THE FORGED TICKET IN THE NIGHT

The revelation hit Dominic like a physical blow.

His entire life, he had been told Leo’s death was a tragic accident on icy roads. It was the tragedy that broke his mother’s heart, the grief that supposedly drove her to illness and death.

But the photograph proved it was murder. Cold, calculated murder by the man who had sat at their dinner table for two decades.

Dominic carefully folded the photograph and placed it back into the gold pocket watch. When he looked up, the grief in his eyes had been entirely replaced by a lethal, chilling resolve.

“Marcus,” Dominic called out of the van doors.

His head of security jogged over. “Yes, boss?”

“Take the men driving this van to the warehouse. Do whatever it takes to find out exactly whose payroll they are on.” Dominic’s voice was devoid of mercy. “Then, take Anna and her father to the safe house in the North Woods.”

Anna grabbed Dominic’s sleeve. “Where are you going?”

“I have to go back to the estate,” Dominic said. “I have to confront Vincent before he realizes the men he hired failed.”

“No,” Thomas rasped, grabbing Anna’s hand. “Don't go back there, Dominic. The estate isn't safe. Vincent didn't act alone sixteen years ago. He had help from inside the house.”

Dominic froze. “Who?”

“I don't know,” Thomas wheezed, his energy fading rapidly. “But your mother left something else behind. Evidence. She hid it where no one in your family would ever look.”

“Where?” Dominic pressed.

“The servant’s attic,” Thomas whispered. “In her old winter coat. The blue one.”

Dominic looked at Anna. “You know the attic?”

“I clean it twice a year,” Anna said, her heart pounding. “I know exactly where the old clothing racks are.”

“Then you’re coming with me,” Dominic decided. He looked at Marcus. “Get Thomas to the safe house. Put a dozen men on him.”

An hour later, Dominic and Anna slipped through the service entrance of the Moretti estate. The grand house was eerily quiet. The dinner guests had long since fled, and the main floor was completely dark.

They bypassed the basement where Vincent was being held, creeping up the narrow, winding servant staircase that led to the fourth-floor attic.

The attic was massive, smelling of dust and dried lavender. Flashlight in hand, Anna navigated through towering stacks of antique furniture and covered paintings.

“The storage trunks are in the back,” Anna whispered, leading him to a dark corner where three large garment racks stood wrapped in plastic.

She unzipped the heavy plastic cover of the middle rack. Inside hung dozens of vintage dresses and coats.

“The blue one,” Dominic muttered, shining his light along the sleeves.

Anna reached past a heavy fur and pulled out a faded, navy-blue wool coat. It was simple, entirely unsuited for a wealthy mafia wife, which was probably why it had been relegated to the attic.

Dominic reached into the right pocket. Empty.

He reached into the left. His fingers brushed against something hard.

He pulled it out.

It was a heavy, silver charm bracelet.

Anna gasped, taking a step backward. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Dominic looked at the bracelet, then at Anna’s terrified face. “What is it? Do you recognize this?”

“I... I don't understand,” Anna stammered, tears springing to her eyes. “My father told me my mother lost that bracelet the year I was born.”

Dominic frowned, looking closer at the silver charms. There was a tiny piano, a silver heart, and a small engraved letter 'A'.

“Your mother?” Dominic asked softly.

“My mother died when I was an infant,” Anna cried. “My dad kept a picture of her wearing that exact bracelet. Why would it be hidden in your mother’s coat?”

Before Dominic could answer, the heavy wooden door of the attic slammed shut.

The deadbolt clicked loudly from the outside.

A voice echoed through the thick wood of the door. It wasn't Vincent.

It was the silver-haired head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, a woman who had worked for the Morettis since before Dominic was born.