Chapter 3 - The Emerald Necklace
Hannah backed away until she hit the peeling wallpaper of her living room.
“I didn’t know,” she stammered, staring at the hospital bracelet in my hand. “Grant, I swear on my life, I didn’t know Celeste’s name was on that.”
“Three years ago, Hannah. A year after Julian died. Two years before you started working in my house.” I stepped closer. The cold of the room was nothing compared to the ice in my veins. “Explain it.”
“Three years ago, Lily had severe pneumonia,” Hannah said frantically. “I couldn’t afford the hospital bill. A woman paid it for me anonymously through a charity foundation. The social worker handled the paperwork. I never met the donor!”
I looked down at the bracelet. Celeste hadn’t just discovered Hannah at my estate. Celeste had been tracking Julian’s child long before she ever walked into my life, long before she slipped my diamond ring onto her finger.
The reversal hit me like a physical blow. Celeste hadn’t accidentally stumbled upon a secret heir. She had infiltrated my life because of her.
“Get the child,” I ordered. “We are leaving. Now.”
Within twenty minutes, I had Hannah and Lily in the back of my armored SUV. I didn’t take them to the estate. I drove them to a secure penthouse I owned in Manhattan, a property in a fake name that Celeste knew nothing about.
I carried Lily to the guest bedroom. She was asleep, her fever breaking thanks to the heat of the car. I pulled a thick down comforter over her, staring at the face that looked so much like my late son.
I had lost Julian because of my sins. I would burn the city to the ground before I lost this little girl.
I walked into the living room where Hannah was holding a mug of tea, trembling.
“Stay here. The door is steel-reinforced. My top two men are in the lobby. Do not open the door for anyone but me,” I instructed.
“Where are you going?” Hannah asked.
“To ask my fiancée some questions.”
I drove back to the estate. The party was over. The caterers were gone. The house was dead quiet.
I walked into the master suite. Celeste wasn’t in bed.
The closet doors were thrown open. Her designer luggage was gone.
My chest tightened. I walked to the hidden safe behind the painting in my study. The biometric lock was still engaged. I pressed my thumb to it. The heavy steel door clicked open.
Empty.
Millions in untraceable bearer bonds, the deeds to my legitimate companies, and the emergency cash—all gone.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Marcus, my head of security.
“Boss,” Marcus said, his voice tense. “We have a problem.”
“Celeste is gone,” I said.
“Worse,” Marcus replied. “She just pawned the emerald necklace you gave her in the Diamond District. But that’s not why I’m calling. The broker ran the serial number on the clasp. Grant... the necklace originally belonged to the Moretti family.”
I stopped breathing. The Morettis. The rival crime family I had decimated ten years ago to build my empire. The patriarch had killed himself. His wife died of a broken heart. They had one daughter who vanished into foster care.
Celeste wasn’t just a gold digger. She was a Moretti.
“Boss?” Marcus asked.
Before I could answer, my phone beeped. Another call was coming in. It was Hannah.
May you like
I switched over. “Hannah, what is it?”
“Grant!” she screamed, the sound of shattering glass echoing in the background. “There’s a man in the penthouse! He bypassed the lobby! He’s wearing Julian’s coat!”
