Chapter 4 - The Syringe
Emma’s breath hitched in her throat. The heavy gun wobbled in her trembling hands.
Mrs. Voss froze in the doorway, staring at the barrel aimed at her chest. The head housekeeper’s eyes flicked to the empty room, noticing Alessandro’s absence.
"Where is he?" Mrs. Voss demanded, her voice tight with panic.
"Don't move," Emma stammered, gripping the gun tighter. "Drop that."
Mrs. Voss looked down at the syringe in her hand. A cruel, desperate sneer twisted her features. "You stupid girl. You think you’re a hero? Julian is downstairs right now with his security team. Alessandro isn't coming back."
"Drop it!" Emma ordered, her voice cracking.
"This is potassium chloride," Mrs. Voss said coldly, taking a slow step into the room. "It causes immediate cardiac arrest. Untraceable. Julian pays me very well to keep this house clean, Emma. And right now, the old man is making a mess."
From the wheelchair, the little brass bell chimed frantically.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Thomas was staring at the needle, his frail body trembling. He knew exactly what she had come to do.
"Shut him up!" Mrs. Voss hissed, lunging forward.
Emma didn't think. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed bedroom.
The recoil threw Emma backward, her pregnant belly knocking against the edge of the dresser. She gasped, opening her eyes.
She had missed. The bullet shattered a large mirror on the wall, raining glass across the Persian rug.
But the noise was enough. Mrs. Voss shrieked, dropping the syringe as she scrambled backward out of the room, terrified by the explosive sound.
"You're dead!" Mrs. Voss screamed from the hallway. "Julian will kill you both!"
Emma didn't wait. she dropped the gun, ran to the heavy oak door, and slammed it shut, throwing the deadbolt from the inside this time. She leaned against the wood, her whole body shaking violently, tears streaming down her face.
She looked over at Thomas.
He was staring at her, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked down at the brass bell, then slowly moved his shaking finger to push it away. He didn't need it right now.
He needed her to look at his hands.
Emma walked over to him, her knees weak. "It's okay, Mr. Thomas. She's gone."
But Thomas wasn't calming down. He was using his one good finger to point aggressively at the hollowed-out Bible resting on his lap. Then, he pointed to the floor.
"The floor?" Emma asked, confused.
He pointed to the Bible again, then to the floor beneath his wheelchair.
Emma knelt down awkwardly, her large belly making it difficult to bend. She looked under the chair. There was nothing but the intricate pattern of the Persian rug.
Thomas groaned, a frustrated, guttural sound, and dragged his foot across the rug, bunching it up.
Emma reached out and pulled the heavy rug back.
Beneath it was a solid oak floorboard. But unlike the others, this one had a tiny, almost invisible notch carved into the edge.
"A hiding place," Emma breathed.
She grabbed a letter opener from the bedside table and wedged it into the notch. With a sharp crack, the floorboard popped up.
Emma reached into the dark cavity and pulled out a small, velvet pouch.
She stood up and opened it.
Inside was a beautiful, antique silver locket. It was heavy, covered in delicate engravings of roses.
Thomas stared at the locket, tears instantly welling in his eyes.
Emma opened the clasp. Inside was a small black-and-white photograph of a beautiful woman holding a baby. Alessandro’s mother.
But tucked behind the photograph was something else. A small, tightly folded piece of paper.
Emma unfolded it.
It wasn't a confession. It was a birth certificate.
She read the name. Then the date. Then the mother’s name.
Her heart stopped. The blood drained completely from her face.
"Mr. Thomas," Emma whispered, staring at the frail old man in absolute horror. "This... this is my mother’s name."
She looked at the date again. Twenty-six years ago.
"This is my birth certificate," Emma said, her voice barely a breath. "Why do you have my birth certificate?"
Thomas looked at her, his eyes filled with a profound, crushing sorrow. He slowly raised his trembling finger and pointed directly at his own chest.
Before Emma could even process the impossible truth he was telling her, a massive explosion rocked the foundation of the Carbone estate.
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The floor shook violently. The windows rattled in their frames.
The explosion had come from the basement. Where Alessandro was.
