Chapter 2 - THE COUNTDOWN
Evelyn ignored Gilbert’s panicked hiss. She kept her eyes glued to the polished marble floor, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. 8:52 p.m. Three minutes. She approached Table Four from the left, carrying a fresh bottle of San Pellegrino. Celeste was still smiling, a perfect, porcelain mask, her manicured fingers resting casually near her glowing phone. Lorenzo sat perfectly still, his dark eyes surveying the room with the casual arrogance of a king.
Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She reached across to refill his water glass, intentionally fumbling the linen napkin draped over her forearm. It dropped directly onto Lorenzo’s lap. As she leaned in, murmuring a rapid apology, she pressed the cocktail napkin flat against the edge of his dessert plate, right under his line of sight.
Lorenzo’s hand moved with lightning speed, catching her wrist under the table. His grip was iron. He didn't look at her; he looked down at the napkin. Your fiancée set a trap. Don't use north exit.
For a microsecond, the temperature at the table dropped twenty degrees. Lorenzo released her wrist. He didn't gasp. He didn't look at Celeste. He simply reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill, and dropped it on Evelyn’s tray.
"Get out of the building," Lorenzo murmured, his voice so low only she could hear it. "Through the kitchen."
Evelyn didn't need to be told twice. She turned on her heel and walked away, fighting the urge to run. Behind her, Lorenzo stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Celeste, my love," he said loudly, his voice echoing over the quiet hum of the restaurant. "We're leaving. Now."
Celeste’s perfect smile faltered. "Lorenzo, what's wrong? The main course—"
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"Now."
It was 8:54 p.m. Evelyn hit the swinging kitchen doors just as the first pane of the Obsidian’s floor-to-ceiling glass shattered.
