Chapter 3 - THE SILVER KEY
Screams erupted throughout the ballroom.
Guests scrambled beneath tables, crystal champagne flutes shattering against the marble floor. The elegant facade of Daniel’s empire shattered in an instant, replaced by the brutal reality of the underworld he controlled.
The man in the gray trench coat didn't flinch at the chaos. Two more armed men stepped in behind him, their weapons raised.
Daniel lunged forward, pushing Emily behind his body. It was an instinctual move, one that momentarily confused her. He had just confessed to using her, yet he was shielding her from the gunmen.
“Marcus,” Daniel barked, his voice commanding despite the fear in his eyes. “You have no jurisdiction here. This is my house.”
The man named Marcus smiled—a thin, cruel line across a weathered face. “Your house? You’re just a tenant, Daniel. And your lease expired the moment the Board found out you couldn't control the Hayes girls.”
Marcus’s eyes flicked to Sarah, who was standing frozen by the marble column.
“Grab the sister,” Marcus ordered.
The three men in black suits who had been standing at the doors suddenly moved. But they didn't grab Sarah. In a stunning reversal, they drew their own weapons and aimed them directly at Marcus’s crew.
“Get down!” one of them yelled.
Gunfire erupted.
The silenced pfft-pfft of Marcus’s pistol was drowned out by the deafening roar of return fire.
Daniel grabbed Emily by the waist of her wedding dress and threw her to the ground behind a massive ice sculpture of two swans. The freezing water splashed against her bare shoulders.
“Stay down!” Daniel roared over the noise, pulling a small handgun from an ankle holster hidden beneath his tuxedo pants.
Emily was trembling uncontrollably, her fingers locked around the silver key from the necklace. “Daniel, what is happening?!”
“A coup,” Daniel said, his eyes scanning the room as bullets chewed through the ballroom’s floral arrangements. “Arthur Vance is making his move. He sent Marcus to kill you.”
“Why would someone want to kill me?” Emily sobbed, covering her ears.
“Because of that key in your hand,” Sarah’s voice rang out.
Emily gasped as Sarah slid across the slick marble floor, taking cover behind the ice sculpture next to them. The black dress was torn at the knee, but Sarah’s eyes were wild and determined.
“Sarah,” Daniel snarled, aiming his gun at her. “You brought them here.”
“I brought the truth!” Sarah fired back, ignoring the gun pointed at her face. She looked at Emily. “Arthur Vance was our father’s partner. When our dad wanted to go legitimate and leave the life behind, Arthur orchestrated the car crash. Daniel knew. He’s been Arthur’s puppet ever since.”
Daniel’s jaw clenched tight. He didn't deny it.
“Is it true?” Emily cried, staring at the man she had promised to love forever. “Did you know he murdered my father?”
Daniel looked at her, his eyes filled with a tortured, conflicting emotion. “Arthur took me out of the gutter when I was fifteen, Emily. He made me who I am. Yes, I knew. But marrying you was the only way I could keep Arthur from killing you when you turned twenty-five.”
Emily’s heart pounded. Today was her twenty-fifth birthday.
“The legal clause,” Sarah explained quickly as another volley of bullets shattered the ice swan above them. “If you were unmarried at twenty-five, your father’s shares reverted to Arthur. Daniel married you to keep the shares in his own control.”
“I married you to keep you alive!” Daniel shouted.
“Liar!” Sarah yelled back.
Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed Emily’s arm, hauling her up from behind the ice.
It was Marcus. He had flanked them in the chaos. He pressed the barrel of his gun against Emily’s temple.
“Drop it, Daniel,” Marcus ordered smoothly.
Daniel froze. Slowly, his fingers opened, and his gun clattered to the marble floor.
Marcus smirked. “Give me the key, Emily.”
Emily felt the cold metal of the gun against her skin. She looked down at the silver key in her palm. The numbers engraved on it—*402*—seemed to burn into her skin.
“Don't give it to him,” Sarah whispered, her eyes wide with panic. “If he gets it, he’ll kill us both.”
“Give her the key, or I paint this beautiful white dress red,” Marcus sneered.
Emily’s hand shook. She slowly reached out, offering the key to Marcus.
But as Marcus reached for it, Emily’s eyes locked onto an object sitting on the table beside them. A heavy, silver champagne bucket.
With a sudden, fierce surge of adrenaline, Emily threw the key onto the floor. As Marcus instinctively looked down, Emily grabbed the heavy silver bucket and smashed it across his face.
Marcus staggered backward, his gun firing blindly into the ceiling.
Daniel didn't hesitate. He tackled Marcus to the ground, his fist connecting with the man’s jaw with a sickening crunch.
“Run!” Daniel screamed at Emily and Sarah. “Get to the freight elevator!”
Sarah grabbed Emily’s hand.
Emily snatched the silver key off the floor, hiking up the heavy layers of her silk gown, and ran.
They sprinted through the kitchen doors, the screams of the guests fading behind them. They burst into the service hallway, slamming their hands against the call button of the freight elevator.
“Where does this key lead?” Emily gasped, struggling to catch her breath.
Sarah looked at her, a fierce, protective glint in her eyes. “It leads to the one place Arthur Vance could never find. Our father’s old hunting cabin by the lake.”
The elevator doors opened. They rushed inside.
Just as the doors began to close, a bloody, bruised hand thrust between them, forcing them back open.
Emily screamed, backing into the corner.
Daniel stumbled into the elevator, his tuxedo torn, blood dripping from a cut above his eye. He hit the basement button and slumped against the metal wall, breathing heavily.
Sarah glared at him, stepping between Daniel and Emily.
“You have a lot of nerve following us,” Sarah spat.
Daniel looked up, wiping the blood from his mouth. He reached into his torn jacket and pulled out a heavy, tarnished pocket watch.
He tossed it to Emily.
“You need me,” Daniel said, his voice ragged.
Emily caught the watch. Her hands trembled as she pressed the latch. The watch popped open.
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Inside was a faded photograph of a baby. Emily recognized herself. But she wasn't being held by her father. She was being held by a smiling man with a jagged scar on his hand.
“That’s Arthur,” Daniel breathed. “And he’s not just your father’s partner, Emily. He’s your mother.”
