Chapter 3 - THE TICKET TO NOWHERE
The nursery suddenly felt devoid of air.
I stared at the ink on the back of the photograph. David didn't die of a heart attack.
My knees gave out. I hit the carpet hard, the picture slipping from my fingers. Sophia immediately wrapped her arms around my neck, sensing my distress, while little Eli just stared at his father.
Nathaniel picked up the photo. He read the back, his jaw tightening into a hard, unforgiving line.
For three years, I had believed the hospital’s story. David was thirty-two. Healthy. He had gone to work at the estate one evening and never came home. The coroner said it was an undetected congenital defect. Massive cardiac arrest.
I had buried him when I was six months pregnant with Sophia.
“They lied to me,” I whispered, the realization a physical pain in my chest. “The doctors. The coroner. They all lied.”
Nathaniel looked at me, and for a brief second, the Mafia boss vanished. He just looked like a man who understood exactly what it felt like to have your world ripped apart by a lie.
“If David was murdered,” Nathaniel said slowly, his mind connecting the brutal dots, “then he wasn't just a driver. He knew something.”
“He drove Evelyn,” I said, looking up, the tears blurring my vision. “Whenever you were out of town, David was assigned to your wife. He drove her to her charity events. To the city.”
Nathaniel’s eyes darkened. “And to whoever she was meeting in secret.”
He looked down at the small brass key in his palm, then at the rosary, and finally at the photograph. The pieces of the puzzle were jagged and stained with blood.
“The deposit box,” I said, wiping my eyes and standing up. I needed to be strong. For Sophia. For David’s memory. “The key Evelyn hid. It has to lead to the proof she mentioned on the tape. The proof of who is stealing from the family. The proof of who killed them both.”
Nathaniel examined the tiny key.
“It’s a private vault key,” he said. “First National Bank downtown. I have accounts there. But we can't just walk in. If there is a traitor in my inner circle, they will have eyes on me.”
Before I could reply, a heavy footstep sounded in the hallway.
We both froze.
The nursery door swung open, and Marcus Reed walked in.
Marcus was Nathaniel’s older brother and his Consigliere. He was leaner than Nathaniel, dressed in a sharp, three-piece gray suit. His eyes were calculating, always scanning a room for weaknesses.
Marcus stopped when he saw the mess of toys on the floor, Nathaniel holding the photograph, and me holding my daughter, looking terrified.
“Nathaniel,” Marcus said smoothly, his eyes dropping to the brass key in his brother’s hand. “Mrs. Gable said you came up here in a panic. Everything alright?”
Nathaniel’s expression went completely blank. The shift was terrifying to witness. The vulnerable widower vanished, replaced instantly by the ruthless boss of the Reed family.
“Everything is fine, Marcus,” Nathaniel lied effortlessly. He slipped the key and the photograph into his suit pocket. “Eli was just looking for an old toy.”
Marcus didn't buy it. His gaze shifted to the hollow, broken silver rosary resting on the edge of the toy box.
I saw Marcus’s pupils dilate. Just a fraction. A microscopic reaction, but I saw it.
He recognized the rosary.
“I see,” Marcus said, taking a slow step into the room. “Clara, why don't you take the children down to the kitchen? Get them some ice cream. My brother and I need to discuss business.”
I looked at Nathaniel.
Nathaniel gave me a barely perceptible nod. Go.
I grabbed Eli’s hand, holding Sophia in my other arm, and hurried past Marcus. As I passed him, I smelled his expensive cologne—sandalwood and smoke.
I practically ran down the grand staircase, my heart pounding in my ears. I didn't go to the kitchen. I went straight to the security room in the west wing. It was empty during the day shift change.
I locked the door, set the kids on the leather couch, and pulled up the nursery camera on the monitors.
There was no audio, but the visual was enough.
Marcus and Nathaniel were standing toe-to-toe. The tension radiating from the screen was palpable. Marcus was pointing at the toy box, his face flushed with sudden anger. Nathaniel stood his ground, a mountain of quiet menace.
Then, Marcus did something unthinkable.
He reached inside his suit jacket.
My breath caught. I pressed my hand against the monitor.
Marcus pulled out a handgun. He didn't point it at Nathaniel, but he held it at his side, a clear, unmistakable threat.
On the screen, Nathaniel didn't flinch. He slowly reached into his own pocket and pulled out the brass key, holding it up between them.
Marcus spoke, his mouth moving rapidly. Nathaniel shook his head.
Suddenly, Nathaniel moved. He was shockingly fast. He grabbed Marcus’s wrist, twisting the gun away, and shoved his brother hard against the wall.
The gun clattered to the floor.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
But then I saw it.
When Marcus hit the wall, his suit jacket flew open. Something slipped from his inner pocket and fell onto the plush carpet.
Nathaniel didn't see it. He was too focused on holding his brother by the throat.
But I saw it clearly on the high-definition monitor.
It was a crumpled, faded piece of paper. A ticket.
Nathaniel finally released Marcus, picking up the gun and kicking his brother out of the room. Marcus stumbled out, enraged.
When Nathaniel was alone, he turned and saw the paper on the floor. He picked it up. He unfolded it.
On the monitor, I watched the blood drain from Nathaniel’s face. He looked physically ill.
I couldn't stand it anymore. I told the kids to stay put, unlocked the door, and ran back upstairs.
When I burst into the nursery, Nathaniel was sitting on the edge of the rocking chair, staring at the paper.
“What is it?” I asked, breathless.
He slowly handed it to me.
It was a boarding pass. First class. For a private yacht charter out of the city marina.
The departure date was exactly two years ago. The exact night Evelyn died.
But it wasn't the date that made my stomach turn. It was the names printed on the passenger manifest.
There were two tickets.
May you like
One for Marcus Reed.
And one for Evelyn Reed.
