Chapter 6 - THE TRAIN TICKET
I stared at the thick, cream-colored envelope resting amidst the shattered porcelain of the lamp.
My name was written across the front in elegant, looping cursive.
Claire Bennett.
My heart skipped a beat.
Rosa didn’t know me. Why would she have an envelope with my name on it hidden in her guest suite?
Anthony had Rosa pinned to the floor, waiting for the police. Dominic was down the hall with Mia.
I crouched down quickly, slipping the envelope into the deep pocket of my apron before anyone could see.
Ten minutes later, the Chicago Police Department swarmed the penthouse.
The dining room was a chaotic scene of flashing lights, statements, and sobbing guests. Paramedics confirmed Silvio was stabilized and recovering at Chicago Med. The poison had been a fast-acting but diluted paralytic.
Rosa was hauled away in handcuffs, screaming obscenities at Dominic, who stood silently near the fireplace, holding Mia’s hand.
Celeste was escorted out by detectives, still crying, admitting to her part in planting the photo under duress.
The party was over. The nightmare seemed finished.
I retreated to the staff kitchen to clean up the shattered dinner plates. My hands were shaking as I ran them under cold water.
When the kitchen was finally empty, I pulled the envelope from my apron.
I broke the wax seal.
Inside was a single, stiff piece of paper.
An Amtrak train ticket.
Two passengers.
Martha Bennett and Claire Bennett.
Departure: Tomorrow at 6:00 AM.
Destination: Montreal, Canada.
I stared at the ticket, confused. Martha was my mother. She hadn’t left Chicago in twenty years. Why was there a train ticket for us in Rosa’s room?
I dug my fingers deeper into the envelope. There was something else.
A small, folded piece of hotel stationery.
I unfolded it. The handwriting was sharp and rushed.
Claire - Take the ticket. Take your mother. Leave tonight. If Rosa finds out what your mother saw ten years ago, you are both dead. - Thomas.
The air in my lungs vanished.
Thomas. The head waiter who had fled.
The reversal hit me, completely upending everything I thought I knew.
Thomas wasn’t working for Rosa. He was trying to protect me.
Ten years ago, my mother worked overnight cleaning offices downtown. One of those offices belonged to Victor Salerno. She quit suddenly, moved us to the suburbs, and never spoke of that job again. She struggled with the mortgage ever since.
What did she see?
And why did Rosa care?
“Claire.”
I jumped, dropping the note.
Dominic stood in the kitchen doorway. He had taken off his suit jacket, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked exhausted, carrying the weight of a decade of betrayals.
He looked down at the train ticket and the note on the stainless steel counter.
He didn’t ask for permission. He walked over, picked them up, and read them.
His jaw tightened.
“Why does Rosa care about your mother, Claire?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, my voice shaking. “My mom cleaned Salerno’s office a decade ago. She never talked about it.”
Dominic stared at the date on the train ticket.
Then he looked at the hotel stationery.
“Ten years ago,” Dominic muttered, piecing the puzzle together. “Ten years ago was when my father died. He was found dead in Salerno’s office building. The police ruled it a massive heart attack.”
My blood ran cold.
“You think my mother was there?” I whispered.
“I think she saw who was actually in the room with him,” Dominic said.
He looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a terrifying realization.
“Rosa didn’t just kill my wife. She didn’t just poison Silvio. She killed my father to take control of the money, and framed Salerno to start a war.”
Dominic grabbed his suit jacket from the chair.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Thomas the waiter left this note for you,” Dominic said. “Which means Thomas knows the whole story. Rosa must have hired him tonight not knowing who he was. Thomas wasn't running away from the poisoning. He was running from Rosa's men.”
“Where would he go?”
Dominic looked at the train ticket.
“He bought you a ticket to Montreal. That means he’s likely taking the same route to disappear.”
He pulled his phone out, dialing a number.
“Ant, pull the car around. We’re going to Union Station. We have to find Thomas before Rosa’s men realize he double-crossed her.”
Dominic stopped at the door, turning back to me.
“You’re coming with us.”
“Me?” I gasped. “Why?”
“Because if Thomas is hiding, he won’t trust me or Anthony. He’ll only trust you. You need to convince him to talk.”
I looked at the shattered plates in the sink. I looked at the train ticket.
I thought about my mother, sitting in her small house, completely unaware that a mafia hit squad might be looking for her.
May you like
I took off my white apron, tossing it onto the counter.
“Let’s go,” I said.
