Chapter 4 - THE DINNER OF SNAKES
By eight o'clock that evening, the Vale mansion was crawling with armed men.
Blacked-out SUVs filled the circular driveway, their engines idling in the rain. In the formal dining room downstairs, beneath a massive crystal chandelier, five of the most powerful syndicate bosses in the Midwest sat around a long mahogany table.
Dominic sat at the head of the table, looking like an emperor surrounded by wolves. Frankie Vane stood right behind his right shoulder, serving as his silent shadow.
Upstairs, I sat on the floor of the nursery, trying to draw pictures with Noah using colored pencils. But my mind was spinning out of control.
If I went to Dominic right now with Noah's story, would he believe me? Or would he think I was a crazy cleaning girl trying to make up stories to get more money? Frankie had been Dominic’s loyal lieutenant for twenty years. If I made an accusation without undeniable physical proof, Frankie would kill me and Tyler before the sun came up.
I needed proof.
"Noah," I whispered, leaning down close to him. "Where did Mommy keep the big red bag?"
Noah looked up from his coloring book. He tapped his crayon against his chin, thinking hard.
"In the dark closet," Noah whispered. "Under the floorboards where the wood makes a squeak sound."
My heart did a flip.
"Stay here, sweetie," I murmured. "Don't leave this room."
I stood up and slipped out of the nursery into the dark, quiet corridor of the north wing.
The north wing had been locked and off-limits ever since Julianna’s death. But tonight, with all the guards stationed downstairs to protect the syndicate meeting, the hallway was deserted.
I pulled a small hairpin from my hair and approached the heavy oak double doors of the master suite. My hands were shaking violently as I jammed the pin into the lock, twisting it the way my street-smart older cousin had taught me years ago.
Click.
The heavy lock gave way. I slid through the crack and pulled the door shut behind me.
The master bedroom was frozen in time. A thick layer of dust covered the grand four-poster bed, the velvet armchairs, and the polished vanity table. Photos of a beautiful blonde woman—Julianna—smiled down from the walls in gilded frames.
I moved quickly toward the massive walk-in closet at the back of the room.
Inside, row upon row of designer dresses and fur coats hung in silence. I dropped to my knees near the back wall, feeling along the dark oak floorboards until my fingers hit a loose plank that creaked faintly under my pressure.
I wedged my fingernails under the wood and pulled.
The plank lifted up, revealing a dark, square hidden compartment beneath the floor.
Inside sat a small, red leather duffel bag.
My breathing hitched. I reached down and pulled the bag out into the dim light filtering from the bedroom. I unzipped the main compartment.
Inside were three stacks of bound hundred-dollar bills, two forged passports for Julianna and Noah under different names, and a small, encrypted USB flash drive tucked into a side pocket.
Attached to the flash drive was a handwritten sticky note in elegant cursive handwriting:
“Dominic—If you are reading this, it means Frankie found out. He has been selling your freight routes to the Moretti family for two years. He knows I have the ledgers. He told me if I don't leave tonight, he will make Noah pay. Don't trust him. - J.”
Tears burned the backs of my eyes.
Julianna hadn't been running away because she hated Dominic. She had been running away to protect her son from Frankie Vane.
CLACK.
The sound of a gun cocking shattered the quiet closet.
"You really are a curious little rat, aren't you, Clara?"
May you like
I turned my head slowly.
Frankie Vane stood in the doorway of the closet, holding a silenced 9mm pistol pointed directly at my chest. His silver rings glinted menacingly in the dim light.
