Chapter 2 - The Wedding Ring
“Because I'm not Daniel's wife. I'm Anthony's daughter.”
The words echoed in the dimly lit restaurant, cutting through the distant sound of gunfire from the cellar.
Margaret stared at the gold band resting in Vanessa’s outstretched palm. It was unmistakably Anthony’s. The inner edge bore the tiny, custom engraving Margaret had ordered thirty-five years ago: Forever the King.
But Anthony had never had another daughter.
Or so Margaret had believed.
“He found my mother in Naples,” Vanessa said, her voice shaking but her eyes locked on Margaret. “Before you. Before the empire. When he faked his death eleven years ago, he came back for me. He trained me to infiltrate Daniel’s life. To act as the perfect, obedient wife, while reporting every move your traitorous son made back to him.”
Margaret’s mind reeled. For a decade, Vanessa had sat at her Sunday dinner table, smiling, pouring wine, playing the devoted daughter-in-law.
All while being a spy for a dead man.
“You set my son up,” Margaret whispered.
“Your son set himself up,” Vanessa shot back. “Daniel orchestrated the fire that supposedly killed Grace. He planned to poison you tonight. I just watched it happen.”
Victor, the security captain who had betrayed Margaret for Daniel, suddenly raised his weapon.
“This soap opera is over,” Victor sneered. “Anthony’s men are coming through the cellar. I’m delivering you all to him right now.”
He aimed the gun directly at Margaret’s chest.
A gunshot deafened the room.
But it wasn’t Victor who fired.
Victor gasped, his eyes going wide. He dropped his weapon and collapsed against the marble bar, clutching his stomach.
Behind him stood Vanessa, a smoking suppressed pistol in her hand.
Rachel, the young waitress, screamed and covered her ears. Grace instinctively shielded her mother.
Margaret stared at Vanessa, completely stunned. “You shot Anthony’s man? I thought you worked for him.”
Vanessa’s elegant facade finally shattered. Tears welled in her dark eyes.
“I did work for him,” Vanessa said, her voice cracking. “Until ten minutes ago. When Anthony told his men to leave nobody standing, he meant me, too. I was just another pawn. He’s tying up loose ends, Margaret. All of us.”
The heavy steel doors of the wine cellar began to screech. Sparks flew as a blowtorch cut through the hinges from the other side. Anthony’s hit squad was breaching the final barrier.
“We have to move!” Rachel yelled, snapping Margaret out of her shock. “The old Prohibition tunnels. The kitchen pantry covers the entrance.”
“Lead the way,” Margaret ordered.
They scrambled past the overturned tables. Margaret grabbed Victor’s discarded weapon from the floor. As she did, something slipped out of the dying security captain’s breast pocket.
It hit the blood-stained marble with a heavy clink.
Margaret paused.
It was a small, tarnished gold locket.
She flipped it open. Inside wasn't a picture of a loved one. It was a closely cropped photograph of a little boy, no older than five, with striking green eyes.
May you like
Grace stopped dead in her tracks, her breath hitching in her throat.
“Mom,” Grace whispered, her face draining of all color. “That’s my son.”
