Chapter 4 - THE WATCH
The Providence train station was a cavernous, echoing building that smelled of old diesel and stale pretzels.
Emily pushed Santino’s wheelchair through the crowd. Two of Santino’s security men walked ten paces behind, keeping a discreet but lethal perimeter.
“The locker area is down this hall,” Santino directed, his voice tight.
They reached a row of dusty, dented metal lockers. Emily looked at the damp, wrinkled ticket in her hand. Locker 402.
She found the locker near the bottom. Her hands trembled as she inserted the old-fashioned key attached to the ticket. The lock resisted for a moment, rusted from years of disuse, before turning with a harsh click.
She pulled the door open.
Inside sat a single, small leather journal.
Emily reached for it, but Santino caught her wrist. His grip was shockingly strong.
“If you are not who you say you are, Miss Taylor,” he said quietly, “and you know something about my fiancée’s death… I will not be as forgiving as the water was yesterday.”
“I just want the truth,” Emily whispered, looking into his dark, pained eyes. “Just like you.”
He slowly released her wrist.
Emily pulled the journal out and opened it. The pages were filled with Maya’s familiar, elegant handwriting. But it wasn't a diary. It was a ledger. Dates, times, massive sums of money, and shipping container numbers.
“What is it?” Santino demanded.
Emily scanned the last entry. It was dated the day Maya died.
Victoria found out. She knows I have the ledgers proving she’s smuggling narcotics through Santino’s ports. She threatened the baby. I have to leave tonight.
Emily stopped breathing. The baby. Leo.
“Read it to me,” Santino commanded.
Emily quickly snapped the journal shut. “It’s… it’s just shipping records. It doesn't make sense.”
Santino stared at her, seeing right through the lie. Before he could speak, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his jaw locked.
“We are leaving. Now,” he said.
They rushed back to the estate. The tension in the car was suffocating. When they arrived, Enzo met them at the door.
“Miss Victoria wishes to see you in the West Parlor, sir,” Enzo said to Santino. He then glanced at Emily. “Miss Taylor, you have a package on your desk.”
Santino wheeled himself toward the parlor, leaving Emily alone in the hallway.
She hurried to her small office adjoining Santino’s study. Her heart was pounding. She needed to hide the journal. She needed to protect Leo. Maya had died trying to protect him from Victoria, and now Emily had walked right into the lion’s den.
She reached her desk. Sitting in the center of the pristine leather blotter was a small, plain white box.
Emily hesitated. She carefully lifted the lid.
Inside rested a silver rosary.
The exact same rosary Maya had been wearing in the photograph. The one she was wearing the night she was killed.
A piece of heavy cardstock was tucked beneath it. Emily pulled it out.
Leave the house today, or the boy joins his mother.
Emily gasped, dropping the card.
Someone knew about Leo. Someone knew who she was.
Suddenly, the door to her office clicked shut.
Emily spun around. Victoria Ferrara stood there, dressed in immaculate white, a serene, terrifying smile on her face.
“It’s a beautiful piece of jewelry, isn't it?” Victoria asked softly.
“You,” Emily breathed, backing away. “You killed her.”
Victoria’s smile vanished. She looked suddenly exhausted, older than her forty years. “I didn't kill Maya, Emily. I tried to save her.”
Emily froze. “What?”
“I knew who you were the moment you walked through those gates three years ago,” Victoria said, stepping closer. “You think you’re so clever. But you don't understand what you’ve awakened. I didn't send that rosary to threaten you. I sent it to warn you.”
May you like
Victoria gripped Emily’s shoulders, her perfectly manicured nails digging into Emily’s skin.
“Rafe Lombardi is not loyal to my brother,” Victoria whispered frantically. “He drove the car that hit your sister. And right now, he is on his way to your apartment to find your nephew.”
