THE SINS OF THE FATHERS

“We have to move,” Gabriel said, his voice entirely changed. The hesitation was gone. The prince was back, even if the crown was a lie.

I looked at Maria. I couldn’t leave her here. Richard knew her room number.

Gabriel signaled his driver, who had been waiting in the stairwell. “Move her to a private clinic in Jersey. Cash only. Use my personal accounts, not the family’s.”

I kissed Maria’s forehead. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

We bolted down the stairs and into the damp Manhattan air.

“Grand Central is huge,” I said as we slid into the back of a stolen sedan Gabriel had arranged. “There are hundreds of lockers. How do we know which one?”

Gabriel pounded the steering wheel. “We don’t. Only Salvatore had the locker number, and Angelo must have stolen the entry ticket.”

Answer One. That’s why Richard hadn’t claimed the Ledger yet. He knew where it was, but he needed the physical ticket to open the automated vault.

I stared down at my hands. I thought about Angelo. The years of carrying his groceries. The stories. The lessons in Sicilian.

“Always keep your faith close to your chest, Tessa,” Angelo used to tell me.

My hand flew to my neck.

I pulled out the simple, carved wooden rosary Angelo had given me for my sixteenth birthday. I had worn it under my shirt every day since he died.

“He told me never to take it off,” I whispered.

Gabriel glanced over.

I gripped the wooden crucifix. It felt unusually heavy. I pressed my thumbnail into a faint seam along the side of the cross.

It snapped open.

The cross was hollow.

Hidden perfectly inside the carved wood was a tiny, tightly rolled vintage train ticket. It was yellowed with age, stamped with a distinct locker number: Vault 404.

“You had it the whole time,” Gabriel breathed, hitting the accelerator. “He made you the guardian of the entire empire, and you didn’t even know it.”

Open Two. If I had the ticket, how did Richard plan to open the vault?

We arrived at Grand Central Terminal just after 4:00 a.m. The massive concourse was eerily empty, the celestial ceiling bathed in dim, amber light.

We moved quickly toward the subterranean locker banks.

Our footsteps echoed loudly on the marble floor.

“Vault 404,” Gabriel muttered, scanning the brass numbers.

“Over here,” I pointed down a narrow corridor of antique brass lockers.

But as we turned the corner, we stopped dead.

Standing in front of Vault 404 was Richard Mercer.

He wasn’t alone.

Five heavily armed men in dark suits stood behind him. These weren’t street thugs. These were Commission enforcers.

“Tessa,” Richard smiled, his teeth gleaming in the low light. “I figured you’d piece it together eventually. Angelo always did love a scavenger hunt.”

Gabriel raised his weapon, stepping in front of me.

“It’s over, Richard,” Gabriel said.

“Is it?” Richard laughed softly. He held up a small, powerful explosive charge, already wired directly to the brass door of Vault 404.

He didn’t need the ticket. He was just going to blow the door.

“I was hoping you’d bring me the ticket to save me the mess,” Richard said, his thumb hovering over the detonator. “But I don’t mind a little noise.”