Chapter 5 - THE TICKET IN THE COAT
Dominic rammed the door again.
The wood splintered.
I pulled Ethan behind the massive oak bookcase in the corner of the library.
“Shh,” I breathed into his hair. “Not a sound.”
My hands were shaking as I reached out and pulled the beige trench coat into our hiding spot.
My agency driver’s coat.
Why was it here?
Drivers weren’t allowed inside the main estate during private events. They waited at the gatehouse.
Dominic slammed into the door a third time.
The lock gave way with a violent snap.
He stepped into the library.
“Claire,” he sing-songed, his footsteps slow and deliberate on the hardwood floor. “I’m going to make this very simple. Hand over the boy, and you walk out the front door. You have my word.”
I didn’t move.
I searched the pockets of the trench coat.
My fingers brushed against something stiff.
Paper.
I pulled it out, straining to read it in the sliver of moonlight filtering through the blinds.
It was a plane ticket.
One-way. First class.
JFK to Buenos Aires.
Departing tonight at 2:00 AM.
But it wasn’t just one ticket.
It was a receipt for three.
Passenger 1: Dominic DeLuca.
Passenger 2: Ethan DeLuca.
Passenger 3: Claire Stevens.
My breath caught in my throat.
My name.
I flipped the ticket over.
Attached to the back was a sleek, dark blue passport.
I opened it.
My photo stared back at me.
But the name printed next to it was Claire DeLuca.
“You see,” Dominic’s voice drifted closer to the bookcase. “You were never just a nanny, Claire. You were an alibi.”
He stopped walking.
He was right on the other side of the books.
“A beautiful, tragic story,” Dominic murmured. “Nicholas’s unstable new nanny kidnaps his son and flees the country. I try to stop you, but sadly, you both perish in a tragic accident in South America. And I return home, a grieving brother, to take over the family business.”
He tapped on the wood of the bookcase.
Right next to my head.
“Vivienne planted the microphones to frame you for spying. The agency provided your fake background. You were dead the moment you walked into this house eleven months ago.”
He suddenly shoved the bookcase.
The heavy mahogany unit tilted wildly.
Books cascaded down on us.
Ethan screamed.
Dominic reached over the falling shelves and grabbed my arm, yanking me upward.
“Time to go to the airport, Claire.”
I kicked out, hitting his knee.
He grunted and slapped me across the face.
I fell backward, tasting blood.
He reached for Ethan.
Suddenly, the library doors flew open.
The overhead lights blazed to life.
May you like
Nicholas stood in the doorway.
And he was holding a gun.
