Chapter 5 - THE PLATINUM WATCH
Del stared at the drawing, the crude crayon lines blurring through her tears.
Tell him the truth about the baby.
She crumpled the paper in her fist before Sloan could see it. She forced a shaky smile for Leo. “I’ve missed you so much, sweetie. Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
Sloan watched her closely. He didn’t miss a thing. “What did he give you?”
“Just a drawing,” Del lied, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm. She stood up, shielding Leo with her body.
Sloan guided them into the mansion. The grand foyer was exactly as Del remembered—cold marble, sweeping staircases, an empire built on blood.
“Take Leo to his room,” Sloan instructed one of the maids. “Lock the door. Don’t let anyone but me or Delphine inside.”
Once they were alone in Sloan’s private study, the heavy doors clicked shut.
Sloan poured a glass of water and handed it to her. “Now. Tell me why you’re shaking.”
Del took a deep breath. She had to tell him. But if she exposed Bishop, and Bishop was working for someone inside the house, Leo could be killed.
“I’m just overwhelmed,” she deflected.
“Delphine.” Sloan stepped closer. He gently placed his hand on her pregnant stomach. The baby kicked instantly, as if recognizing its father’s touch. Sloan gasped softly, his hard eyes melting. “Is it…?”
“A girl,” Del whispered.
Sloan closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. “A daughter. I thought I lost you. I thought I lost everything. I will burn this city to the ground before I let anyone hurt you again.”
A knock at the door interrupted them.
“Come in,” Sloan said, stepping back but keeping his hand on Del’s waist.
Dr. Aris stepped into the room, carrying a black medical bag. He was the syndicate’s private physician, a man who had patched up Sloan more times than Del could count.
“Sloan, I came as soon as I heard,” Dr. Aris said, adjusting his glasses. “You need me to check on Mrs. Marchetti?”
“Yes. Check the baby’s vitals,” Sloan ordered.
Dr. Aris approached, pulling a stethoscope from his bag. As he reached out, the cuff of his dress shirt pulled back, revealing a distinct, custom-made platinum watch with a cracked face.
Del stopped breathing.
Answer One, Open Two.
The night she was run off the bridge, after she crawled from the wreckage, she hid in the mud. She watched the man with the gold lighter (Bishop) searching for her. But he hadn’t been alone. Another man had walked down the embankment, holding a flashlight.
She had seen that platinum watch with the cracked face gleaming in the beam of the flashlight.
The doctor who had officially signed her death certificate eight months ago… was the one who helped fake her death scene.
Del looked into Dr. Aris’s eyes. He smiled warmly, pressing the stethoscope to her belly.
“Heartbeat is strong, Mrs. Marchetti,” Dr. Aris said smoothly. “You’ve kept her very safe.”
Del felt sick. Dr. Aris was poisoning Cora. He had access to Cora’s medical files, her allergies. He was the one who tampered with the epinephrine injector.
She looked at Sloan, desperately trying to communicate with her eyes.
Before she could speak, Dr. Aris pulled a syringe from his bag. “Just a mild sedative, Sloan. Her blood pressure is terribly high.”
He moved the needle toward Del’s arm.
“Stop,” Del said.
She reached into her pocket, pulling out the crumpled child’s drawing, and shoved it into Sloan’s hand.
“Sloan,” Del said, her voice dropping to a dead, serious whisper. “Look at the handwriting.”
Sloan looked down. He saw the elegant, sharp cursive.
Tell him the truth about the baby, or the boy goes swimming.
May you like
Sloan’s head snapped up. He looked at Dr. Aris.
He recognized his own private doctor's handwriting.
