Chapter 3 - THE WATCH THAT STOPPED TIME
Arthur’s face turned an ugly shade of crimson.
“The man is lying!” Arthur shouted, pointing a trembling finger at Thomas. “He’s a con artist trying to extort us!”
Vincent didn't look at Arthur. He kept his eyes on the dented gold pocket watch resting beside the empty plate and the slice of homemade apple pie.
Slowly, Vincent picked it up.
He pressed the latch. The cover popped open.
“The glass is cracked,” Vincent whispered. “It cracked the day my father fell from his horse.”
“Look inside the cover, Vincent,” Thomas said softly.
Vincent tilted the watch toward the chandelier. His breath hitched.
I strained to see from my place by the wall. I knew what it felt like to hold onto a dead parent’s belongings. After my dad died, I kept his old leather wallet in my apron pocket every day. It grounded me. But this watch seemed to be tearing Vincent apart.
“It says... To my partner, Arthur. Until the end of time.” Vincent read the engraving aloud.
The dining room erupted into frantic murmurs.
Vincent looked up. “My father gave this to you, Arthur.”
Arthur swallowed hard. “He did. Many years ago. I lost it.”
“You didn’t lose it,” Thomas said, his voice rising above the whispers. “You gave it to the man you hired to take me. As a down payment.”
Bianca slammed her hands on the table. “Stop it! Vincent, you can’t listen to this! He’s trying to frame my father to steal your inheritance!”
“Why would he do that?” Rose asked, her voice shaking but suddenly filled with a fierce, protective strength. She stood up, leaning heavily on the table. “Nico never cared about money. He only cared about his little brother.”
Thomas looked at Rose, and for a fleeting second, the coldness in his eyes melted. “I remember you singing to me, ma'am. La Vie En Rose.”
Rose let out a sharp cry and covered her mouth.
Vincent walked slowly toward Arthur. The bodyguards in the room shifted, preparing for violence.
“Arthur,” Vincent said calmly. “Did you take my brother?”
Arthur puffed out his chest. “I built this syndicate with your father! I made him! And he was going to hand it all over to a weak ten-year-old boy instead of merging with my empire!”
The confession hung in the air like smoke.
Bianca burst into tears. “Daddy, no!”
“I was protecting our legacy!” Arthur roared.
Vincent closed his eyes. When he opened them, the sorrow was gone, replaced by the ruthless mafia boss New York feared.
“Get them out of my house,” Vincent said quietly to his guards.
“Vincent, please! I didn't know the whole truth!” Bianca sobbed, reaching for him.
Vincent stepped aside. “The engagement is off. If I see either of you in my city again, you won't leave it.”
As the guards dragged a screaming Bianca and a cursing Arthur out of the dining room, the remaining guests sat in terrified silence.
Vincent turned to Thomas. The two brothers stared at each other across thirty-seven years of stolen time.
“Nico,” Vincent said, his voice breaking.
Thomas shook his head, his expression hardening again.
“I didn't come here for a reunion, Vincent.”
Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, child’s drawing. It was faded and torn.
He placed it next to the watch.
“I came here because of this.”
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Vincent looked at the drawing. “That... that’s my son’s drawing. Leo drew that yesterday.”
Thomas nodded grimly. “I know. Because I found it in the pocket of the man who is supposed to kill your son tonight.”
