Chapter 2 - THE SILVER PILLBOX
The silence in the dining room was thick enough to choke on.
Thirty guests sat completely frozen. Crystal wine glasses hovered halfway to their lips.
Marco De Santis didn’t look at the guests.
He didn’t look at the armed security guards standing by the mahogany doors.
He only looked at Victor Hale.
"My personal authorization," Marco repeated. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the floorboards. "You are telling me that I authorized the tampering of my own mother’s medication?"
Victor’s face was perfectly composed. Twelve years of handling Marco’s darkest business had taught him how to lie without sweating.
"Marco, clearly there’s a glitch in the system," Victor said smoothly. "Or someone duplicated your biometric key. Clara had access to the main office yesterday morning to dust the bookshelves."
I stumbled backward, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"I didn't!" I said, my voice trembling. "I was never in the office! You told me to stay in the kitchen!"
"She's desperate, Marco," Victor said, his eyes narrowing at me. "Look at her. Look at her eye. She got into a struggle with the pharmacy courier because she was trying to steal the narcotics to sell them."
Marco turned to me.
His dark eyes analyzed my bruised, light-sensitive left eye.
"Clara," Marco said. "If you didn't fight a courier, how did your face get bruised?"
I looked down.
I didn't want to say it. Because saying it meant involving the one person in this house who was more off-limits than Marco's mother.
"Tell me," Marco commanded.
"It was a silver pillbox," I whispered.
Victor laughed. A short, mocking sound. "A pillbox did that?"
"Yes," I said, finally looking up, staring directly into Marco’s eyes. "It was thrown at my face. Hard."
"By who?" Marco asked.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "By your son."
The entire dining room gasped.
Marco’s eight-year-old son, Leo, was a ghost in the mansion. He rarely spoke. He never attended dinners. Since his mother, Sofia, passed away five years ago in a tragic boating accident, Leo had become completely withdrawn.
"Leo threw a pillbox at you?" Marco asked, the dangerous edge in his voice sharpening. "My son doesn't throw things. He barely speaks."
"He was terrified, sir," I pleaded, my hands shaking. "I walked into your mother’s suite to bring her tea. Leo was hiding under her bed. He was shaking. When I reached for him, he panicked. He grabbed your mother's heavy silver pillbox from the nightstand and threw it at me. It hit my eye."
Victor sneered. "A ridiculous story to cover up her theft."
"It's not a story," I said, my voice rising. I was done being invisible. "I pulled him out from under the bed. He was crying. He kept pointing at the medicine cabinet. He said, 'The bad man is making Grandma sleep forever.'"
Marco’s face drained of color.
Before Victor could speak, the heavy dining room doors creaked open.
Standing in the doorway, wearing his little silk pajamas, was Leo.
He was clutching something tightly against his small chest.
Marco immediately dropped to one knee, ignoring the guests, ignoring the security.
"Leo?" Marco said softly, holding out his hands. "Come here, mio piccolo."
Leo didn't walk to his father.
He walked directly to me.
He looked up at my bruised eye, his small face filled with guilt.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, Clara," Leo whispered, his voice trembling but clear.
"It's okay, sweetie," I said, tears burning my eyes. "I know you were just scared."
Marco stood up slowly, looking from me to his son.
"Leo," Marco said gently. "Who were you scared of?"
Leo didn't point. He didn't say a name.
Instead, he held out his small hands, opening them to reveal the object he had been clutching against his chest.
It wasn't a toy.
It was a heavy, antique vintage necklace. A massive sapphire surrounded by diamonds.
Marco stopped breathing.
I heard Victor take a sharp, panicked step backward.
"Where did you get that?" Marco whispered, staring at the jewelry.
"The lady told me to hide it," Leo said quietly.
May you like
Marco looked at me, his eyes wide with a terror I had never seen before.
Because that vintage necklace was the exact piece of jewelry his wife, Sofia, had been wearing the night she drowned.
