Chapter 1
"Don't open that box! He put something inside!"" the terrified scream came from my maid's five-year-old daughter, interrupting my lavish celebration in front of 200 guests. I thought she was simply a frightened child until she pointed toward the man i trusted more than anyone in the world and revealed six words that made my blood run cold.
The violin stopped playing.
I stared at the black lacquered box, its dark red ribbon tied with suspicious perfection. Slowly, I lowered it onto the table.
“Who said that?” I demanded.
Near the dessert table stood Sophie Alvarez, the five-year-old daughter of my maid, Clara. Her oversized yellow dress was pinned at the shoulders, and tears glistened beneath her frightened eyes.
“Please, Uncle Dante,” she whispered. “Don't touch it.”
Behind me, Marcus Valente shifted nervously.
Marcus. My right-hand man. The one person I believed would never betray me.
I ignored him and walked toward Sophie as 200 guests watched in stunned silence.
Then I did something no one expected.
I knelt before a maid's daughter.
“Sweetheart,” I said gently, fighting to control the fury rising inside me. “Tell me why I shouldn't open that box.”
Her tiny hands trembled.
“I lost my blue ribbon,” she whispered. “Mama put it in my hair this morning. I went looking behind the big red curtains in the room with all the paintings.”
The east gallery.
“I heard footsteps, so I hid. I wasn't supposed to be there.”
“Who came in, Sophie?”
She swallowed hard.
“Uncle Marcus.”
My jaw tightened.
“He had a black box. He opened it and put something silver inside. It looked like Mama's watch battery, only longer.”
I stopped breathing for a moment.
“Then what happened?”
“He took out his phone,” she whispered. “He said, ‘Just open it, and everything ends.’ He said it twice.”
My fingers curled into fists.
“And the ribbon?”
Sophie looked directly into my eyes.
“He tied the red ribbon around the box, Uncle Dante. The same one on your table.”
A terrible silence settled between us.
I gently wiped a smear of frosting from her ear.
“You're a brave little girl,” I whispered. “Now go find your mama. Tell her I said you're the most important guest here.”
She nodded and hurried toward the kitchen.
I rose slowly.
Across the ballroom, Marcus stood beside the gift table, watching me.
The black box remained untouched.
And as I stared at the man who had stood beside me through years of bloodshed and betrayal, one question burned through my mind.
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Had my most trusted friend just tried to murder me in front of 200 witnesses?
Then Marcus reached toward the box.
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