Chapter 2 - THE SILVER POCKET WATCH
The voice from the security speaker echoed off the dining room's vaulted ceiling, freezing the blood in Victoria’s veins.
Her husband, Carlo Romano. The man she had mourned, the man whose empire she had carried on her shoulders for twenty-six years.
"Carlo," Victoria whispered, her hands gripping the edge of the ruined table. "You've been watching this whole time."
"I have watched you build a house of lies, Victoria," the cold, distorted voice replied. "You stole my legacy. You buried an empty box and told the world I was dead, just so you could take the throne. But I know what you did with the boys in that hospital."
Michael stood paralyzed. He looked at the photograph of the two babies on the table. One blue bracelet, one white.
"Grandmother, what is he talking about?" Anthony demanded, his gun still aimed at Michael. "Who is the heir?"
Victoria didn't look at her traitorous grandson. She looked at Sophia, the daughter she had wept over decades ago. Sophia stood rigidly, her eyes locked on Michael.
"I didn't steal the throne for power, Carlo," Victoria said to the camera, her voice suddenly finding its steel. "I took it because you were going to sell this family to the Cartels. I protected our people."
"You protected nothing!" Carlo’s voice roared through the speaker, cracking with static. "Frank! Kill the traitorous grandson. Bring me the true heir."
Frank Delaney raised his weapon. But he didn't aim it at Michael.
He aimed it directly at Anthony.
Anthony’s eyes widened in sheer terror. Caroline screamed, diving behind the bar.
"Wait!" Anthony shouted, dropping his gun. "I made the deal with you! I poisoned her!"
"You poisoned the Queen," Frank said coldly. "But you aren't the King's blood."
Before Frank could pull the trigger, Brother Anthony Romano kicked the heavy oak table upward. Crystal shattered. The heavy silver platter flew across the room, striking Frank in the chest and knocking his shot wide. The bullet shattered the camera on the wall, instantly cutting off Carlo's feed.
"Move!" Brother Anthony yelled, grabbing Victoria's arm.
Michael didn't hesitate. He grabbed the old leather ledger and the photograph from the table, shoving them into his apron, and grabbed Victoria’s other arm. They rushed through the swinging kitchen doors just as Frank’s men opened fire, shredding the dining room walls.
The kitchen was a labyrinth of stainless steel and abandoned prep stations.
"This way," Brother Anthony commanded, leading them toward the loading dock. "I have a car waiting."
Victoria was breathing heavily, her seventy-one-year-old heart pounding against her ribs. She looked at her younger brother. "You knew Carlo was alive. You let me believe I was a widow."
"I was trying to keep you alive," her brother snapped, pushing open the heavy metal exit doors. "Carlo had the police, the judges, and half your security detail in his pocket. If you knew he was alive, he would have killed you twenty years ago."
They spilled out into the freezing, rain-slicked alley. A black sedan was idling near the dumpsters.
Sophia was already sitting in the driver's seat.
Victoria stopped. "You're working with him?" she asked her brother, staring at the daughter who had risen from the grave.
"I'm surviving, Mother," Sophia said through the rolled-down window. "Get in."
Michael opened the rear door for Victoria, then slid in beside her. Brother Anthony took the passenger seat. The tires screamed against the wet asphalt as Sophia floored the accelerator, tearing out of the alley just as Frank and his men burst through the kitchen doors, firing blindly into the night.
As they sped through the dark streets of the city, Michael pulled the ledger from his apron. His hands were shaking.
"My father," Michael said, looking at Victoria. "Daniel Hayes. Why is his handwriting in this book?"
Victoria closed her eyes. The weight of twenty-six years of secrets was crushing her.
"Because Daniel wasn't just my driver," Victoria whispered. "He was the only man I trusted the night Carlo disappeared. He helped me orchestrate the crash. He helped me hide the truth."
Michael stared at her, horrified. "My father killed a man?"
"No," Brother Anthony interrupted from the front seat. He reached into his coat and tossed a heavy, tarnished silver pocket watch into Michael's lap. "Open it."
Michael popped the latch. Inside the silver casing wasn't a clock face, but a tiny, folded piece of hospital stationery.
"Your father didn't kill anyone," Brother Anthony said softly. "He smuggled a baby out of the maternity ward before Carlo could murder him."
Michael unfolded the paper. It was a birth certificate.
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The name on the certificate was Michael Romano.
"You aren't Daniel Hayes's son, Michael," Sophia said, her eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror. "You are Victoria and Carlo's true firstborn son. And Anthony—the boy who just tried to kill our mother—is the child Daniel and his wife adopted to take your place."
