Chapter 13
For the next three days, the Greenwich mansion operated under a suffocating, invisible siege. Nora, blissfully unaware of the impending danger, continued her routines. She still carried a yellow purse—though slightly larger than her toddler version—and a real, heavily encrypted phone, mirroring her uncle's executive habits.
Late on a Tuesday evening, rain lashed against the high stone walls surrounding the estate. Inside the east wing conservatory, filled with tropical plants and marble fountains, Adrian sat on a wicker sofa. In his broad, tattooed hand, he held James’s antique silver lighter. He flicked the top open and closed with a sharp, rhythmic clack-click, clack-click, staring blindly at the engraved Cole family crest.
Emma walked in quietly, carrying two glasses of bourbon. She handed one to Adrian and sat beside him. The unspoken bond between them had deepened into a profound, complex love over the years. They were bound by their shared grief for James and their fierce, uncompromising devotion to Nora.
"You haven't slept in three days, Adrian," Emma noted softly, placing a comforting hand on his forearm.
"James wanted out of the syndicate," Adrian murmured, his deep voice heavy with exhaustion. "He was gentle. He wanted peace. I spent six months hunting down the men connected to his death. I thought I killed everyone involved. But this watch... it means someone survived. Someone who took his personal effects on the night he died."
Emma looked at the silver lighter in his hand. The crude initials J.C. and the date 09-12-2022 were deeply etched into the casing. "The night before he died, he gave me this lighter to keep our baby safe," Emma whispered. "He told me not to let the syndicate swallow her whole. Adrian, what if there was another reason he gave it to me?"
Adrian’s intense eyes locked onto hers. He stopped flipping the lighter.
"What do you mean?" Adrian asked.
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"James knew he was in grave danger. He knew the Chicago outfit was closing in. What if the lighter wasn't just a keepsake?" Emma’s mind raced. "What if he hid something in it?"
Adrian looked down at the heavy, vintage silver casing. He had carried it for four years since Nora had gifted it back to him at the breakfast table, but he had never truly examined its internal mechanics.
