Chapter 6 - THE POCKET WATCH
“No, no, no,” Sophia frantically tore the hem of her ruined wedding dress, pressing the silk firmly against the gunshot wound just below Adrian’s ribs. “You are not dying on our wedding night. Look at me, Adrian!”
Adrian’s head rested against the cold brick. He managed a weak, terrifyingly pale smile. “Technically, the reception hasn’t ended yet.”
Elena dropped to her knees beside them, her maternal instincts overriding her terror. “Keep the pressure tight,” she instructed, her hands covering Sophia’s. “I’m a nurse. I worked in the ER before Marcus took me. It missed his liver, but he’s losing blood fast.”
“You’re going to be okay,” Sophia said, tears hot on her face as she looked at her husband. The man who had silently watched over her for years. The man who was bleeding out in a sewer to protect her.
“Sophia,” Adrian breathed, gripping her wrist with surprising strength. “The watch.”
Her blood-stained fingers fumbled with the gold pocket watch he had given her. She pressed the latch.
The lid popped open.
There was no clock face inside. Instead, there was a small, folded piece of thick paper, and a tiny brass key.
Sophia unfolded the paper. It was a birth certificate.
Name: Leo Cross.
Adoptive Father: Adrian Cross.
Date of Adoption: Two years ago.
Sophia stared at it, confused. “Leo?”
Beside her, Elena let out a sound that wasn’t human—a sob pulled from the absolute depths of her soul. She snatched the paper from Sophia’s hand, staring at the name.
“Leo,” Elena wept, pressing the paper to her face. “My baby. My Leo.”
Sophia looked at Adrian in shock. “You adopted her son?”
Adrian coughed, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “When Marcus took Elena… he put her three-year-old son in the system to leverage her. I found him. I adopted him under a shell corporation. He’s safe. He’s at a boarding school in Switzerland.”
Elena threw her arms around Adrian’s neck, sobbing uncontrollably. “You saved him. You saved my boy.”
“The key,” Adrian whispered, looking at Sophia. “It opens a locker at Grand Central. There’s enough cash and passports for both of you. You take Elena. You run.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Sophia said fiercely.
Footsteps echoed down the tunnel. Slow. Deliberate.
“How touching,” a voice echoed in the dark.
Paul stepped into the dim light. His jaw was bruising heavily, but his gun was raised, aimed squarely at Sophia’s head.
“You’re a good girl, Sophia,” Paul said, his voice cracking with emotion. “But you are a liability to the peace of this city. As long as you breathe, Marcus will wage war.”
Sophia stood up slowly, stepping between the gun and Adrian.
“You taught me to ride a bike, Paul,” she said quietly. “You taught me how to make marinara. You read me bedtime stories when my father worked late.”
“I had to keep you close,” Paul said, a tear escaping his eye. “To make sure you didn’t remember who you were.”
“Then look me in the eye,” Sophia said, walking slowly toward the barrel of the gun. “Look the girl you raised in the eye, and pull the trigger.”
Paul’s hand shook violently. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Suddenly, a shadow dropped from the pipes above them.
The leather-clad motorcycle rider landed squarely on Paul’s shoulders, bringing the old man crashing to the ground.
The rider stood up in the dim light and pulled off his helmet.
May you like
Sophia gasped. It was a woman.
And she had Sophia’s exact same eyes.
