Chapter 2
“I don’t know yet.”
“Who knows?”
“You and me.”
Julian nodded.
“I’ll do it myself.”
The following morning, Dante entered the kitchen at 7:25.
Emma was slicing apples for Lily.
At 7:30, the private elevator opened.
Julian walked out holding a tablet and two coffees.
“Morning.”
Dante looked up.
Then his eyes stopped.
There was a narrow adhesive strip beneath Julian’s lower lip.
Directly over the center of his chin.
A red stain showed through it.
Dante’s gaze lingered.
Julian touched the bandage and smiled.
“Cut myself shaving.”
Behind the kitchen island, Emma dropped the knife.
Metal struck marble.
Julian glanced at her.
Emma bent quickly.
“Sorry.”
Dante looked from her to Julian.
His old friend.
The man who had bled for him.
The man whose chin now carried the exact mark drawn by a frightened five-year-old.
And for the first time in thirteen years, Dante wondered whether loyalty was simply betrayal that had not yet found the right price.
He said nothing.
But under the table, he unfolded Lily’s drawing with one hand.
The red crayon mark sat exactly where Julian’s bandage did.
That was when Dante understood something far worse.
If Lily was telling the truth, the danger had not entered his house.
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The danger already had keys.
For the next two days,.....
