THE LIES SHE POURED

The smell of aged wine and blood-red panic filled the small, enclosed vault.

Rebecca held the jagged glass out like a dagger, stepping slowly toward me. Her manicured facade was completely gone, replaced by a ruthless survivor who would burn the world down to get what she wanted.

"Hand over the kid, Sadie, and maybe I’ll make it quick for you," she sneered.

I shoved Leo behind me, backing into the heavy oak racks. Glass bottles clinked ominously behind my spine.

"You're out of your mind," I said, my voice shaking but loud. "Dominic will burn Chicago to the ground to find you."

"Dominic is dead," she said coldly. "Marco intercepted his car on the highway. By now, he's a smoking crater on I-95. Now give me the boy."

Dominic is dead. The words hit me like a physical blow. The stoic, fiercely protective man who had defended me at dinner just hours ago... gone? I refused to believe it.

"I'm not giving you Leo," I said. My hand blindly searched the shelf behind me, my fingers wrapping around the neck of a heavy champagne bottle.

Rebecca lunged.

I swung the champagne bottle with everything I had. It collided with her wrist with a sickening crack. Rebecca shrieked, dropping the broken glass, clutching her arm as she stumbled backward.

But I had underestimated her desperation. Instead of retreating, she kicked out with her heavy heel, catching me sharply in the knee. My leg buckled. I went down hard on the cold stone floor, the champagne bottle rolling away into the shadows.

Rebecca threw herself on top of me, her good hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing with terrifying strength.

"You stupid little maid!" she screamed, spit flying into my face. "I suffered for nineteen years in this life! I deserve that money!"

Black spots danced in my vision. I clawed at her hand, but her grip was iron. I couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed through the vault.

Rebecca’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed sideways off my chest.

I gasped, sucking in cold, damp air, coughing violently as I scrambled backward.

Arthur stood over her.

He was swaying on his feet, pale as a ghost, gasping for breath. In his trembling hands, he held a heavy iron fire poker he must have grabbed from the decorative display near the cellar door. He dropped it with a clang, clutching his chest, and fell to his knees.

"Arthur!" I crawled to him, supporting his weight as he slumped against the wine racks. "Arthur, you're awake!"

"Not... for long," he wheezed, his lips tinged blue. He looked down at his daughter's unconscious body, tears leaking from his wrinkled eyes. "I'm sorry. I failed her. I failed my Margaret."

"You didn't fail anyone," I cried, holding his hand. "You saved me. You saved Leo."

Arthur weakly reached into his shirt. His trembling fingers bypassed the empty chain where the pawn ticket used to be, and instead pulled out a worn, wooden rosary. He pressed it into my hand.

"Open the cross," he whispered, his eyes losing focus. "Open it."

I looked at the wooden crucifix. I pressed my thumbnail into a tiny seam at the base of the cross. With a soft click, it popped open, revealing a tiny, hollowed-out compartment.

Inside was a micro-SD card.

"What is this?" I asked.

"The dashcam," Arthur gasped out. "From the night... Margaret died. Marco didn't know the car had one. Margaret installed it... because she didn't trust Becca. It shows everything. Give it... to Dominic."

"Rebecca said Dominic is dead!"

Arthur smiled weakly. "Falcones... don't die in car crashes. They die of old age."

His head rolled to the side. His chest stopped heaving.

"Arthur?" I shook him. "Arthur, no, please!"

He was gone.

I sat in the cold cellar, clutching the rosary and the SD card, tears streaming down my face. Little Leo crept out from behind the racks and wrapped his arms around my neck, crying silently into my hair.

Then, the heavy steel door behind me rattled.

Someone was turning the wheel from the outside.

I pulled Leo close, holding my breath, waiting for Marco Vance's men to finish the job.