Chapter 5 - THE VELVET BOX
“Vincenzo,” Gabriel repeated, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.
His uncle. The man who had raised him after his father died. The man who sat at the head of the table at every Thanksgiving, every Christmas.
“He’s upstairs,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “He’s with the guests.”
Marcus shook his head, wiping the blood from his eye. “No, he’s not. When the blast went off, the guests panicked. I tried to keep them in the dining room, but Vincenzo slipped out. He’s in the house somewhere.”
Gabriel’s face hardened into a mask of pure, lethal focus. He bent down and picked up Marcus’s gun from the floor, handing it back to him.
“We sweep the house,” Gabriel said. “Room by room.”
“Wait,” I interrupted.
Both men looked at me.
I looked at Sofia. She was staring at the drawing of the watch, her small face pale.
“Sofia,” I said gently, crouching down beside her. “Why did you draw the watch?”
She sniffled. “Because it was shiny. Even in the dark.”
“Did you see his face?” Gabriel asked softly.
Sofia shook her head. “It was too dark. I just saw the shiny watch when he reached out and pushed Mommy.”
I felt sick.
But something wasn't right.
“Gabriel,” I said, standing up. “If Vincenzo wanted Elena dead, why use Celeste? He’s the head of the family’s old guard. He has a dozen men who could make it look like an accident. Why involve an outsider?”
Marcus frowned. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for two years.”
“Because she had something he wanted,” a voice said from the doorway.
We all spun around.
Celeste stood in the library doorway.
She looked ruined. Her champagne gown was torn at the hem, her hair a messy tangle. She looked terrified, not of Gabriel, but of what was in the house with us.
“How did you get away from the guards?” Marcus demanded, raising his gun.
“They’re dead, Marcus,” Celeste said, her voice completely flat. “Vincenzo’s men killed them. They’re locking down the exits. Nobody is leaving.”
Gabriel stepped forward, grabbing Celeste by the arm and pulling her into the room, shutting the door.
“Why was Vincenzo there that night?” Gabriel demanded.
Celeste let out a broken, hysterical laugh. “You really don’t know, do you, Gabriel? You think your precious wife was just a tragic victim?”
“Watch your mouth,” Gabriel warned, his grip tightening.
“She was blackmailing him,” Celeste spat. “Elena found out that Vincenzo was skimming millions from the family accounts. He was bankrupting you, Gabriel. Setting you up to take the fall with the Feds.”
My mind raced. Elena wasn’t just an addict. She was a liability to Vincenzo’s greed.
“Elena told me everything,” Celeste continued, tears finally spilling down her ruined makeup. “She trusted me. She told me she had proof. Physical proof. She hid it.”
“And you told Vincenzo,” Gabriel realized, disgusted.
“He threatened me!” Celeste cried. “He said if I didn’t help him find it, he would kill me too. We were looking for it that night. On the stairs. She woke up. She caught us.”
Celeste looked at Sofia, a flicker of genuine shame in her eyes. “I swear, Gabriel, I didn’t know he was going to push her. I was just trying to buy my own life.”
“Where is the proof?” Marcus asked.
“I don’t know. We never found it.”
I looked at Celeste’s heavy winter coat, which she had grabbed from the coat check before the blast. The pocket was bulging awkwardly.
“What’s in your pocket, Celeste?” I asked.
She flinched, pulling the coat tighter.
Gabriel noticed. In one swift motion, he reached in and pulled out a small, worn velvet box.
“No!” Celeste gasped.
Gabriel popped the box open.
Inside was a delicate, ancient silver rosary.
Gabriel stared at it, confused. “This is my father’s rosary. It’s been missing for years.”
“Why do you have that?” Marcus asked Celeste.
Celeste backed against the wall. “Because... because Vincenzo didn’t just kill Elena.”
She looked directly at Gabriel.
“He killed your father, too, Gabriel. And this rosary is the proof. Because it has Vincenzo’s blood on it from the night he strangled him.”
The room went dead silent.
Gabriel’s father hadn't died of a heart attack ten years ago.
He was murdered. By his own brother.
And Elena had found the murder weapon.
Before Gabriel could process the horrifying truth, a heavy, slow clapping echoed from the dark hallway outside the library.
“Bravo, Celeste,” a raspy, old voice called out.
Vincenzo.
May you like
“But you always did talk too much.”
Suddenly, the library door was violently kicked open, and three men with automatic rifles stepped into the room.
