Chapter 4 - THE BOY IN THE SHADOWS
The dining room erupted into chaos.
Guests shoved their chairs back, desperate to distance themselves from the table.
The engagement dinner had devolved into a hostage situation of secrets.
Dante didn’t move.
He stared at the photograph of the five-year-old boy.
His nephew. His blood.
He slowly lifted his eyes to Camille.
“You took him.”
Camille’s mask of terror was entirely gone.
She straightened her posture, smoothing the front of her expensive silk dress. The corner of her mouth twitched into a cold, arrogant smile.
“I’ve known about the boy for six months. You really think a widow can hide a Caruso heir forever?”
Marco, Dante’s massive head of security, stepped forward, his hand resting on the holstered weapon beneath his jacket.
“Give the word, boss.”
“Lock the doors,” Dante said, his voice eerily calm.
“Nobody leaves this room. Not my father. Not the guests. Nobody.”
Heavy oak doors slammed shut. The metallic click of deadbolts echoed through the mansion.
Panic flared among the elite crowd, but Marco’s men stood like statues blocking every exit.
Sarah grabbed Dante’s arm.
“Dante, please. They took Leo from his school three hours ago. Camille called me. She said if I didn’t come here tonight and confess to driving the car that killed Daniel, she would make my son disappear.”
Dante looked at his fiancée.
“You wanted her to take the fall publicly.”
“She owed me,” Camille snapped.
“Your father ruined my life. I lost my reputation because of that night. If Sarah took the blame, your father’s blackmail material on me would be useless. And I would finally secure my place in this family.”
She looked at her diamond watch.
“I have a team holding the boy at an undisclosed location. If I don’t text them a specific code in exactly ten minutes, they will put him on a private plane to South America. You will never see him again.”
Dante stepped around the table.
He walked until he was inches from Camille’s face.
“If you touch one hair on my brother’s child, I will tear you apart with my bare hands.”
Camille didn’t flinch.
“Then tell your security to step down. Give me my phone, and let me walk out the front door. Once I’m safe, I’ll tell you where he is.”
Dante stood frozen.
For the first time since I started working for him, the untouchable mafia boss had no leverage.
He couldn’t risk the boy.
My heart pounded against my ribs.
I looked at Camille. I looked at the diamond clutch sitting on the table.
Her phone wasn’t in it.
I remembered earlier that evening, when Camille had arrived. She had handed her heavy winter coat to me.
And I had heard a distinct buzz from the pocket before I hung it in the coatroom.
Her phone was still in her coat.
I took a slow, quiet step backward.
The room was completely focused on the standoff between Dante and Camille. Nobody was looking at the housekeeper in the corner.
I slipped through the small service door that led to the kitchen corridor, pulling it shut behind me.
I ran.
My flat shoes made no sound on the marble floors as I sprinted down the back hallway toward the front coatroom.
I pushed the heavy velvet curtain aside.
Dozens of expensive coats hung in the dim light.
I frantically searched for Camille’s white cashmere trench coat.
There.
I reached into the deep pocket.
My fingers brushed against cold metal.
A phone.
I pulled it out.
The screen was locked, but a notification was sitting brightly on the display.
A text message from an unsaved number.
Package secured. Holding at the marina warehouse. Awaiting your signal.
The marina.
Before I could memorize the number, a massive hand clamped over my mouth.
I screamed into a leather glove as a strong arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me off the ground.
“Quiet,” a deep voice hissed in my ear.
It was Marco.
The head of security.
I kicked wildly, trying to break free, terrified that Marco was working for Camille.
But Marco didn’t hurt me. He gently set me down and removed his hand.
“You shouldn’t be out here, Megan,” Marco said, taking the phone from my trembling hands.
He looked at the screen.
He didn’t look surprised.
“You knew,” I breathed, stepping back.
Marco crushed the expensive phone in his massive fist. The glass shattered into his palm.
“I’ve known where the boy is for three hours,” Marco said quietly.
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“I didn’t lock the doors to keep Camille in. I locked them to keep her men out.”
TITLE: The Price Of A Life
