Chapter 3 - COLLATERAL DAMAGE
Vanessa Sterling was not smiling anymore.
Her perfectly styled hair was a mess. Her expensive gown was wrinkled where Silas gripped the fabric at the back of her neck.
Her eyes were wide, terrified, pleading with Ethan to do something.
Silas looked exactly the same as he had eight years ago.
Cold, hollow eyes. A scar running along his jawline from the night I thought he died.
He didn't have a weapon drawn. He didn't need one. His hands were lethal enough.
"Let her go," Ethan stepped forward, his voice remarkably steady for a man who had never seen real violence.
Silas smiled. It was a terrifying, empty expression.
"I don't care about the girl," Silas said. His gaze shifted from Ethan to me. "I only care about the housekeeper."
I slipped the burned locket into my apron pocket.
I kept my hands visible, my stance relaxed but coiled.
"You survived the collapse," I said, keeping my voice even.
"Barely," Silas replied. "You took something from me that night. You ruined my exit. And then you vanished into high society, folding napkins and serving tea. Pathetic."
Vanessa gasped, struggling against his grip. "Ethan, help me!"
I took one step forward. "She has nothing to do with Philadelphia. She doesn't even know what you're talking about. Let her walk."
"She’s leverage," Silas countered.
"She's a liability," I shot back. "She's loud, she's panicked, and she'll draw the police. You didn't come here to get arrested, Silas. You came for what's in my pocket."
Silas tilted his head, calculating.
He knew I was right.
"The locket," he demanded.
Before I could move, Ethan stepped between me and Silas.
"You're not giving him anything," Ethan said firmly.
"Ethan, move," I warned him.
"No," Ethan said, looking directly at Silas. "My father hired you. Which means you answer to the Whitmore family. Drop her."
Silas actually laughed.
"You think your father is in charge?" Silas mocked. "Your father is a desperate man trying to cover up his mistakes. He didn't hire me to protect this house. He hired me to find the leak."
Silas shoved Vanessa forward.
She stumbled, falling hard onto the marble floor, scraping her knees.
She didn't try to stand up. She just scrambled backward, crying, completely broken.
Silas pointed at me. "Tomorrow night. The old shipyard at the docks. Bring it, or I start dismantling this family piece by piece. Starting with the boy."
Silas turned and walked out the side exit, vanishing into the night as sirens began to wail in the distance.
The ballroom was completely empty now, save for the four of us.
Margaret, Ethan, Vanessa, and me.
Ethan immediately went to Vanessa, helping her up. She clung to him, sobbing into his expensive suit.
But Ethan's eyes were on me.
"Who are you?" he asked. The warmth that had been there for eleven months was gone. Replaced by suspicion.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Margaret stepped forward, her voice low.
"She's the woman who killed your older brother."
The silence that followed was heavier than the grave.
Ethan let go of Vanessa.
He stared at me, his face pale. "David died in a car accident. Ten years ago."
Margaret reached into her coat again.
She pulled out a faded photograph.
She held it out to Ethan.
"Look at the driver of the other car."
Ethan took the photo with trembling hands.
I already knew what was in the picture.
It was me, at twenty-two, standing near a burning wreck in Philadelphia.
But what I saw next made my blood turn to ice.
Ethan flipped the photo over.
Written on the back, in my own handwriting—handwriting I didn't remember putting there—were the words: Target eliminated.
May you like
"That's a lie," I whispered.
Margaret looked at me, her eyes filled with pity. "Is it?"
