Chapter 3 - THE TORN TICKET
The library felt like a tomb.
Matteo stared at the silver watch in his hand as if it were a ghost. The heavy metal caught the dim light, the engraved crest shining like a threat.
"Buried with him?" I repeated, my voice barely audible.
"I placed it in his casket myself," Matteo said. His voice was hollow. "Nobody else was in the room. The casket was sealed. It went into the family mausoleum."
He looked back at the empty space on the bookshelf.
"Someone went into the vault. Someone opened it. And they took this..." He looked at me, his eyes hardening into polished stone. "...and they placed it exactly where you hid your recording."
My mind raced. "But why? Why take the recorder and leave this?"
"It’s a message," Matteo said quietly. He closed his fist around the watch. "Vincent didn't just steal my secrets. He’s telling me there are no boundaries. Nothing is sacred."
But as he said it, a chilling thought crossed my mind.
"Mr. Romano," I hesitated. "Vincent was detained immediately after the video was shown. He couldn't have swapped the items tonight."
Matteo froze.
I was right.
"He swapped it earlier," Matteo realized. "He already knew you hid it here."
Which meant Vincent wasn't surprised in the dining room. He had known about the recorder. He had let the confrontation happen.
Why would a traitor let himself get caught?
Unless getting caught was part of the plan.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the library pushed open.
I gasped, stepping behind Matteo.
But it wasn't a hitman.
It was a little girl.
Sofia. Matteo’s seven-year-old daughter.
She stood in the doorway wearing a pink silk nightgown, clutching a stuffed bear. Her dark hair was messy from sleep, but her wide, brown eyes were wide awake.
"Daddy?" she whispered.
Matteo’s entire demeanor shifted. The dangerous mafia boss vanished, replaced instantly by a terrified father. He crossed the room in three long strides and knelt in front of her.
"Sofia, sweetie, what are you doing out of bed? Where is your nanny?"
"Maria is sleeping on the floor," Sofia said innocently. "I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn't open her eyes."
My blood ran cold.
Matteo’s face turned completely pale. "What?"
"She's sleeping," Sofia repeated. Then she held out her small hand. "But Uncle Vincent's friend came to see me. He said we were going on a surprise trip."
Matteo looked down at his daughter’s hand.
Sofia was holding a piece of heavy cardstock.
A torn train ticket.
Matteo took it. It wasn't a standard commuter ticket. It was a private charter pass. One-way. Out of the city.
"Who gave this to you, Sofia?" Matteo asked, his voice completely level, hiding the absolute panic I knew he was feeling.
"The man in the black suit," Sofia said. "He said Uncle Vincent is waiting outside for us."
"Vincent is downstairs in the holding room," Matteo said, almost to himself.
I looked at the ticket. Then I looked at Sofia.
"He's not," I whispered.
Matteo looked up at me.
"If Vincent knew about the recorder... if he wanted to be caught..." I swallowed hard, the pieces clicking together in my mind. "He wanted to be put in the lower cellar. Because the cellar connects to the service tunnels."
Matteo stood up so fast he knocked over a heavy reading chair.
Vincent hadn't been detained. He had been escorted exactly where he wanted to go, past the main security checkpoints, straight to his escape route. And he had sent an accomplice to grab the one thing Matteo valued more than his empire.
His daughter.
"We need to move. Now," Matteo ordered, picking Sofia up in his arms.
"Daddy, I forgot my bear's jacket," Sofia said, pointing toward the hallway.
"We'll get a new one, principessa," Matteo said, moving toward the private service elevator hidden behind the far wall.
He punched in a code. The doors slid open.
"Get in," he told me.
"Me?" I stepped back. "Sir, I just serve the wine. I should go to my room—"
"The people working with Vincent know you have the recorder, or at least they know you saw something," Matteo said, his eyes burning into mine. "If I leave you out there, you'll be dead before sunrise. Get in the elevator, Lily."
I stepped inside.
The elevator descended rapidly. The numbers above the door blinked.
3... 2... 1...
B1. The sub-basement.
The doors slid open to the underground parking garage. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting long, unnatural shadows across the concrete pillars.
Matteo stepped out cautiously, shielding Sofia with his body. He pulled a heavy black handgun from his waistband.
"Stay behind me," he whispered to me.
We moved silently between the parked luxury cars. It was too quiet. The guards who usually patrolled this area were missing.
Then, I saw him.
Standing by the heavy steel exit doors, holding a radio.
One of Matteo’s most trusted guards. A man named Thomas.
"Thomas," Matteo called out quietly.
Thomas jumped, spinning around. When he saw Matteo, relief washed over his face. "Boss! Thank God. The comms are down. Vincent escaped the holding room. We're locking down the perimeter."
Matteo lowered his gun slightly. "Are the cars secure?"
"Yes, sir. I have an armored SUV prepped for you right here." Thomas gestured to a massive black vehicle nearby. "Get Sofia inside. It's not safe."
Matteo nodded, stepping forward.
But I stopped.
I had spent my entire life watching people. When you can't hear out of one ear, you learn to read everything else. The way shoulders sit. The way eyes dart.
I looked at Thomas.
His stance was wrong. His weight was shifted to the balls of his feet. His hand wasn't resting on his radio; it was hovering over his holster.
And more importantly... his lips were moving slightly. A nervous tick.
I watched his mouth form a silent phrase.
I'm sorry.
May you like
"Mr. Romano, wait!" I screamed.
Matteo didn't question me. He threw himself backward, taking Sofia to the ground just as Thomas drew his weapon.
