Chapter 6 - THE GHOST IN THE SYSTEM
The silence in the apartment was deafening. The only sound was the distant wail of a police siren, bleeding through the cracked window.
"Dead?" I whispered, my mind struggling to process the impossible timeline. "Salvatore, that's impossible. I served her. Three years ago. She was sitting in the corner booth with Vance. They were arguing. She was wearing that exact necklace."
Salvatore stared at the drawing, his thumb tracing the charcoal lines of the crescent moon necklace.
"Elena died in a car accident five years ago," he said, his voice hollow, completely stripped of its usual commanding resonance. "Her car went off the bridge on Lake Shore Drive. The police report said she was intoxicated. But she never drank. Ever."
He looked up at me, his dark eyes burning with a mixture of profound grief and sudden, violent hope.
"Are you absolutely certain it was her, Tessa? Think. Memories can play tricks."
"I don't forget the people who treat me like dirt," I replied, the memory sharpening into crystal-clear focus. "She dropped her napkin, and when I bent to pick it up, she snapped at me. She called me a clumsy idiot. I remember the necklace because it hit the table when she leaned forward to yell."
Salvatore exhaled a shaky breath, closing his eyes.
"That sounds exactly like Elena," he murmured.
"But how did Leo draw her?" I asked, looking toward the hallway, a new wave of panic rising. "Leo has never been to the restaurant. He was just a toddler when she supposedly died."
Marcus, the silver-haired security chief, stepped back into the room. He took one look at Salvatore’s face and immediately stiffened.
"Boss?" Marcus asked cautiously.
"Vance didn't just kill her," Salvatore said, ignoring Marcus, his eyes fixed on me. "He faked it. He faked her death to take control of her shares in the holding company. And he used you to hide her."
"Used me?" I recoiled. "How could he use me to hide a person?"
"The ledger," Salvatore said, his voice dropping into a rapid, clinical cadence as his brilliant, ruthless mind reassembled the puzzle. "The quarter-million dollars funneled through your name. I thought it was just real estate fraud. But it wasn't. He didn't just forge your signature for the building."
Salvatore stepped closer, his presence overwhelming the small room.
"Tessa, Vance didn't put Leo in a hospital because of a random mold violation. He targeted your family."
"Why?" I cried, my voice breaking.
"Because your mother's maiden name was Eleanor Vance," Salvatore said quietly. "Richard Vance is your uncle."
The floor seemed to drop out from under me.
"No," I stammered, stumbling back until I hit the wall. "No, my mother was an orphan. She didn't have family. We grew up with nothing."
"Your mother was disowned," Salvatore corrected gently. "She fell in love with a mechanic, your father. Richard’s father cut her out of the will. But legally, she was still a blood heir to the Vance trust. And when she died, that claim passed to you."
He gestured to the drawing.
"Elena found out. She found out Richard was stealing from the trust, cutting out the rightful heirs. She confronted him. That's why he staged her death. He locked her away, completely off the grid."
"But where does Leo fit in?" I sobbed, the revelation crashing over me like a tidal wave. "Why take an eight-year-old boy?"
"Because Leo has a photographic memory," a new voice said.
We all spun toward the doorway.
Standing in the splintered frame, breathing heavily, was Brett.
My former manager looked like a ghost. His expensive suit was torn at the shoulder, his tie was gone, and there was a frantic, wild look in his eyes. He held his hands up in surrender as Marcus instantly drew a suppressed pistol, aiming it directly at Brett’s chest.
"Wait! Don't shoot!" Brett shrieked, dropping to his knees. "I came to help! I know where the kid is!"
"Give me one reason not to put a bullet in your knee right now," Salvatore said, his voice deadly quiet.
"Because I'm the one who drove Elena to the facility!" Brett cried, staring down the barrel of Marcus's gun. "Three years ago! Vance made me do it. I swear to God, Marquetti, I didn't know what it was at first. I was just the driver!"
"What facility?" Salvatore demanded, stepping forward, his shadow falling over Brett.
"An old psychiatric ward in the suburbs. Privately owned by Vance’s shell company," Brett stammered, trembling violently. "He keeps her there. Heavily medicated. And... and he brought the boy there two days ago."
"Two days ago?" I gasped. "No, Leo was at school!"
"He took him for three hours," Brett said, looking at me with pathetic, tear-filled eyes. "He wanted to test the boy's memory. Vance knows you're the true heir, Tessa. He needed leverage. He put the boy in the room next to Elena. The boy saw her through the observation glass. That's why he drew the picture."
Brett swallowed hard.
"Vance is terrified of you, Marquetti. But he's more terrified of the kid's memory. The kid can draw the faces of the guards. He can draw the layout of the facility."
"Where is my brother right now?" I demanded, stepping past Salvatore, my fists clenched.
Brett reached into his torn jacket pocket. Marcus's gun clicked menacingly.
Brett moved very slowly, pulling out a small, metallic object. He set it on the floor.
It was a heavy steel master key.
"He's at the facility," Brett whispered. "Vance is moving them both tonight. A private jet out of O'Hare. If you don't get there before midnight, Elena and the boy will disappear forever."
Salvatore looked at the key, then up at Brett.
"Why are you telling me this?" Salvatore asked, his eyes narrowing. "You're Vance's loyal dog."
Brett let out a bitter, hysterical laugh.
He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, pulling it aside.
May you like
Strapped to his chest, taped directly to his skin, was a blinking, digital explosive device.
"Because," Brett wept, his entire body shaking, "Vance decided I knew too much. He told me to walk into your warehouse and detonate this, or he would kill my daughter. I’m a dead man either way. Please... just save my little girl."
