Chapter 3 - THE BLOODSTAIN AND THE FORGED PASSPORT
“Lock the estate doors,” Adrian commanded into his phone. “Nobody leaves. Not the guests, not the staff.”
Sloane gasped, staring at the blood on the chair. She brought a trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh my god. She... she must have hurt herself in a rage.”
“That isn’t a papercut, Sloane,” Adrian said dangerously. “That’s a hemorrhage.”
I felt physically sick. The blood was fresh, still warm. Someone had hurt Francesca in this room, covered the stain with a cushion, draped her coat over it, and smuggled her out. And they used my passcode to hide their tracks.
Marcus, the towering head of security, rushed into the room, his gun drawn.
“The gates are sealed, Boss,” Marcus said. “But we have a problem. A catering van broke through the rear delivery exit about five minutes ago. It smashed right through the wooden barrier.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched. “Did Mrs. Keene authorize that van?”
I remembered the catering schedule I had reviewed that morning.
“Mr. Bellucci,” I said quietly. “There were only supposed to be two vans tonight. Both are still parked by the kitchen. I saw them through the pantry window.”
Adrian turned his furious gaze onto his fiancée. “Where did the third van come from, Sloane?”
Sloane backed away toward the door. “I don’t know! Why are you looking at me like that? I’m going to be your wife!”
“You’re a liar,” Adrian said, his voice dropping to a terrifying calm. “You lied about your mother. You lied about my sister. And now there is blood in my house.”
He looked at Marcus. “Search her suite.”
“You can’t do that!” Sloane screamed, dropping her elegant facade. “This is a violation of my privacy!”
“You have no privacy here anymore,” Adrian replied.
We walked down the hall to the master wing. Sloane was hyperventilating, crying out that Adrian was ruining their lives over a misunderstanding.
Marcus kicked open the door to Sloane’s massive walk-in closet.
He began pulling out designer dresses and shoe boxes. Toward the back, hidden behind a row of winter coats, was a small, hard-shell suitcase.
It was navy blue.
“That’s Francesca’s,” I said instantly.
Sloane lunged for it, but Marcus shoved her aside, pinning her against the wall.
Adrian set the suitcase on the bed. He popped the latches.
It wasn’t full of Francesca’s clothes.
It was packed to the brim with tightly bound stacks of hundred-dollar bills. At least two million dollars.
And resting on top of the cash was a freshly printed passport.
Adrian flipped it open.
The photograph belonged to Sloane. But the name printed beside it was Elena Rossi.
“Rossi,” Adrian whispered. The same name as the matchbook found in the coat. The same name as the rival family that had spent decades trying to destroy the Belluccis.
“You weren’t planning a wedding,” Adrian said, staring at the woman he had almost married. “You were planning an escape.”
Sloane broke down sobbing. She slid down the wall to the floor.
“He was going to kill me, Adrian!” she cried. “Dominic Rossi found out I was siphoning money from his front companies before I met you. He told me if I didn’t pay him back with interest, he would kill my mother.”
The revelation hit like a freight train. Sloane hadn’t hidden her mother out of pure shame; she had hidden her to keep Dominic Rossi from finding her.
“So you used my house,” Adrian said. “You used my wealth. And you sold out my sister to pay your debts.”
“Francesca figured it out!” Sloane screamed. “She saw me handing the security codes to Dominic’s men! I didn’t want them to hurt her, I swear!”
“Where did they take her?” Adrian roared, losing his temper for the first time.
Before Sloane could answer, my cell phone vibrated violently in my apron pocket.
I pulled it out. It was a text message from my father.
My father, who was recovering from back surgery. My father, who could barely walk without a cane.
May you like
I read the text, and the blood drained completely from my face.
“Grace. A man just broke the front window. He says he has Adrian’s sister in a van outside. He told me to text you. He says if you don’t bring him the estate’s master keys right now, he’s going to kill us both.”
