Chapter 4 - THE SHADOWS IN THE COURTYARD
The subterranean service tunnel was dimly lit by flickering emergency bulbs that cast long, distorted shadows against the damp brick walls.
The distant sound of shattered glass echoed from the main estate above like thunder rolling across an empty sky. Heavy boots stomped against the marble floors of the grand foyer, followed by shouting and the unmistakable clatter of overturned furniture.
Noah whimpered, his small hand gripping my fingers so tightly my circulation cut off. I knelt down, brushing a lock of dark hair from his forehead, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“You’re doing so brave, Noah,” I whispered, forcing a smile that felt entirely fake. “Just keep your eyes on me, okay? We’re going to be fine.”
Evelyn leaned against the brick wall, breathing heavily, clutching the small wooden sewing box against her chest like a shield. Her face was pale, lined with the exhaustion of a woman who had lived through a lifetime of secrets and was now facing their explosive finale.
“Mr. Dominic,” Evelyn rasped, her voice trembling. “The men upstairs... they aren't ordinary rivals. That’s the Vanguard Syndicate. They’ve been trying to buy the Palermo shipping routes from Anthony for six months.”
Dominic paused at the heavy iron exit door leading up to the estate’s private courtyard. He glanced back over his shoulder, his dark eyes sharp in the gloom.
“Vanguard doesn't move without inside clearance,” Dominic said, his gaze shifting slowly toward Bianca, who had been escorted down the tunnel by one of the guards.
Bianca’s hair was slightly disheveled, but her chin remained stubbornly high. She sneered as she leaned against the damp wall.
“You think I called them?” Bianca spat. “You arrogant fool, Dominic. If Vanguard takes over the estate tonight, you’re dead, Anthony is ruined, and I’m the only one with the corporate leverage to negotiate a buyout. I’m securing our survival!”
Dominic didn't yell. He didn't curse. He simply walked over to Bianca, grabbed her by the upper arm with a grip that made her gasp, and pushed her flat against the brick wall.
“You sold your soul for a seat at a table that’s about to burn down,” Dominic whispered, his face inches from hers. “If a single hair on that boy’s head is harmed tonight, I won't just kill the Vanguard hitmen. I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in a federal penitentiary wearing prison orange sewn by Evelyn herself.”
Bianca paled, her defiant facade finally shattering into pure terror.
Dominic released her, turned to the iron door, and slid his access card through the mechanical reader while punching a secondary override code with his left hand.
The door hissed open, releasing a rush of crisp night air mixed with the sharp scent of burning rubber and gunsmoke.
We stepped out into the enclosed cobblestone courtyard behind the main manor. The massive oak trees swayed in the cool autumn wind, casting eerie patterns under the moonlight. Parked near the fountain were three black SUVs with their headlights smashed out, doors standing wide open.
There was no sign of the estate security guards.
“Clear,” Dominic muttered, gesturing for us to stay low near the stone planter boxes.
We moved quickly toward the garage where the armored staff vans were parked. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Every shadow looked like an assassin; every gust of wind sounded like a footstep.
Suddenly, a laser sight red dot flickered across the stone wall right beside Noah’s head.
“Get down!” Dominic roared, shoving Noah and Evelyn behind the heavy iron frame of an antique tractor.
CRACK!
A gunshot shattered the silence, chipping the brickwork inches from where Dominic stood. Glass exploded from the windshield of one of the SUVs.
Dominic didn't hesitate. He drew his weapon, leaned around the corner of the stone wall, and fired two precise shots toward the second-story balcony of the guest house.
A muffled groan echoed from above, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the stone patio below.
“Claire, take Noah and Evelyn into the parts shed!” Dominic ordered over the ringing in my ears. “Lock the deadbolt from the inside! Do not open it for anyone unless you hear my voice saying your mother’s favorite recipe!”
“What? Dominic, no!” I cried out.
“Go!” he shouted, firing another round into the darkness.
I grabbed Noah’s hand and practically dragged him across the open courtyard, shielding Evelyn with my body. Bullets kicked up gravel around our feet, biting into the dirt. We scrambled into the dark, cramped interior of the parts shed, slamming the heavy wooden door shut and throwing the iron deadbolt into place.
Inside, it smelled of motor oil, old tires, and dust.
Noah was crying softly now, burying his face in my jacket. Evelyn was gasping for air, clutching her chest, her fingers trembling uncontrollably.
“Claire...” Evelyn wheezed, her hand sliding down my arm. “The... the wooden box... open it.”
“Mrs. Brooks, save your breath, you need to rest—”
“No!” Evelyn insisted, her voice surprisingly sharp despite her weakness. “The bottom panel... push the brass pin. Hurry!”
My hands shook as I reached for the wooden sewing box resting on Noah’s lap. I found the tiny, hidden brass pin beneath the spool compartment and pressed it hard.
A hidden wooden floorboard inside the box clicked open.
Inside lay a folded sheet of heavy, yellowed parchment sealed with red wax bearing the personal crest of the Romano family patriarch—and tucked right beside it was a heavy iron key with a jagged, antique bit.
The key to the Zurich safe deposit box.
And beneath the key was something else: a small, silver locket engraved with the initials C.R.
I opened the locket in the dim light filtering through the dusty window. Inside was a miniature portrait of a baby boy wrapped in a blue silk blanket—with a date inscribed on the back that made my blood run cold.
The date matched Dominic’s exact birthday.
Only... the birth certificate on file said Dominic was born at the city hospital.
The engraving inside the locket said he was born in a private coastal villa in Palermo—the exact property owned by Dominic’s banished uncle.
Before I could process what that meant, heavy boots slammed against the wooden door of the shed.
BANG! BANG!
“Open the door or we blow the hinges!” a harsh, gravelly voice shouted from outside.
May you like
Noah screamed, and Evelyn grabbed my wrist with terrifying strength.
“Claire,” Evelyn whispered, her eyes wide with urgency. “Listen to me. Dominic is not who he thinks he is. And neither is Anthony.”
