Chapter 6 - THE MATRIARCH'S RETURN
The silence on the third-floor landing was absolute, broken only by the distant howling of the wind through the shattered window.
Vincent stood frozen, Emma clutched tightly in his arms. The man who had faced down rival cartel bosses and corrupt politicians without flinching looked as though he had just seen a specter rise from the grave.
“Mother?” Vincent finally forced the word past his lips. It sounded foreign, broken. “You... you’re supposed to be in Zurich.”
Elena Romano stepped over the smoldering remains of the electronic signal jammer she had just destroyed. She didn't look like an aging grandmother enjoying a quiet retirement in the Swiss Alps. She looked like a queen surveying a battlefield she had conquered decades ago.
“Hello, Vincent,” Elena said, her voice smooth, chillingly calm, and entirely devoid of maternal warmth. “You always were terrible at keeping your estate secure. A signal jammer in the utility closet, and your entire security grid goes dark for twenty minutes.”
She glanced past Vincent, her piercing amber eyes briefly landing on me, and then shifting down to the sleeping child in his arms.
“Put the child down, Vincent,” Elena commanded, her tone brooking no argument. “She doesn't need to hear what we have to discuss.”
“Don't you dare tell me what to do with my daughter,” Vincent snarled, stepping forward, his massive frame radiating suppressed violence. “Dr. Vance is downstairs. The financial ledgers are downstairs. You poisoned my wife.”
Elena didn't flinch. She let out a soft, elegant chuckle, smoothing the lapels of her dark wool coat.
“Adrian always was a coward,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Give him a mild sedative and a dark room, and he’ll confess to assassinating the Pope if you ask nicely. No, Vincent. I didn't poison Olivia.”
Vincent narrowed his eyes, the gun in his holster twitching. “Then explain the bank accounts. Explain why Daniel was following your orders to monitor her.”
“Daniel is a fool who wanted a piece of the shipping pie,” Elena replied dismissively. “He came to me because he was terrified Olivia was going to expose his illegal side-deals with the dock unions. I merely gave him permission to manage her.”
“Manage her?” Vincent’s voice rose, vibrating with fury. “She’s dead, Mother! Her boat went down!”
“Her boat went down,” Elena repeated, stepping closer, her amber eyes locking onto his with terrifying intensity, “because she was trying to flee with thirty million dollars of Romano capital hidden in an offshore trust that she set up behind your back. She was a thief, Vincent. I simply insured our family’s survival.”
I watched Vincent’s face. The confusion, the grief, and the rage were warring within him, tearing him apart piece by piece.
“You’re lying,” Vincent whispered. “Olivia loved this family.”
“Olivia loved herself,” Elena countered sharply. She reached into the deep pocket of her coat and pulled out a heavy, tarnished gold object, dangling it by a broken chain.
It was the original, undamaged watch. The one with the lightning-shaped crack.
“She left this on the dock the night she escaped,” Elena said softly. “She thought she was smarter than all of us. But she forgot one very important detail.”
Elena looked directly at me, and a cold shiver ran down my spine.
“She forgot,” Elena continued, “that maids talk. And sometimes, maids keep secrets.”
Before Vincent could react, Elena tossed the gold watch across the floor. It skidded across the Persian rug and came to a stop right at my feet.
I looked down at it, my breath catching in my throat.
“What are you talking about, Mother?” Vincent demanded, stepping between Elena and me.
“Ask her, Vincent,” Elena smiled maliciously, pointing a gloved finger at me. “Ask Claire who she was really working for before she took a job in your house five years ago.”
Vincent slowly turned his head to look at me. The absolute trust in his dark eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, agonizing doubt.
“Claire?” Vincent asked quietly. “What is she talking about?”
I stared down at the gold watch on the floor. The room seemed to tilt on its axis.
“Mr. Romano,” I whispered, my voice trembling as the hidden pieces of my own past finally clawed their way to the surface. “I... I didn't know.”
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“Didn't know what?” Vincent pressed, his hand instinctively resting on his weapon.
“My maiden name isn't Bennett,” I choked out, tears finally spilling over my lashes. “It’s Vance. Adrian Vance is my uncle.”
