Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH
The dining room erupted into whispers.
Guests shifted uncomfortably.
Dominic’s brother, Vincent, had died in a car accident five years ago.
Or so everyone believed.
I stood frozen against the wall, my fingers digging into the fabric of my black apron.
I wasn’t supposed to be here for this.
I was just the maid.
But I was the maid who had stopped Dominic from drinking the coffee, and now, I couldn’t look away.
Dominic walked around the table.
He stopped in front of Matthew.
The boy was staring at the photograph, his small hands gripping the edge of the tablecloth.
“Matthew,” Dominic said gently.
The boy looked up.
“Have you seen your Uncle Vincent recently?”
Matthew hesitated.
He looked at Elena.
Elena shook her head slightly, a desperate, silent plea.
Matthew looked back at his father.
“He came to my school on Tuesday.”
The room went dead silent.
Dominic’s jaw tightened. “Vincent is alive. And he spoke to you.”
“He said it was a secret,” Matthew whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “He said he was in trouble and needed Elena’s help to get away.”
Dominic turned back to Elena.
She was sobbing now, her hands covering her face.
“He’s gambling again, Dominic,” Elena choked out. “He owes the Petrov syndicate three million dollars. They found out he faked his death. They told him if he didn’t pay, they would take Matthew.”
The stakes suddenly skyrocketed.
This wasn’t a runaway bride.
This was a kidnapping plot.
“So you were going to take Matthew to New York?” Dominic asked, his voice deceptively calm.
“I was trying to save him!” Elena cried. “Vincent said if I brought Matthew to the station tonight, the Petrovs would take the boy as collateral, and Vincent would disappear again. If you were awake, you would have started a war with the Petrovs. I didn’t want a war.”
“You were going to trade my son to the Russian syndicate to save my traitor brother.”
Dominic’s voice was absolute ice.
Elena stepped back. “They promised not to hurt him.”
Dominic looked at the two guards at the door.
“Take her to the basement.”
Elena screamed as the men grabbed her arms.
She thrashed, her red dress tearing as they dragged her out of the dining room.
The guests were terrified.
Dominic turned to them.
“Dinner is over. Nobody leaves this house tonight. The gates are locked.”
He looked at me.
“Grace.”
I jumped. “Yes, sir.”
“Take Matthew to his room. Lock the door. Do not let anyone inside except me.”
“Yes, sir.”
I walked over to the boy.
He was shaking.
I gently took his hand. It was cold.
“Come on, sweetie,” I murmured. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I led him out of the dining room and up the grand staircase.
The house suddenly felt like a fortress. Men in dark suits were moving quickly through the halls, checking windows, racking shotguns.
We reached Matthew’s room.
I closed the heavy wooden door and locked the deadbolt.
I turned around.
Matthew was sitting on the edge of his bed.
He wasn’t crying anymore.
He looked up at me.
And the Reversal hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe.
“Elena was lying,” Matthew said softly.
I froze. “What do you mean, honey?”
Matthew reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a heavy, men’s silver watch.
“Uncle Vincent didn’t say the Petrovs wanted me,” Matthew said, tracing the glass of the watch. “He said my dad was the bad guy. And he said he needed me to bring him this.”
He held the watch out to me.
I walked over and took it.
It was heavy. Antique.
But it wasn’t ticking.
I turned it over.
The back of the watch was loose.
I pried it open with my thumbnail.
Inside, there were no gears.
It was hollow.
And stuffed inside the casing was a small, tightly rolled piece of paper with a list of offshore bank accounts and passwords.
“Matthew,” I whispered, my heart pounding. “Where did your Uncle Vincent tell you to find this watch?”
May you like
Matthew pointed to the floor.
“In Elena’s underwear drawer.”
