Chapter 4 - THE TRAIN TICKET
The dining room erupted into chaos.
Guests gasped, pushing away from the table. Marcus and the security team immediately drew their weapons, forming a protective ring around Vincent and Mia.
I couldn’t hear the shouting. I couldn’t hear the panic.
All I could hear was the rushing of blood in my ears as I stared down at the tarnished gold locket in my hand.
My mother.
My quiet, hardworking mother who had worked as a private nurse for wealthy families. The police had told me she was walking home from a shift when a drunk driver struck her. A closed case. A tragic accident.
But she wasn't walking home.
She was in the car with Elena Romano.
I dropped to my knees so I was eye-level with Mia. My hands were shaking so violently I could barely hold the locket.
“Mia,” I choked out, tears blurring my vision. “Sweetheart, what do you mean? You were in the car?”
Vincent was by our side in a fraction of a second. He placed his massive hands on Mia’s shoulders, his face completely pale.
“Mia was found three miles away from the crash site,” Vincent said rapidly, his voice thick with confusion and rising panic. “The police said she must have wandered away in shock. She never spoke of it. She never…”
Vincent looked at me, realizing the terrifying implication of his own words.
If Mia remembered the crash… she remembered who caused it.
I looked back at Mia. “Mia, who pushed your car off the road?”
Mia squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face into her father’s chest. She raised one small, trembling hand and pointed directly at Isabella.
Isabella didn't try to defend herself this time.
The facade was entirely gone.
“Get them!” Isabella screamed, her voice shrill and desperate.
At the far end of the long dining table, six men who had been sitting quietly as guests suddenly stood up. They reached under their tailored suit jackets and pulled out suppressed handguns.
They weren't guests. They were Isabella’s family. The Conti syndicate.
“Down!” Marcus roared.
Vincent tackled me and Mia to the floor just as the first shot shattered the crystal chandelier above us.
Glass rained down like diamonds, sparkling in the dim light. Guests screamed, scrambling under the heavy mahogany table.
Gunfire erupted from Marcus and the Romano guards, a deafening exchange that filled the room with the bitter smell of cordite.
I curled my body completely over Mia, shielding her with my back. I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching my mother’s locket so tightly the metal cut into my palm.
“Lily!” Vincent yelled over the gunfire. He grabbed my arm, pulling me up slightly. “We have to move! To the hallway!”
We crawled frantically behind the cover of the massive marble fireplace.
“Hold the room!” Vincent barked at Marcus.
“Go, Boss! We’ve got them!” Marcus yelled back, returning fire.
Vincent scooped Mia into his arms, grabbing my hand with his free one. We sprinted out of the dining room and into the grand, dimly lit hallway of the estate.
Vincent slammed the heavy oak doors shut behind us, locking the deadbolt. The muffled sounds of the shootout continued on the other side.
We were alone in the corridor.
Vincent set Mia down, breathing heavily. He looked at me, his dark eyes searching my face.
“Your mother,” Vincent said, the realization finally locking into place. “Your mother was Sarah Carter.”
I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks. “She was a nurse. She told me she was working for a wealthy family on the Upper East Side. She never told me the name.”
“She was Elena’s private nurse,” Vincent whispered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Elena was sick. A rare blood condition. She needed daily care. Sarah was the only person Elena trusted.”
I looked down at the gold locket in my hand.
With shaking fingers, I pressed the small latch on the side. The locket popped open.
Inside wasn't just a picture of me as a baby.
Folded tightly into a tiny square behind the photo was a piece of paper.
I carefully pulled it out and unfolded it.
It was a train ticket. Dated October 14th, three years ago. The day of the crash.
But it wasn't just one ticket. It was a receipt for three tickets.
Printed clearly at the top were the passenger names:
Elena Romano.
Sarah Carter.
Mia Romano.
I looked up at Vincent, my heart breaking for the man standing in front of me.
“She wasn’t kidnapped,” I whispered, holding the ticket out to him. “And it wasn't an accident. They were running away, Vincent. My mother was trying to help your wife and daughter escape.”
Vincent took the ticket. He stared at the names, his chest rising and falling heavily.
“Escape?” Vincent asked, his voice hollow. “Escape from what? I gave her everything. I loved her more than my own life.”
“Not from you, Vincent.”
The voice came from the top of the grand sweeping staircase.
We all looked up.
Isabella was standing on the landing.
She had managed to slip out through the dining room's side door during the firefight. Her elegant dress was torn, and she was holding a silver pistol, aimed directly down at us.
But that wasn't what made my blood run cold.
May you like
In her left hand, Isabella was holding an antique, heavy iron key.
“She wasn't running from you, Vincent,” Isabella sneered, slowly descending the stairs, keeping the gun leveled at his chest. “She was running from my family. Because Elena figured out exactly what this key unlocks.”
