Chapter 2 - THE BRAIDED BRACELET
Marcus Ellery stood paralyzed for exactly one second.
Then his training took over.
“Clear the room!” Marcus shouted, his hand dropping to the holster at his hip.
The two security men fanned out, sweeping the corners of the massive office, checking behind the heavy velvet curtains.
Dr. Lena Morales pushed past Marcus. She dropped her black medical bag onto the Persian rug beside Adeline and slid to her knees.
“Mr. Castellano,” Lena said, her voice sharp and commanding. “Look at me.”
Vincent opened his eyes. He was pale, sweating, and breathing in shallow, jagged gasps.
He didn’t look at the doctor.
He looked at the toddler sitting cross-legged next to her.
“Frog was green,” Vincent murmured, a faint, ghost of a smile touching his lips.
Lena ripped Vincent’s ruined shirt open.
A deep, ugly puncture wound marred his left side. It wasn’t a bullet. It was a blade.
“Marcus, apply pressure here. Hard,” Lena ordered.
Marcus knelt, pressing a thick gauze pad against his boss’s ribs. Vincent groaned, his jaw clenching tightly.
Adeline watched them. She didn’t cry, but she pulled her stuffed green alligator tighter against her small chest.
“Uncle Vin hurt,” she stated.
“I know, sweetie,” Lena said gently, not breaking focus. “We are fixing him.”
Marcus looked around the room, his eyes scanning the chaos. The overturned chair. The scattered papers.
“Where is Camille?” Marcus barked, looking back at his men. “The girl’s mother. The maid. Where is she?”
The security guards exchanged a blank look.
“She was supposed to be doing the second-floor windows,” one of them said.
“Find her,” Marcus ordered. “Lock down the gates. Nobody leaves. Nobody enters.”
The men bolted from the room.
Marcus turned his attention back to Vincent. “Boss. Who did this?”
Vincent’s breathing was leveling out under Lena’s rapid treatment, but his eyes were cloudy with pain.
“Didn’t… see,” Vincent choked out. “Came from behind. Black jacket.”
“We will find him,” Marcus promised.
Lena worked quickly, packing the wound and wrapping tight bandages around Vincent’s torso. “The blade missed his lung, but he lost a lot of blood. I need to move him to the medical suite downstairs.”
Marcus nodded. He reached under Vincent’s arms to lift him.
As he did, Vincent’s right hand fell limply off the armrest of the leather chair.
His fist was clenched tight.
Too tight.
“Hold on,” Marcus said, pausing.
He gently pried Vincent’s fingers open.
Resting in the center of the mafia boss’s bloody palm was a small, torn object.
Adeline leaned forward, pointing a small finger.
“Mama’s,” she said.
Marcus stared at it.
It was a braided leather bracelet. Faded brown, secured with a cheap silver clasp.
Camille wore it every single day. She had explicitly told Marcus it was the only thing she had left of her late husband.
“Why does he have Camille’s bracelet?” Lena whispered, looking horrified.
Before Marcus could answer, his radio crackled to life.
“Boss,” the security guard’s voice echoed through the earpiece. “You need to see this. We’re in the east hallway.”
“Did you find Camille?” Marcus asked.
“No, sir. We found her cleaning cart.”
“And?”
“And there’s blood everywhere.”
Marcus felt a cold dread settle in his stomach.
He looked down at the braided bracelet in Vincent’s hand, then at little Adeline, who was completely unaware her mother was missing.
Vincent’s eyes fluttered open. He grabbed Marcus’s wrist with surprising strength.
“Don’t let them…” Vincent gasped, his eyes wild. “Don’t let them take her.”
Marcus frowned. “Take Camille?”
Vincent shook his head violently.
He looked directly at the two-year-old girl clutching her toy.
“No,” Vincent whispered. “Them.”
Marcus followed Vincent’s gaze to the floor.
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Just beneath the edge of the heavy mahogany desk, half-hidden by the shadows, was a heavy silver pocket watch.
And its cover was stamped with the crest of a rival family they had destroyed five years ago.
