Chapter 11 - THE UNDERBOSS AND THE TRAIN STATION
The library plunged into a terrifying silence.
Julian’s gun was aimed squarely at my heart. Adrian stared at his cousin, then looked at me, the warmth in his eyes rapidly cooling into suspicion.
“Julian, lower the weapon,” Adrian commanded, though he didn’t step between us. “What are you talking about?”
“Carlo confessed,” Julian repeated, keeping his eyes dead on me. “Arthur Miller wasn’t a victim last night. He was Dominic’s inside man. He used his daughter’s access to feed them the camera codes. He stole the signet ring to pawn it for his debts.”
“That’s a lie!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “My dad fought Carlo off! He saved my life!”
“He fought him off because a deal went bad,” Julian sneered. “Search her, Adrian. I bet she’s carrying stolen property right now.”
My blood froze. The silver pocket watch. It was in my apron. If Adrian found the watch with the assassination ledger inside, it wouldn’t just frame my dad for treason—it would prove he killed Adrian’s father.
Adrian took a step toward me.
“Grace,” he said quietly. “Empty your pockets.”
I looked at Adrian. The man who had trusted me. The man who had saved my life.
If I showed him the watch, my father was a dead man.
I made a split-second decision. I grabbed the heavy brass lamp off the desk and hurled it directly at Julian’s face.
The heavy base struck Julian in the shoulder. He staggered backward, his gun firing a wild shot into the ceiling.
Before Adrian could react, I turned and sprinted out of the library doors.
“Grace, stop!” Adrian bellowed.
I didn’t stop. I ran through the kitchen, out the service doors, and into the woods behind the estate. I knew the security blind spots better than anyone. I scrambled over the stone wall and ran until my lungs burned.
I flagged down a taxi on the highway and gave the driver my address.
When I burst through the front door of my house, the living room was empty.
“Dad!” I screamed.
The house was completely cleaned out. His bags were gone. But on the kitchen counter sat a single piece of paper and a train ticket stub to Boston.
“Grace. If you are reading this, Julian made his move. Meet me at Union Station. Trust no one.”
I ran out the door and told the taxi to floor it to the train station.
The grand concourse of Union Station was packed with commuters. I wove through the crowd, frantically searching for my father’s familiar limp.
I found him sitting on a bench near Platform 4, holding a duffel bag and his broken cane.
I ran to him, tears streaming down my face. “Dad! What did you do? Julian says you’re the mole! He says you stole the signet ring!”
My father looked at me, his face lined with an exhausting sadness. He reached into his coat and pulled out the black velvet box.
He opened it. Inside wasn’t a ring.
It was a small, encrypted hard drive.
“I didn’t steal jewelry, Gracie,” my father rasped. “I took this. Because this drive contains the raw audio recordings from the Rossi syndicate for the last ten years.”
I stared at him, pulling the silver pocket watch from my pocket. “And this? The ledger? It says you killed Lorenzo Bellucci!”
My father looked at the watch, a bitter smile touching his lips. “I was a Rossi enforcer twenty-six years ago, Grace. Dominic’s father ordered me to cut Lorenzo’s brakes.”
My heart shattered. “So you did it? You killed him?”
“No,” my father said fiercely, gripping my hands. “I refused. I walked away from the mob that night. I went into construction to raise you clean. But the man who did cut the brakes kept that ledger to frame me if the truth ever came out.”
“Who?” I begged. “Who cut the brakes?”
“The man who ordered it wasn't a Rossi,” my father said. “It was Lorenzo’s own brother. Carmine Bellucci. Julian’s father.”
The reversal hit me like a physical blow. Julian wasn’t protecting Adrian. Julian was framing my father to cover up the fact that his own family had murdered Adrian’s dad to steal the empire.
“Julian sent Carlo to our house to kill me before I could give Adrian this hard drive,” my dad explained. “When you brought Adrian to the house, Carlo panicked and pretended to be a hostage.”
“We have to give this to Adrian,” I said, grabbing the velvet box.
But a cold metal barrel pressed against the back of my neck.
“You aren’t giving him anything,” Julian’s voice whispered in my ear.
May you like
I froze. Julian stepped around the bench, holding his gun under his coat, aiming it at my father’s chest.
“Hand over the drive, old man,” Julian smiled. “Or I shoot her right here.”
