Chapter 4 - THE GOLD POCKET WATCH
Arthur Parker stood motionless in the dim light of the coat check hallway, staring at the heavy gold pocket watch resting in his calloused palm.
Grace had never seen the object before. It was stunningly ornate, the gold casing engraved with a crest she didn’t recognize—a sprawling oak tree flanked by two wolves.
It looked ancient. And incredibly expensive.
“Dad?” Grace stepped forward, her voice breaking the heavy silence.
Arthur’s head snapped up. He looked pale, his eyes wide and panicked. When he saw Matteo standing behind Grace, his grip tightened on the watch, his knuckles turning white.
“Grace,” Arthur swallowed hard, quickly shoving the watch into his own trouser pocket. He dropped Daniel’s gray cashmere coat onto the coat check counter as if it had burned him. “What are you doing out here? The speeches are about to start.”
“We could ask you the same thing, Mr. Parker,” Matteo said smoothly, stepping into the light.
Arthur bristled, his shoulders squaring. “I was just getting some fresh air. The ballroom is stifling.”
“It’s a long walk from the ballroom to Daniel’s coat pocket,” Matteo observed mildly.
Arthur’s jaw locked. He looked at Grace, his eyes filled with a desperate, pleading vulnerability that broke her heart. Her father was a proud man. A man who had worked the docks for thirty-four years and never took a dime he didn’t earn.
“Dad,” Grace said softly, moving closer to him. “What is going on? Why were you going through Daniel’s coat?”
Arthur looked away, rubbing his forehead. “It’s nothing, Gracie. Just business.”
“It’s not nothing,” she insisted. “Lily found a forged shipping manifest in Daniel’s car. It had your handwriting on it, clearing Terminal 4 for tonight. Daniel is setting you up.”
Arthur let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. He leaned against the coat counter, the fight draining out of him.
“He’s not setting me up, Grace,” Arthur whispered. “He’s holding a gun to my head.”
Grace froze. “What?”
Arthur reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out the gold pocket watch again. He held it out so she could see it clearly.
“Do you know what this is?” Arthur asked, his voice shaking.
Grace shook her head.
“It’s a Rossi family marker,” Matteo answered, his voice devoid of emotion, though his eyes were locked on the golden wolves. “A bribe token. They give them to port authorities, police captains, and terminal managers. If you accept the watch, you accept their money. You belong to them.”
Arthur nodded miserably. “Two weeks ago, Daniel came to my office. He told me the company was drowning in debt. He said he found a private buyer willing to inject cash, but they needed to move a few uninspected shipments through my terminal to seal the deal. He handed me this watch and a bag containing fifty thousand dollars.”
Grace felt the floor tilt beneath her. “You didn’t take it, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t take it!” Arthur hissed, deeply offended. “I threw the money back at him. I told him to get the hell out of my office before I called the police.”
“But you kept the watch,” Matteo noted.
“I kept it as proof,” Arthur said, glaring at Matteo. “I was going to take it to the CEO tomorrow. But yesterday, Daniel showed me a photograph.”
Arthur looked at Grace, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“A photograph of what?” Grace asked, dread pooling in her stomach.
“Of Lily,” Arthur whispered. “Walking home from school. Daniel said if I blew the whistle on his new partners, the Rossi family wouldn’t just come after me. They would come after his own stepdaughter. He said he couldn’t protect her.”
Grace covered her mouth. Daniel was using a six-year-old child to blackmail her father into silence.
“He forged the paperwork to open Terminal 4 tonight,” Arthur continued, swiping a hand across his tired face. “He needed my terminal access card to override the security gates. He told me to drop it in his coat pocket tonight during the party so he could hand it off to the Rossi drivers.”
“Did you give it to him?” Matteo asked sharply.
“No.” Arthur pulled a thick, white plastic keycard from his inner jacket pocket. “I came out here to do it. But I couldn’t. If I give him this card, I let poison into my city. I lose everything I stand for.”
Arthur looked at his daughter.
“I’m sorry, Gracie. I’m going to go back in there, punch that son of a bitch in the mouth, and then I’m calling the cops.”
“If you call the cops, Arthur, Lily dies,” Matteo said, his voice slicing through the emotion in the room like cold steel.
Arthur stopped. “I won’t let them—”
“You can’t stop them,” Matteo interrupted, stepping forward. He commanded the space entirely. “The police cannot protect you from the Rossi syndicate. Daniel has sold you out. If you walk back into that ballroom and make a scene, Rossi’s men will execute the child just to send a message.”
Arthur stared at him, terrified. “Then what do I do?”
Matteo held out his hand.
“Give me the terminal card.”
Arthur hesitated. “Who are you really, Mr. DeLuca?”
“I am the man who is going to buy Alden Freight,” Matteo said, his eyes hard and unyielding. “And I am the man who is going to make sure Daniel Parker never hurts your family again.”
Arthur looked at Grace.
She nodded once. “Trust him, Dad. Please.”
Slowly, Arthur handed the white plastic card to Matteo.
Matteo slipped it into his pocket. “Go back to the party, Arthur. Smile. Drink champagne. When it is time for your speech, talk about your legacy.”
Arthur swallowed hard, gave Grace one last terrified look, and walked back toward the ballroom.
Grace watched him go, her heart pounding against her ribs. She turned to Matteo.
“What are you going to do with the card?”
“I’m going to intercept the shipment,” Matteo said, pulling his phone from his pocket and typing a rapid message.
“No,” Grace said firmly.
Matteo paused, looking at her. “Grace, this isn’t a game.”
“I know it’s not.” She stepped closer to him, her chin held high. “Daniel ruined my life for three years. Now he is threatening a child and trying to destroy my father’s reputation. You are not leaving me here to drink champagne while you fix my family’s problems.”
Matteo stared at her. The fierce, unyielding fire in her eyes made something dangerous flicker in his chest.
“It will be dangerous,” he warned.
“I’ve worked for you for three years,” Grace replied. “I know what you do.”
A slow, terrifyingly beautiful smile touched the corner of Matteo’s mouth.
He offered his arm again.
But before Grace could take it, a cold, mocking voice echoed down the hallway.
“Well. Isn’t this touching.”
Grace spun around.
Standing at the end of the corridor, blocking the only exit to the lobby, was Chloe.
She wasn’t crying anymore. She wasn’t playing the embarrassed, victimized wife.
May you like
Her posture was rigid, perfectly balanced. And in her right hand, she was holding a suppressed matte-black pistol, aimed directly at Grace’s chest.
“Hand over the terminal card, DeLuca,” Chloe said, her voice dropping its soft, breathy pitch, revealing a cold, hardened edge. “My father is waiting for it.”
