Chapter 5 - THE GOLD WATCH
The silence in the damp basement was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic dripping of harbor water from our clothes.
Damian stood frozen, staring at the gold watch on the floor.
The photograph inside the casing smiled back at him. Julian Castellano, younger, his face unscarred, holding a newborn baby wrapped in a pink blanket.
His daughter.
The reversal tore through the room like a physical shockwave. Mia wasn't Damian's biological child. She was Julian's.
"You're lying," Damian whispered. His voice lacked its usual commanding thunder. It was the sound of a man watching his entire reality crumble.
Marcus let his head loll back against the wooden chair, a bitter, bloody smirk on his face.
"Elena was pregnant before the fire, Damian," Marcus wheezed. "Before Julian 'died.' When he vanished, she married you to protect the child. She knew the New York families would kill Julian's heir to prevent a succession war. She made you believe Mia was yours."
I pressed my hand against the cold stone wall to steady myself.
Everything Damian had fought for—his fierce protection, his calculated moves, his empire—was built on a lie orchestrated by a terrified mother.
"Julian found out four years ago," Marcus continued, his breath growing shallower. "He contacted Elena. He wanted his daughter. That's why she bought the train ticket. She was going to give Mia to him."
"And he killed her," Damian growled, the rage returning, hotter and more dangerous than before.
"No," Marcus gasped, his eyes wide. "Julian didn't kill her. He loved her. He was waiting at the station. But someone else found out she was leaving. Someone who couldn't risk Julian returning and claiming the throne."
Marcus looked directly at Damian.
"Ask your precious estate director who cut the brake lines on Elena's car."
Damian froze.
He slowly turned his head.
Henry was standing at the edge of the trapdoor, his hands still zip-tied, flanked by the two guards. Henry's face was completely drained of blood.
"Henry?" Damian’s voice was dangerously calm.
Henry shook his head violently, tears streaming down his face. "Damian, I swear, I didn't know she was in the car! I thought it was just Marcus! I thought Marcus was betraying you even back then!"
Damian moved faster than my eyes could track.
He crossed the room and slammed Henry against the brick wall, his massive forearm pressing against Henry's throat. The zip-ties dug into Henry's wrists as he struggled to breathe.
"You killed my wife," Damian hissed, his dark eyes entirely devoid of mercy.
"I was protecting you!" Henry choked out. "Julian is a monster! If he came back, the streets would run red with blood! I cut the brakes to kill Marcus, to stop the meeting! I didn't know Elena took that car!"
"Boss," the security chief said urgently, stepping forward. "We have bigger problems. If Julian isn't here..."
Damian didn't release Henry. He turned his head slightly.
"He's at the mansion," Damian said. "With Mia."
"He tricked us," I rasped, the pieces fully clicking together in my mind. "He wanted you to bring your entire security force here. He left the tracker on the bed, left the drawing, and sent us to an empty fortress."
"Then where is Mia?" Damian demanded, looking at Marcus.
Marcus coughed, a thick spray of blood hitting his torn shirt. He was fading fast.
"Julian... Julian knows the mansion better than you do, Damian," Marcus whispered. "He built the hidden passages when you were kids. He didn't have to take her out the front door. He just... took her into the walls."
Marcus's eyes rolled back, and his chin dropped to his chest. He was dead.
Damian stared at the lifeless body of his oldest friend. Then he released Henry, letting the estate director crumple to the floor, gasping for air.
"Get him up," Damian ordered the guards, pointing at Henry. "He lives until I say otherwise."
Damian turned back to the trapdoor. The frantic energy of a desperate father replaced his shock. It didn't matter whose blood ran in Mia's veins. He was the one who had rocked her to sleep. He was the one who checked under her bed for monsters. She was his daughter.
"We're going back," Damian said.
We scrambled back down the rusted pipe, the freezing water a stark contrast to the burning urgency in our chests. We emerged into the storm and sprinted to the SUVs.
"Drive," Damian roared at the driver before his door was even fully closed. "Run every red light. If anyone gets in our way, ram them."
The convoy tore away from the boathouse, tires screaming on the wet asphalt.
I sat in the back seat, shivering violently, my hands clutching the black fabric of my uniform.
"The hidden passages," Damian muttered, staring out the rain-slicked window. "My father had them sealed up twenty years ago."
"Not all of them," I whispered.
Damian snapped his head toward me. "What?"
My throat felt like it was full of broken glass, but I forced the words out.
"I've worked in that house for three years," I rasped. "When you clean a mansion that old, you notice things. Cold drafts where there shouldn't be any. Hollow sounds behind the wood paneling in the library."
Damian's eyes locked onto mine. "You know where the entrances are?"
"Yes."
Damian reached out and grabbed my hand. His grip was desperate, anchoring him to hope.
"You're going to guide me, Olivia. You're going to take me into the walls."
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
It was a jarring, modern sound in the middle of a nightmare.
I pulled it out.
It was a text message. From an unknown number.
I stared at the screen, my blood turning to ice.
I slowly handed the phone to Damian.
Damian read the message aloud, his voice vibrating with absolute terror.
“If you want to see our daughter alive, come to the old servant's quarters. Come alone. If you bring guards, I light the match.”
Attached to the message was a photo.
It was Mia, tied to a wooden chair in a dark, stone room.
And wrapped around her small, terrifyingly fragile neck... was the silver bracelet. The one with the biometric tracker.
But it wasn't just a tracker anymore.
"Look at the clasp," Damian whispered, pointing at the screen.
May you like
Attached to the silver ivy of the bracelet was a tiny, blinking red light, wired to a small block of plastic explosive.
Julian hadn't left the bracelet on the bed to taunt Damian. He had left a decoy. He kept the real one on Mia, and he had turned it into a bomb.
