Chapter 2 - Upstairs, They Were Planning His Funeral
Lorenzo reached for the recorder.
I pulled it away.
“No.”
His eyes flashed.
“Give me that.”
“You’re losing blood.”
“My fiancée just ordered my murder.”
“And being angry won’t replace the blood.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You’re trying to stand.”
“That’s unrelated.”
He stood.
Then immediately grabbed the desk.
I crossed my arms.
Emma pointed at him.
“Mama said no.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
Emma stared back.
The man who intimidated half of Chicago sat down.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Your daughter is very persuasive.”
The recorder continued.
Marco’s voice said, “What about the maid?”
My blood went cold.
Isabella answered.
“Which maid?”
“Grace Bennett. Her kid wanders everywhere. If they saw anything—”
“They didn’t.”
“And if they did?”
A long silence followed.
Then Isabella said, “Handle it.”
Emma looked up at me.
“Mama?”
I stopped the recording.
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Something colder.
“You and Emma stay here.”
“No.”
“It’s the safest room.”
“They know my name.”
“They don’t know you’re here.”
“They’re searching the grounds. Eventually they’ll search this shed properly.”
He looked at the equipment.
“There may be another exit.”
We searched.
Behind a shelving unit, Lorenzo found a narrow maintenance passage.
“Where does it lead?” I asked.
“The old wine cellar, if my father’s original plans were accurate.”
“You said you didn’t know where this room was.”
“I knew the tunnels.”
“Your family is exhausting.”
“You’ve worked here four years.”
“Three.”
“You see? Exhausting.”
Despite everything, I nearly laughed.
Then a monitor flickered.
One of the cameras still worked.
The mansion ballroom appeared.
Dozens of Duca associates stood inside.
Marco was at the doors.
Vincent Duca, Lorenzo’s cousin, paced near the fireplace.
And Isabella stood in the center wearing a cream-colored dress.
She looked devastated.
Perfectly devastated.
“We have to prepare ourselves,” she told the room. “Lorenzo may already be dead.”
Vincent shook his head.
“You don’t know that.”
“They found blood.”
“No body.”
Marco stepped forward.
“My teams are searching.”
Isabella touched her mouth.
“Who would do this?”
Lorenzo watched silently.
I looked at him.
“She’s good.”
“She’s always been good.”
“You suspected her?”
“No.”
That answer hurt him more than the bullet.
Then Vincent said something unexpected.
“Lock down the property. Nobody leaves until Lorenzo is found.”
Isabella turned.
“That isn’t necessary.”
“It is if someone inside this house betrayed him.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
Vincent continued.
“And nobody assumes Lorenzo is dead until I see his body.”
Lorenzo leaned closer to the screen.
“Interesting.”
“You thought Vincent was involved?”
“He benefits from my death.”
“Apparently Isabella doesn’t trust him.”
“Or they’re performing for each other.”
Emma climbed onto the chair beside Lorenzo.
“Is that the mean lady?”
I looked at her.
“What mean lady?”
“She yelled at you.”
“When?”
“Kitchen.”
I remembered.
Three nights earlier, Isabella had found Emma coloring at the servants’ table.
Children weren’t usually allowed inside the main house during events, but my childcare had canceled.
Isabella had been furious.
Lorenzo had walked in halfway through.
He’d looked at Emma’s drawing and said, “Leave the kid alone.”
Isabella had never forgiven the embarrassment.
Emma pointed at the screen.
“She said Mr. Lorenzo should go away.”
Lorenzo turned.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
My stomach tightened.
“Emma, what exactly did you hear?”
She thought carefully.
“The mean lady talked to Mr. Marco.”
“What did she say?”
Emma whispered dramatically.
“Tomorrow Lorenzo goes away.”
Lorenzo and I exchanged a look.
A three-year-old had heard the murder plan.
And they knew she wandered the house.
That was why my name was on the recording.
Lorenzo stood again.
This time I didn’t stop him.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you and Emma out.”
“And you?”
“Ending this.”
“You can barely walk.”
“I have people I trust.”
“Marco was one of those people.”
His jaw tightened.
I continued.
“Your own security chief betrayed you. Until you know who else is involved, you trust nobody.”
“Then who do I trust?”
Emma raised her hand.
“Me.”
Silence.
Lorenzo looked down.
Then, incredibly, he smiled.
“You?”
Emma nodded.
“I have Band-Aids.”
He crouched as far as the wound allowed.
“That’s a compelling argument.”
Then he looked at me.
“And your mother?”
Emma considered.
“She has snacks.”
“I see.”
I grabbed the medical bag.
“Congratulations. That’s your team.”
A sudden bang came from above.
We froze.
The monitor showed Marco leaving the ballroom.
He was speaking into his radio.
“Search the garden shed again.”
Lorenzo looked toward the tunnel.
May you like
“Move.”
This time I didn’t argue.
