Chapter 5 - The Silver Relic
Adrian pushed the strange, phantom memory to the back of his mind, convincing himself it was merely a coincidence. He reached out with a large, tattooed hand, gently lifting the heavy black tie off Nora’s small chest so it wouldn't trip her again.
"If you're going to be the boss, you need to keep your desk organized," Adrian said playfully, gesturing toward her tiny yellow purse. "What do you have in there anyway? Secret files?"
"No," Nora chirped proudly, her cheerful demeanor returning instantly. "My purse has important things."
"Show me," Adrian invited, keeping his crouching stance, enjoying the rare moment of lightheartedness in a life defined by violence and strategy.
Nora eagerly unclipped the plastic latch of her yellow toy purse. She reached her small hand inside, rummaging past a plastic lipstick and her pink toy phone.
"I have this," Nora announced, pulling out a solid, heavy object and holding it out in the palm of her tiny hand.
The amber chandelier light caught the polished surface of the item, sending a bright, metallic reflection across Adrian’s face.
Adrian’s smile vanished instantly.
The warmth drained from his dark features in a fraction of a second, replaced by a sudden, terrifying stillness. His body went entirely rigid, the broad muscles of his shoulders locking up beneath his black shirt. His pale eyes widened, staring at the object resting in the child’s tiny palm.
It was an antique silver flip-top lighter.
The metal was heavy, vintage, and worn at the edges from years of use. Etched deep into the front of the polished silver was an ornate, unmistakable crest: a striking falcon holding a dagger within a shield. It was the Cole family crest—a symbol reserved exclusively for blood members of the lineage.
Adrian knew that lighter intimately. It was not his. He carried a sleek, black custom lighter.
This specific silver lighter had belonged to his younger brother, James. It was James’s prized possession, an heirloom given to him on his twenty-first birthday. James had carried it everywhere, flicking it open during syndicate meetings, using it to light his cigars, tapping it against wooden tables when he was deep in thought. On the night James was killed in a tragic, mysterious car crash three years ago, his personal belongings had been scattered, and this lighter had vanished without a trace.
Yet here it was, resting in the tiny, rose-tinted palm of his housekeeper’s three-year-old daughter.
The atmosphere in the grand foyer plummeted into a dangerous, suffocating freeze. The four guards, sensing the instant, violent shift in their Boss’s demeanor, reached instinctively toward their jackets, their eyes darting around the room.
May you like
Across the foyer, Emma looked as if she were about to faint. She gripped the edge of the marble pillar, her knuckles white, her breathing shallow and frantic. She realized, with a wave of sickening horror, what Nora had just pulled from her purse.
"Where..." Adrian began, his voice no longer gentle, but a low, dangerous rumble that sounded like grinding tectonic plates. "...where did you get that?"
