THE LIE SPOKEN THROUGH THE SPEAKER

Vincent stared at the silver wolf’s head gleaming under the harsh hospital lights.

He didn’t touch it. He just stared at it, his jaw tight.

“Are you certain?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, clutching my injured hand against my chest. “When he got out of the wrecked car, he reached up to wipe his face. The sleeve of his jacket slid down. I saw the wolf’s head clearly. It’s not something you forget.”

Vincent pulled his phone from his coat pocket. He dialed a number.

“Miles.” His voice was cold. “Find Evan Sutton. I don’t care if he’s on a flight, at a hotel, or hiding in a ditch. Find the boy and bring him to the estate immediately. Do not let him contact his mother.”

He hung up.

He looked back at the unconscious woman in the bed.

“Caroline hit her,” Vincent murmured, putting the pieces together aloud. “But Evan gave her the bracelet.”

“Why would a wealthy eighteen-year-old boy give a heavy men’s bracelet to a woman in her fifties?” I asked.

“He didn’t give it to her,” Vincent said. He pointed to the woman’s wrist.

The skin around the heavy silver chain was red and severely bruised.

“It was torn off his wrist during a struggle,” Vincent said. “She didn’t step into the crosswalk by accident, Jessie. Caroline didn’t hit a random pedestrian. She intentionally ran down a woman who was fighting with her son.”

A cold chill ran down my spine.

Caroline wasn’t just a liar. She was a woman capable of attempted murder.

We left the hospital in silence. Vincent’s black SUV was waiting at the curb. The drive back to the estate felt entirely different than the drive there. The air inside the car was thick with unspoken tension.

I sat in the passenger seat, watching the city lights blur in the rain.

I should have asked to be dropped off at my apartment. My shift was over. I had the envelope of cash in my purse.

But I didn’t ask.

And Vincent didn’t offer.

We pulled through the massive iron gates of the Marino estate just past midnight. The mansion was dark, save for the security lights sweeping the grounds. The engagement dinner guests were long gone.

As we walked through the front doors, Miles was waiting in the grand foyer.

Standing next to the head of security, dripping wet and shivering uncontrollably, was Evan.

The boy looked nothing like the arrogant teenager who occasionally lounged by the estate pool. He looked like a terrified child. His clothes were soaked, his eyes red and swollen.

He didn’t have a suitcase. He didn’t have a plane ticket.

“We found him at the Greyhound bus station downtown, sir,” Miles reported smoothly. “Trying to buy a ticket to Canada with cash.”

Vincent took off his overcoat and handed it to Miles.

He walked slowly toward Evan.

The boy flinched, shrinking back against the marble pillar. He was terrified of Vincent. Everyone in Chicago knew who Vincent Marino was, and what his family had built.

“Where is your mother, Evan?” Vincent asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Evan choked out. “She told me to run. She said the plan was blown.”

“What plan?”

Evan squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head rapidly. “She’ll kill me. She said if I ever told anyone, she’d let them kill me.”

“Let who kill you?”

Evan just sobbed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

As he did, his right sleeve rode up.

His wrist was bare. But there was a deep, angry red scratch circling his skin.

Vincent looked at the scratch. Then he looked at Evan.

“Her name is Margaret, isn’t it?” Vincent said.

Evan’s eyes snapped open. He stared at Vincent in absolute shock.

“Margaret,” Evan whispered. “How... how do you know her?”

“She’s in a coma at Memorial Hospital,” Vincent said flatly. “She’s holding my picture. And she’s wearing your bracelet.”

Evan let out a broken gasp. His knees gave out.

He collapsed onto the marble floor, burying his face in his hands.

“She’s my nanny,” Evan sobbed. “She raised me. Mom left us alone for months at a time when I was little. Margaret was the only one who stayed.”

I stepped forward, forgetting my place as staff. “Why would your mother run her over?”

Evan looked up at me, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Because Margaret found out the truth,” Evan cried. “Mom didn’t pawn your necklace because she needed money, Mr. Marino. She pawned it to pay Margaret to keep quiet.”

Vincent crouched down so he was at eye level with the boy.

“Keep quiet about what, Evan?”

Evan swallowed hard.

“About the wedding,” Evan whispered. “Mom wasn’t marrying you for your money, Vincent. She was marrying you to clear a debt.”

Vincent’s eyes darkened. “To who?”

“The Romano family in New York,” Evan said, uttering the name of the rival syndicate that had fought a bloody war with the Marinos a decade ago. “Mom owes them millions. They told her she could wipe the slate clean if she married you.”

“And then?” Vincent asked, his voice deadly calm.

Evan looked down at the floor.

“And then, on your honeymoon in Italy, she was going to leave the villa doors unlocked. The Romanos were going to kill you in your sleep.”

The silence in the grand foyer was deafening.

I stared at Vincent, expecting him to explode. To yell. To break something.

He didn’t.

He stood up slowly.

“Miles,” Vincent said.

“Sir.”

“Put the boy in a guest room. Lock the door. Post a guard.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vincent turned to me.

“Jessie. Come with me.”

I followed him down the long hallway toward the private family wing. My heart was pounding against my ribs. We entered his massive, oak-paneled study. He closed the heavy doors behind us.

He walked over to his mahogany desk and unlocked the bottom drawer.

He pulled out a heavy, black steel lockbox.

He keyed in a code, and the lid popped open.

He reached inside and pulled out a thick stack of documents.

But he didn’t look at the papers. He looked under them.

He froze.

“What is it?” I asked, stepping closer.

Vincent reached into the box and pulled out a small, velvet jewelry case.

He popped it open.

Resting on the black velvet was a breathtaking, heavy emerald necklace.

I stared at it. “But... Caroline pawned it. We saw the ticket.”

Vincent looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a terrifying realization.