Chapter 5 - THE HEAVY WOOL COAT
My whole body trembled in the darkness of the library.
Thomas.
My big brother. The one who taught me how to ride a bike. The one who worked double shifts at the grocery store to buy my prom dress. The one whose empty coffin I had wept over ten years ago.
"Thomas?" I choked out, unable to stop myself.
"It's me, Em," his voice came through the thick oak door, smooth and calm. "Open up. We don't have much time. Silas's men are breaching the perimeter."
My hand instinctively reached for the heavy brass deadbolt.
My brother was alive. He was here to save me.
But as my fingers brushed the cold metal, a memory flashed in my mind.
The man in the hallway who grabbed my wrist.
I hadn't seen his face. He wore a ski mask. But I remembered the scent of his cologne. Sandalwood and cheap tobacco.
And I remembered the heavy wool coat he wore. It was distinct. A military-issue surplus coat, rough and stiff.
"Thomas," I whispered, pulling my hand away from the lock. "Where have you been for ten years?"
A pause on the other side of the door.
"I had to disappear, Em. The DeLucas were looking for me. They knew I figured out who you really were. I went underground to protect you."
Answer One: Thomas faked his death to escape the mafia's radar.
Open Two: If he was protecting me, why did he wait until I was inside the belly of the beast to show up?
"I'm scared, Thomas," I said, my voice shaking. "Silas broke in. Adrian shot him."
"I know," Thomas said urgently. "Adrian is a monster, Emily. He's just like his father. He'll kill you once he realizes you have the claim to the vault. Open the door. Let me get you and the kid out of here."
Underneath the desk, Sofia whimpered. I placed a reassuring hand on her head.
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm opening it."
I unlocked the deadbolt.
But I didn't pull the door open. I took three steps backward, melting into the shadows of the bookshelves.
The door creaked open.
A flashlight beam sliced through the darkness, illuminating the dust motes in the air.
Thomas stepped into the library.
He looked older. Harsher. The kindness that used to live in his eyes was replaced by something cold and calculating.
And he was wearing a heavy, military-issue wool coat.
The smell of sandalwood and cheap tobacco flooded the room.
It was him.
My own brother was the one who had grabbed me in the hallway. He was the one who had grabbed little Sofia.
"Emmy?" he called out, sweeping the flashlight across the room. "Where are you?"
"Why did you grab my wrist, Thomas?" I asked from the darkness.
Thomas stopped. The flashlight beam snapped toward my voice, blinding me.
I threw my arm up to shield my eyes.
"You hurt me," I said, my voice breaking with the ultimate betrayal. "You hurt Sofia. Why?"
Thomas lowered the flashlight slightly, revealing his hardened face.
"Because Silas needed proof you were the heir," Thomas said flatly, without a shred of remorse. "He needed your DNA. The skin cells off your wrist. The hair from the little brat's room to prove she didn't have the marker."
My heart shattered into a million pieces.
"You're working for Silas?"
"Silas pays well, Emmy," Thomas said, stepping closer. "We grew up with nothing because our mother was a coward who ran away from a billionaire. We deserve that vault. We deserve that fifty million."
"I don't want dirty money!" I yelled, stepping out of the shadows. "And I don't want you."
Thomas's face darkened. He reached into his coat and pulled out a gun.
"I wasn't asking, Emily."
He pointed the weapon at me.
"Where is the silver key?"
"I don't have it," I lied. The key was still wrapped in the birth certificate, stuffed in my apron pocket.
"Don't lie to me," Thomas sneered. "Silas said the boss opened the music box. Hand it over."
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the hallway outside.
Gunfire erupted.
The house shook as heavy doors were battered open.
"Adrian's men are here," I said, panic rising.
"No," Thomas smiled grimly. "Those are Vincent's men. The other advisors. They've wanted to wipe out Adrian for years. Silas just gave them the opening."
Thomas lunged forward, grabbing my left wrist—the exact same wrist he had bruised two days ago.
I screamed in pain as his fingers dug into the swollen flesh.
"Give me the key!" he demanded.
Before I could fight back, a small blur shot out from underneath the mahogany desk.
Sofia.
The nine-year-old girl held a heavy glass paperweight in her tiny hands. With a fierce cry, she swung it as hard as she could, smashing it directly into Thomas's kneecap.
Thomas roared in pain, dropping my wrist and stumbling backward.
"Run, Emily!" Sofia screamed.
I didn't run away.
I grabbed the heavy bronze lamp off the nearest reading table and swung it with all my might, striking my brother across the side of his head.
Thomas crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
I dropped the lamp, gasping for air, and scooped Sofia into my arms.
"You are so brave," I cried, kissing her cheek. "You are so brave."
"I protected you," she said proudly, tears streaming down her dirty face.
"Yes, you did."
I stepped over my brother's body, feeling nothing but cold resolve. He was dead to me ten years ago. Tonight, he died again.
We ran out of the library and back into the dark hallway.
But we didn't get far.
Standing at the end of the corridor, silhouetted by the moonlight pouring through the tall windows, were three men in tactical gear.
And standing in front of them was Vincent. The oldest advisor.
He held Adrian DeLuca by the throat, a gun pressed to the mafia boss's temple.
Adrian’s face was bruised and bleeding, but his eyes were locked on me.
"Emily," Adrian gasped out. "The passageway. Take her and go."
Vincent smiled, stepping into the moonlight.
He was holding something in his free hand.
May you like
It was a pearl earring.
"Going somewhere, little bird?" Vincent asked, tossing the earring onto the floor. "Your mother dropped that on the night I killed her. Now, give me the key, or I put a bullet in your brother's head."
