Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH

The air left my lungs.
I stared at the photograph in the manila folder. The man standing next to a teenage Grace was Arthur Vance. He had been the head of the most ruthless rival syndicate in Miami. He was a man who had tried to take my territory, and he had paid for it with his life.
And Grace—my son’s gentle, soft-spoken nanny—was standing beside him, wearing a dark dress, her face devoid of the warmth I had come to know.
"She's Arthur Vance’s daughter," Vanessa said, stepping closer to my mother, emboldened by the revelation. "She infiltrated your house, Victor. She's been planning God knows what. And you let her sleep down the hall from your son."
I looked up at Grace.
Noah was still clinging to her, completely unaware that the adults around him were tearing their world apart.
"Grace," I said, my voice dangerously flat. "Is this true?"
Grace slowly lowered Noah to the floor. "Noah, sweetie, go to your playroom. Look at the new puzzle we bought."
Noah looked at me. I gave him a tight nod. He waddled away, sensing the danger in the room but trusting Grace’s calm tone.
Once he was out of earshot, Grace finally looked at me. The red handprint on her cheek stood out starkly against her pale skin.
"My name is Grace Vance," she said quietly. "Arthur was my father."
My hand instinctively moved toward the holster at my hip. The betrayal tasted like ash.
"You came into my home to get revenge?" I asked.
Grace shook her head. "No. I hated my father. I walked away from his syndicate when I was eighteen. I changed my name so his enemies wouldn't find me."
"Then why are you here?" my mother demanded. "Why this house?"
Grace looked at the silver bracelet resting on the glass table.
"I didn't steal that, Victor," Grace said, her voice breaking slightly. "I didn't take it from your safe."
Vanessa scoffed. "Please. I saw you."
"I didn't take it from the safe," Grace repeated, ignoring Vanessa entirely and locking her eyes onto mine. "Because it was never in the safe."
I frowned. "I put it there myself."
"No," Grace said. "You put the velvet box in the safe. But you never opened it, did you?"
My heart stopped. She was right. I hadn't opened the box. I couldn't bear to look at Claire’s jewelry.
Grace reached into the pocket of her simple navy dress.
She pulled out a small, folded piece of thick stationary. It looked old, the edges worn from being handled.
"I didn't come to this house for revenge," Grace whispered. "I came because I was asked to."
She handed me the note.
I didn't need to read the signature. I knew the handwriting. It was the elegant, sloping script of my dead wife.
Grace, the note read. If you are reading this, the doctors were right, and my heart gave out. You promised me three years ago that if I ever needed a lifeline, you would be there. I need you now. Please, keep my son safe. Keep Victor grounded. Do not let Margaret choose his future. Enclosed is my anniversary bracelet. Sell it if you need the funds to get to Miami. Just protect my boy.
I stared at the paper. My hands began to shake.
"You knew Claire?" I breathed.
"We met at a charity clinic four years ago," Grace said. "Before she met you. She was the only person who didn't judge me for my father's sins."
Vanessa snatched the note from my hands. "This is a forgery! She forged it to cover her tracks!"
But I wasn't looking at Vanessa. I was looking at the back of the note, where a second, smaller line of text was written.
P.S. it said. Do not trust the hospital contracts. They are bleeding the syndicate.
I froze. The hospital contracts.
The exact contracts Vanessa’s father had just negotiated for me last month.
I turned slowly to Vanessa.
"Where did you find this bracelet, Vanessa?" I asked quietly.
Vanessa swallowed hard. "I told you. I caught her stealing it."
Before she could lie again, the front door chimed, and my head of security, Rossi, walked in holding a small, muddy object in a plastic evidence bag.
"Boss," Rossi said grimly. "We just found this buried in the planters by the front gate."
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It was a broken syringe.
And wrapped around it was a piece of red fabric that perfectly matched the dress Vanessa was wearing.