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Chapter 3

The third-floor hallway was silent, save for the soft patter of rain against the skylights. Vincent walked ahead, his hands folded behind his back, while two heavily armed security guards flanked Dante, keeping him from moving an inch away.

Clara followed at a safe distance, holding little Ellie in her arms. The toddler rested her head on Clara’s shoulder, her pastel dress soft against her mother’s black-and-white apron.

Vincent pushed open the white door of the main linen closet. Fresh sheets and lavender-scented towels were stacked neatly along the shelves. He reached down to the lowest cedar drawer, pulling it entirely out of its frame.

Hidden in the hollow space beneath the floorboards was a dark red velvet pouch, coated in a light layer of dust.

Vincent reached down and picked up the pouch. He untied the silk drawstrings and tipped the contents into his palm.

Out fell a small, silver thumb drive and an old gold signet ring engraved with the crest of the rival syndicate from New York—the Falcone family.

Vincent stared at the signet ring. The blood seemed to drain from his face, replaced by a dark, lethal rage that made the air in the corridor grow suffocatingly heavy.

"Five years ago," Vincent whispered, turning to face Dante. "My right-hand man—Clara’s late husband, Marco—was ambushed on the interstate. The Falcones knew our exact route. I spent five years hunting the traitor who leaked that transport."

Dante took a step back, raising his hands in defense. "Vincent, listen to me! I was holding that evidence to track down Falcone's inside man! I was protecting the family!"

"You put this ring in my house," Vincent said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "You used Marco’s widow to hide the evidence of your own treason. You made her live in fear for three years so she wouldn't look inside this pouch."

Dante looked at Clara, his eyes wild with desperation. "She’s lying! She found that ring on the street! She’s trying to destroy our family!"

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Clara hugged Ellie tighter, her voice trembling but steady. "I didn't open the pouch, Mr. Moretti. But three months ago, I saw him put it in the wall late at night. When I asked him what it was, he slapped me and threatened my daughter."

Vincent’s dark eyes locked onto Dante. The atmosphere in the hallway turned deadly.

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