Chapter 4 - The Empty Drawing Box
“Grace. Your father is in Room 412 at St. Jude’s Hospital. My men are standing outside his door. Bring me the box, or I’ll have them turn off his life support.”
The tablet screen flickered, but Elena’s cold, dead eyes remained fixed on mine. My lungs tightened so violently I forgot how to breathe. She had my father. The only family I had left in the world.
I looked down at Isabella. The little girl was watching my face, her brown eyes wide with confusion. She couldn’t hear the threat, but she could see my terror.
I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t try to play hero. I grabbed the tablet, scooped up Isabella in my free arm, and ran to the locked bedroom door. I unlocked it, threw it open, and practically collided with Adriano in the hallway.
He caught my shoulders, steadying me. “Grace? I told you to stay locked inside.”
I shoved the tablet into his chest. “She has my father, Mr. Falcone. She has men at St. Jude’s Hospital. Room 412. She wants Isabella’s drawing box.”
Adriano looked at the screen. Elena’s smile faded the second she saw her husband’s face.
“You’re a coward, Elena,” Adriano sneered, his voice a low, lethal rumble. Without breaking eye contact with the screen, he pulled out his phone and dialed. “St. Jude’s Hospital. Room 412. Neutralize the threat. Now.”
Elena’s expression hardened. “You can’t save everyone, Adriano.”
The screen went black. The call disconnected.
I slumped against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor, pulling Isabella into my lap. Adriano immediately knelt beside me. “My men are already at the hospital, Grace. They were dispatched the moment we found Bianca’s phone. I anticipated she would target your family to control you. Your father is safe.”
A ragged sob tore from my throat. “Thank you.”
Adriano nodded sharply, then looked at Isabella. He signed quickly. “Where is your drawing box, Bella?”
Isabella pointed to her closet. Adriano walked over, pushed aside her dresses, and pulled out a heavy, intricately carved wooden box. He brought it to the bed and popped the brass latch.
He opened the lid.
It was completely empty.
“Where are the drawings?” Adriano asked, signing with one hand.
Isabella signed back, looking confused. “I put them in the trash. Mommy said the box was magic and had to be empty.”
Adriano ran his fingers along the inside of the wooden box. He pressed against the velvet lining at the bottom. There was a hollow click. The false bottom popped up, revealing a hidden compartment.
Inside the compartment was a small, velvet pouch. But it was torn open and empty.
“Damn it,” Adriano cursed, slamming the box shut. “She already took it.”
“Took what?” I asked, standing up.
“A ledger,” Adriano said softly. “Four years ago, Elena didn’t just die. She faked her death to defect to the Rossi family, our biggest rivals. She stole a microchip containing all my offshore accounts and legitimate business contacts. I thought it was destroyed in the car crash.”
I stared at him. “She hid it in her own daughter’s room? And left her behind?”
“She didn’t care about Isabella,” Adriano said, his voice breaking for the first time. “She only cared about leverage. But the biometric lock on the garage vault was changed after she died. She couldn’t get back in to retrieve the chip. She needed Isabella’s fingerprints to access the property.”
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Suddenly, the lights in the mansion flickered and died. We were plunged into total darkness.
From downstairs, the sound of shattered glass echoed through the silent house. The Rossis weren’t waiting at the gates anymore.
