Chapter 5 - THE BRASS KEY
"Celeste," Gabriel said, his voice cutting through the pitch-black basement like a blade. He didn't shout. He was entirely calm, shifting his body to stand squarely in front of Molly and me.
"It's over, Gabriel," Celeste’s voice drifted through the darkness. It was impossible to pinpoint exactly where she was standing in the cavernous laundry room. "My men have the exits secured. Elias is bleeding out on the kitchen floor."
I covered Molly’s mouth with my hand to muffle her terrified gasp. I pulled her tightly against my chest, crouching behind a massive industrial washing machine.
"You killed my accountant, stole three million dollars, and waited five years to infiltrate my home?" Gabriel asked, his tone almost conversational. "Why the long game, Celeste? If you wanted money, you had it."
"It was never just about the money," Celeste spat, her voice suddenly trembling with rage. "Your father ruined my family, Gabriel. He drove my father into bankruptcy to buy our land for pennies. My father shot himself in his office because of you Carusos."
I pressed my back against the cold metal of the washing machine. The pieces were slamming together. The twenty thousand dollars, the missing money, the fake romance. It was all revenge.
"David was supposed to launder the three million and disappear," Celeste continued, her footsteps clicking slowly on the concrete. "But he got a conscience. He found out I was going to use the money to fund a hit on your family, and he panicked. He hid the money, took the rosary as collateral, and threatened to expose me."
My breath hitched. David didn't steal the money for himself. He took it to stop a war. He died trying to protect his family. My husband wasn't a criminal; he was a hostage to his own mistakes.
"So you cut his brakes," Gabriel said.
"I did what I had to do," Celeste replied coldly. "And I would have gotten away with it if this stupid maid hadn't worn that rosary tonight. Where is the ledger, Beth? David had a book. A physical ledger with the account numbers. Where is it?"
"I don't have it!" I yelled into the dark. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Liar!" Celeste screamed, a gunshot ringing out. The bullet sparked against the metal locker bank, mere feet from where we were hiding. Molly whimpered, burying her face in my neck.
Gabriel moved in the dark. I couldn't see him, but I heard the subtle slide of his leather shoes.
"Beth," Gabriel whispered, so faintly I almost didn't hear him. He was right beside me. He pressed something cold and heavy into my palm. "Take this."
I felt the object. It was a heavy brass key.
"There's an old service elevator behind the boiler," Gabriel whispered in my ear. "This key unlocks the manual override. Take Molly. Go up to the third floor. Lock yourselves in my father's old study."
"What about you?" I whispered back, terrified.
"I'm going to end this," Gabriel said.
Before I could protest, Gabriel stood up and fired two shots blindly toward the sound of Celeste's voice.
"Run!" he yelled.
I grabbed Molly’s hand and scrambled in the dark. I knew this basement. I had mopped every inch of it for six months. I felt my way along the damp concrete wall, keeping Molly low, until my hands hit the rusted metal grate of the old service elevator.
I fumbled with the brass key, my hands shaking violently. Click. The heavy grate slid open. I pushed Molly inside and pulled the lever. The small, ancient elevator groaned and began a painstakingly slow ascent.
Below us, gunfire erupted. The flashes lit up the basement like lightning, casting horrific shadows on the walls.
I pulled Molly into the corner of the elevator, wrapping my arms around her. "It's okay, baby. We're going up. We're safe."
The elevator shuddered to a halt on the third floor. I pushed the grate open and ran down the plushly carpeted hallway, pulling Molly behind me. The third floor was Gabriel’s private sanctuary. At the end of the hall were the heavy double doors of his father's old study.
We burst inside, and I slammed the doors shut, throwing the heavy deadbolt.
The room was illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the large French windows. It was a grand room, filled with antique globes and velvet chairs.
"Sit under the desk," I told Molly, my voice shaking. "Do not come out, no matter what you hear."
Molly crawled under the massive mahogany desk, her small hands clutching her knees.
I leaned against the door, listening. The house was terrifyingly silent. The gunfire from the basement had stopped.
I waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes.
Then, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.
They were slow, deliberate. They stopped right outside the study doors.
"Beth," a voice called out.
It wasn't Gabriel.
It was Martin, the man from the dinner table. The man who had exposed Celeste.
"Open the door, Beth," Martin said, his voice calm and grandfatherly. "Gabriel sent me. It’s safe now."
I froze. My hand hovered over the deadbolt. I wanted so desperately to believe him.
But then I looked down at the floor. Sliding slowly under the crack of the door was a thick, dark liquid.
In the moonlight, it looked black. But the metallic smell of copper filled the room immediately.
May you like
It was blood.
"Beth?" Martin asked again, the doorknob rattling violently. "I know you're in there. Open the door, or I'll burn this room to the ground."
