Chapter 4 - THE SILVER WATCH
My hands shook as I held the heavy silver watch.
Answer one, open two.
Elena hadn’t been blackmailed by Vincent to trade Matthew.
Elena and Vincent were working together.
They were stealing from Dominic.
The bank accounts written on that tiny piece of paper represented millions of dollars. The syndicate’s emergency funds.
Elena wasn’t trying to save Matthew from the Russians. She was using the boy as a mule to smuggle the account codes out of the house, knowing Dominic’s guards would never search his own son.
She was going to drug Dominic, take the boy, drain the accounts in New York, and disappear with Vincent.
I looked down at Matthew.
He was just eleven years old. Innocent. Trapped in a world of monsters.
“Did anyone else know you had this watch?” I asked quietly.
Matthew shook his head. “No. Elena told me to keep it hidden until we got on the train.”
I had to tell Dominic.
I walked to the bedroom door and unlocked it.
I cracked it open, intending to call for one of the guards in the hallway.
The hallway was empty.
That wasn’t right.
Dominic had locked down the house. There should have been at least two men posted outside his son’s door.
A cold prickle of dread ran down my spine.
I stepped out into the hall.
The lights flickered.
Then, the entire house went pitch black.
Someone had cut the power.
I heard a scream from downstairs. A woman’s voice. One of the guests.
Then, the deafening sound of shattering glass.
They were breaching the house.
I rushed back into Matthew’s room and locked the door.
“Grace? What’s happening?” Matthew asked, his voice trembling in the dark.
“Hide under the bed,” I ordered, dropping to my knees. “Right now. Do not make a sound.”
Matthew scrambled under the heavy oak frame.
I grabbed the only weapon I could find—a heavy brass lamp from the nightstand.
I stood by the door, listening.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the carpeted stairs.
They were moving fast. Coordinated.
Not a chaotic break-in. A tactical strike.
A heavy fist pounded on Matthew’s door.
“Open up!” a deep voice yelled.
I didn’t breathe.
The handle rattled violently.
Then, a massive crash as a boot kicked the door.
The wood splintered.
Another kick, and the door flew open, hitting the wall.
A man stepped into the dark room.
He had a flashlight mounted on a suppressed pistol. The beam swept across the bed.
He was looking for the boy.
I didn’t think. I just swung.
I brought the heavy brass lamp down as hard as I could onto the back of the man’s head.
He grunted, dropping his gun, and collapsed to the floor.
I stood there in the dark, gasping for air, my hands slick with sweat.
I had just knocked out a cartel hitman.
I grabbed his dropped flashlight.
I shined it on his face.
The Reversal hit me like a physical blow.
It wasn’t a Russian hitman.
It wasn’t one of Vincent’s thugs.
The man bleeding on the floor was wearing a crisp white uniform shirt.
He was one of Dominic’s own security guards. The one who usually drove the armored SUV.
An inside job.
Dominic’s own men were betraying him.
Before I could process it, another set of footsteps rushed down the hall.
“Matthew!” Dominic’s voice roared in the darkness.
“In here!” I yelled.
Dominic appeared in the doorway. He had a gun in his hand and a bloody cut across his cheek.
He looked at the unconscious guard on the floor. Then at the brass lamp in my hands.
“He kicked the door in,” I said, my voice shaking violently. “He was one of your men.”
Dominic’s face turned into a mask of pure, terrifying rage.
“Half the security detail just turned on me,” Dominic said, pulling me into the hallway. “Vincent bought them off. They’re trying to trap us in the house.”
“Dominic, wait,” I said, reaching into my apron.
I pulled out the heavy silver watch and the rolled-up piece of paper.
I shined the flashlight on it.
“Elena wasn’t giving Matthew to the Russians. She was using him to smuggle this out. It’s your account codes.”
Dominic stared at the paper.
He looked at me, a profound sense of awe crossing his harsh features.
“You just saved my empire, Grace,” he whispered.
He reached out and gently touched my arm. A fleeting, intense connection in the dark.
But the moment shattered.
Down the hall, a familiar voice echoed from the shadows.
“I’ll be taking that watch, Dominic.”
A flashlight beam hit us, blinding me.
Behind the light was a man holding a shotgun.
It was Dominic’s uncle.
May you like
Uncle Paul.
And he wasn’t alone. He was holding my mother by the throat.
