Chapter 4 - THE BRASS KEY
The room spun. My knees buckled, but Nicolo caught me before I hit the floor. He guided me back into the chair, his hands firm and steady on my arms.
"Breathe, Mara," Nicolo commanded. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an anchor. "Panic will not find your son. Focus."
I stared at the silver rosary on the table. The beads were worn smooth from years of prayer. Mrs. Gable never left her apartment without locking the deadbolt three times. She loved Leo like a grandson. She would never just leave.
"Was there a struggle?" Nicolo asked Dante.
"No signs of forced entry," Dante replied, his face hard. "No blood. Neighbors heard nothing. It’s like they just walked out."
"Because she knew them," I realized, the horrifying truth sinking in. "Sloane told me about Mrs. Gable. I mentioned her when I interviewed for this job. I told Sloane I had a reliable sitter."
Nicolo’s jaw tightened. "She used your own vetting against you. She knew the sitter, knew the schedule. Dante, check the perimeter cameras. Find out what cars left the neighborhood in the last hour."
As Dante hurried out, I buried my face in my hands. "This is my fault. I brought him to her attention."
"Stop," Nicolo said sharply. "The only person responsible for this is the woman locked in my study."
He turned and marched out of the dining room. I followed him, refusing to be left behind. We reached the heavy oak doors of the study. Nicolo didn't bother with the key; he kicked the door open.
Sloane was sitting behind Nicolo’s desk, casually flipping through a leather-bound book. She didn't flinch when the door slammed against the wall.
"Where is he?" Nicolo demanded, crossing the room in three strides.
"Safe," Sloane said calmly. "Watching cartoons in a very nice hotel room. He’s eating a bowl of ice cream right now."
"Give him back."
"I will," Sloane said, closing the book. "In exchange for your signature on the deed to the East Side shipping ports. Transfer them to Bradford's syndicate."
Nicolo laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "You kidnapped a child for real estate?"
"I secured an asset for a business transaction," Sloane corrected coldly. "You refused to sell. Bradford wants the ports. He pays well. I get my cut, and you get to keep playing the noble, reformed mafia prince."
"I will kill you, Sloane."
"If you do, the babysitter gets a phone call, and the boy disappears forever."
Nicolo lunged, grabbing her by the throat, pulling her halfway across the mahogany desk. Sloane gasped, her hands flying to his wrists, but she was smiling. She knew she had him. Nicolo couldn't hurt her without risking Leo.
"Nicolo, wait!" I shouted, grabbing his arm. "Don't. She's telling the truth. We need her alive."
Nicolo's chest heaved. Slowly, agonizingly, he released her. Sloane slumped back into the chair, rubbing her neck, her smirk returning.
"Smart girl, Mara," she wheezed. "You have twenty-four hours, Nicolo. Sign the papers, or the kid takes a one-way trip."
Nicolo grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room, slamming and locking the door behind us.
"We need leverage," Nicolo said, pacing the hallway. "She's hiding something else. She wouldn't risk this kind of move just for real estate. Bradford is a pawn. There's a bigger player behind this."
Just then, a small voice echoed from the shadows of the hallway.
"Mr. Russo?"
We turned. It was Lucy. She hadn't left yet. She was standing near the staff staircase, trembling in her oversized coat.
"Lucy, I told you to go home," Nicolo said gently.
"I know," she whispered, stepping forward. "But I couldn't leave Mara. I know something."
I rushed to her. "What is it, sweetie?"
Lucy reached into her pocket. Her small, shaking hand emerged holding a heavy, antique brass key.
"Sloane didn't just recruit us," Lucy confessed, her voice breaking. "She forced us. She found out my dad owed money to loan sharks. She paid it off, and then told me I had to work the 'private dinners' to pay her back. If I didn't, she said the sharks would come back for my little sister."
Tears spilled down Lucy's cheeks. "I was so scared, Mara. I backed out tonight. That's why Mr. Bradford was angry. But I know where she keeps the real records. Not the ones on her phone. The real ledger. All the blackmail. All the names."
May you like
Nicolo stared at the key. "Where?"
"In the old carriage house at the edge of the property," Lucy said, dropping the key into my palm. "She goes there every night at midnight. There's a safe under the floorboards."
