Chapter 8 - THE TICKING WATCH
I stared at the ticking silver watch in the palm of my hand.
The metal was cold, but the gears inside hummed with precise, rhythmic life.
Well done, Gabriel. Meet me at Midnight.
My heart, which had just finally settled, began to pound a frantic new rhythm against my ribs. The engraving was fresh. The metal shavings were still clinging to the letters.
I ran downstairs, my wet shoes slipping on the marble steps.
Gabriel was in the study, pouring two glasses of amber liquid—one for himself, and one for Margaret, who was resting on a plush velvet sofa near the fire.
“Gabriel,” I breathed, bursting into the room.
He turned, instantly alert. “Claire? What’s wrong?”
I walked over and placed the silver pocket watch on his mahogany desk.
Gabriel’s eyes locked onto the watch. The color drained from his face.
He didn't touch it immediately. He stared at it as if it were a venomous snake.
“Where did you find this?” he asked, his voice hollow.
“Under the bed in the guest room where Victoria was staying. Who does it belong to?”
Margaret leaned forward, her tired eyes widening as she recognized the silver casing.
“Oh, merciful heaven,” she whispered, crossing herself. “That’s his father’s watch.”
I looked back and forth between them. “Gabriel, your father has been dead for five years.”
“So I was told,” Gabriel murmured.
He slowly picked up the watch and snapped it open. He read the inscription. His jaw locked so tight I thought his teeth might shatter.
“He’s alive,” Gabriel said, staring at the ticking hands. “My father is alive. And he’s been watching this entire thing unfold.”
“But why?” I asked. “Why would he let Arthur Hale get this close to you? Why let Victoria almost marry you?”
Gabriel threw his glass against the stone fireplace. It shattered into a hundred sparkling pieces.
“Because it was a test!” Gabriel roared, slamming his fists onto the desk. “He always thought I was too weak to lead the family! He knew Arthur Hale killed my mother, but he let Arthur live just so he could use him as a pawn to test me!”
Margaret stood up, her frail hands shaking. “Antonio never cared about family, Gabriel. He only cared about power. He used your mother’s death as a game.”
I felt sick to my stomach. Gabriel had just dismantled a mafia empire to protect the people he loved, only to find out his own father had orchestrated his suffering.
“It’s almost midnight,” I said, looking at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Gabriel, you can’t go. It’s a trap.”
Gabriel turned to me, his dark eyes swirling with a storm of grief and rage.
“If I don’t go, Claire, he will never stop playing games. He will come for Margaret. He will come for you.”
He grabbed his long black overcoat.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
Suddenly, a loud, heavy knock echoed through the quiet mansion.
It wasn't coming from the front gates.
It was coming from the massive oak front doors.
Someone had bypassed the entire security system.
Gabriel drew his weapon, motioning for me to stay behind the desk with Margaret. He moved silently into the grand hallway and pulled the heavy door open.
There was no one there.
Just the pouring rain, and the distant sound of a vintage car engine fading down the driveway.
But sitting on the welcome mat was a heavy brass object.
Gabriel bent down and picked it up.
He brought it inside and set it on the foyer table.
It was an antique, gold-plated cigarette lighter. The Vescari family crest was stamped into the metal.
“His lighter,” Gabriel whispered.
He flipped the top open.
There was no flame. Instead, stuffed tightly inside the casing, was a folded piece of heavy cardstock.
May you like
Gabriel pulled it out and unfolded it.
It was a first-class ticket for the midnight train leaving Union Station.
