silver handgun and aimed it directly at Dante’s chest.
Women screamed. The guests scrambled beneath the table, the sound of breaking crystal filling the room.
I didn’t think. I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around Noah and pulling him down to the floor behind his heavy chair, shielding his small body with mine.
“Nobody move!” Adrian yelled, panic sweating through his designer suit. “Marco, hands away from the gun!”
Dante didn’t flinch. He stared down the barrel of his brother’s weapon with absolute disgust.
“You’re going to shoot me in front of thirty witnesses, Adrian?” Dante asked coldly. “You’ll be dead before you reach the front gates.”
“I’m the acting boss if you die!” Adrian screamed, his hands shaking. “The men will follow me! They know you’ve gone soft! You’re trying to take the family business legitimate. You’re ruining us!”
As Adrian stepped backward toward the dining room exit, his foot caught the edge of the heavy Persian rug.
He stumbled.
And when he did, a small object slipped from his trouser pocket and hit the marble floor with a sharp, metallic clink.
It rolled directly to where I was hiding with Noah.
Noah reached out and picked it up.
He stared at the object, his small eyes going wide with immediate recognition.
“Emily,” Noah whispered, holding it up.
It was a heavy, antique silver key with a crest engraved on the bow.
Noah stood up from behind the chair, ignoring the gun his uncle was holding.
“Uncle Adrian,” the little boy said, his voice ringing through the terrifying silence of the room. “Why do you have Mommy’s safe key?”
May you like
Dante’s head snapped toward his son.
The key to the private safe of Dante’s late wife, Elena—a safe that had supposedly burned to ashes in the car crash that took her life three years ago. If Adrian had the key, then Elena’s death was no accident… and the real nightmare was only just beginning.
