Chapter 2 - IN THE DARK
The darkness was absolute, heavy and suffocating.
Then came the mechanical groan of grinding gears. The vibration moved through the soles of my shoes, shaking the marble floor.
Guests screamed. Glass shattered as someone dropped their champagne in the pitch black.
“Mommy!” Lily shrieked.
I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around my daughter, burying her face into my shoulder. I expected shouting. I expected chaos.
Instead, a heavy, warm weight settled over both of us.
It was Vincent.
He had moved without a sound, throwing his own tailored suit jacket—and his large body—over us like a human shield. He smelled of cedar and expensive cologne, but his muscles were coiled tight as wire.
“Nobody moves,” Vincent’s voice boomed. It wasn’t a yell. It was a command that sliced through the panic.
Emergency red lighting flickered to life. The grand foyer was bathed in a bloody, pulsing glow.
The heavy steel door that had unlocked wasn’t a basement. It was a reinforced panic vault built directly into the grand staircase, its heavy tungsten panels sliding open.
Vincent didn't look at the vault. His eyes were locked on Celeste.
She was standing near the entrance, her silver heels discarded, holding a cell phone. Its screen was dead.
“The signal jammers are on,” Vincent said, his voice deadly quiet. “Who were you trying to call, Celeste?”
Celeste’s perfect mask slipped. Her hands trembled, but she jutted her chin out. “Don’t be ridiculous, Vincent. The power went out. I was turning on my flashlight.”
“Liar,” one of the bodyguards grunted, stepping forward. “Her phone was trying to dial an external line just as the lockdown triggered.”
Vincent looked down at me. His dark eyes softened for a fraction of a second when he saw Lily shaking against my chest.
He stood up, pulling a heavy, wool coat from a nearby closet and draping it over my shoulders. “Put this on her. The temperature drops during a lockdown.”
I wrapped the coat around Lily. She was clutching the old brass key so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Mr. Romano,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Who was the man at my daughter’s school? What does that key open?”
Vincent didn't answer immediately. He walked toward the open steel vault. Inside, the red emergency lights illuminated walls lined with art. Stolen art. Masterpieces the world thought had burned decades ago.
But it wasn't the art that caught his attention. It was a small, velvet-lined pedestal in the center of the room.
The glass case over it was empty.
“You asked where she got the shoes, Vincent,” Celeste said, her voice dripping with sudden, venomous confidence. “Maybe you should be asking the art restorer how she knew exactly which pair of trashy sneakers to dress her brat in today.”
“I didn't!” I snapped, standing up. “They were donated to our parish!”
“And the key just happened to be inside?” Celeste sneered. “She’s playing you, Vincent. She stole it.”
Vincent ignored his fiancée. He walked back to us and crouched in front of Lily.
“Lily,” he said gently. “The man at your school. Did he have a silver scar on his jaw? Right here?” Vincent traced a line on his own face.
Lily’s eyes widened. She nodded slowly.
Vincent stood up. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“That man is dead,” Vincent said. “I killed him seven years ago.”
My heart stopped.
Vincent turned to his men. “Search the grounds. And someone check the vault.”
A guard rushed into the steel room. A moment later, he emerged, his face pale.
“Boss,” the guard stammered. “The master ledger… it’s gone. But they left this.”
The guard held out his hand.
May you like
Resting in his palm was a silver rosary.
I gasped. I knew that rosary. It had a chipped wooden cross and a missing bead. It belonged to my father. It was buried with him nine years ago.
