Chapter 2 - THE SILVER KEY
“Which one of you was waiting for me to fall?”
Marco’s voice didn’t echo. It didn’t need to. It simply dropped the temperature in the ballroom to freezing.
Dominic slowly lowered his wineglass to a cocktail table. His hands were perfectly steady. Too steady.
“Marco,” Dominic said, stepping forward. “I didn’t touch your stairs. And I certainly didn’t put a camera in your mask.”
Vivian let out a sharp, breathless laugh. “Then why did Sofia see a camera in your bedroom, Dominic? Are you watching yourself sleep?”
“Enough,” Marco ordered.
He didn’t look at Dominic. He looked at me. “Sofia. You said you saw the same camera in his room.” “Yes, Mr. Bellini.” “Where?”
I kept my eyes locked on Dominic. “On his desk. Tucked behind a framed photograph of his late wife.”
Dominic’s face drained of color. Not from guilt. From sheer, unadulterated panic. He reached into his jacket pocket. Security immediately drew their weapons, the metallic clicks echoing off the marble floor.
“Don’t shoot!” Dominic yelled, pulling his hand out slowly. He wasn’t holding a weapon. He was holding a small, silver key.
He tossed it onto the floor between Marco and himself. It landed with a heavy clink. “I found that camera on my desk three days ago,” Dominic said, his voice raw. “It wasn’t mine. It was placed there by whoever broke into my private safe.”
Marco tilted his head, his damaged eye narrowing behind the tinted lens. “What was in the safe, Dominic?”
Dominic swallowed hard. “The shipping manifest from the night of your ambush.”
The room went dead silent. A month ago, Marco’s convoy had been hit on the South Side docks. Everyone assumed it was a rival family. But if the manifest was stolen from the cousin who ran the territory...
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Marco asked softly.
“Because whoever took it left that silver key in its place,” Dominic replied. “It’s the key to the master control box for the mansion’s security system. Marco, whoever is trying to kill you isn’t an outsider. They have full access to this house.”
I felt a cold chill run down my spine. I looked at the silver key on the floor. Then I looked at Vivian.
Her hands were shaking. She was clutching her evening bag so tightly the clasp was digging into her skin.
Marco noticed my gaze. He didn’t need full vision to read the room. “Vivian,” he said. “Open your purse.”
She backed away. “Marco, please. Don’t do this in front of everyone.” “Open it.”
She slowly unclasped the bag. She reached inside, her fingers trembling. She didn’t pull out a camera. She didn’t pull out a weapon.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper. When she handed it to Marco, he couldn’t read it. The light was too bright. He handed it to me. “Read it, Sofia.”
I unfolded the paper. It wasn’t a threat. It was a child’s drawing. Crayon on construction paper. A crude drawing of a little boy holding hands with a woman who had Vivian’s blonde hair.
Written at the top, in jagged letters, were the words: I want to come home, Auntie Viv.
Vivian broke down sobbing. “They took him,” she wept, falling to her knees. “They took my sister’s son the night of your ambush. They said if I didn’t remove the railing tonight, they’d kill him.”
Marco stared down at her. “Who took him?”
May you like
Vivian looked up, her mascara running down her cheeks. “Your head of security. Leo.”
We all turned. But Leo wasn’t standing behind Marco anymore. The heavy ballroom doors clicked loudly as the deadbolts slid into place from the outside.
