Chapter 2 - THE LOCKED DRAWER
Gabriel stared at the small silver key resting in his daughter’s palm.
The silence in the grand ballroom was absolute. Forty-eight elite guests held their breath, their champagne glasses suspended in mid-air.
"Isabella," Gabriel said. His voice didn't rise, but it carried a lethal edge that made the hairs on my arms stand up. "Give me your purse."
Isabella took a step back. The color had entirely drained from her perfectly contoured face. "Gabriel, be reasonable. The child is confused. She’s lashing out because—"
"Your purse. Now."
He didn't yell. He didn't have to. Two of Gabriel’s security men immediately stepped out from the shadows near the terrace doors, blocking the exits.
With shaking hands, Isabella handed over her designer clutch.
Gabriel unclasped it. He tipped the contents onto the glossy lid of the Steinway piano. A tube of lipstick, a compact, a diamond tennis bracelet, and a thick, folded stack of aged yellow paper secured with a rubber band.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
He reached for the papers. They were covered in his late wife’s familiar, elegant handwriting.
"Elena's trust documents," Gabriel said softly. "The shares for Sophie’s inheritance."
"I was keeping them safe!" Isabella blurted out, her voice pitching into a desperate shrill. "The estate manager said we needed to update the files before the wedding. I was trying to help you, Gabriel!"
Gabriel didn't look at her. He turned to me. "Hannah. Take Sophie up to her room. Pack a bag. She isn't spending another night in this house while this is sorted out."
I nodded quickly, taking Sophie’s trembling hand.
As we walked away, I heard Gabriel issue a quiet command to his men. "Escort Miss Marconi off my property. She leaves with exactly what she brought into my life. Nothing."
Isabella shrieked, but her voice was quickly muffled by the heavy oak doors closing behind us.
I guided Sophie up the sweeping marble staircase. My heart hammered against my ribs. I had just watched the most powerful man in Chicago dismantle his wedding in under three minutes.
Inside Sophie’s bedroom, I knelt in front of her.
Are you okay? I signed.
She nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out something else.
It wasn't a key this time.
It was a delicate, pearl-beaded rosary.
Mommy’s, she signed. Isabella dropped it in the hallway.
I took the rosary gently. But as the silver cross flipped over in my hand, I froze. There was an inscription on the back of the cross. It didn't say Elena.
It said: To Margaret.
Margaret. My mother’s name.
Before I could process what I was holding, the bedroom door swung open. Gabriel stood in the frame, his tuxedo jacket gone, his tie undone. He looked exhausted, dangerous, and completely focused.
He saw the rosary in my hands.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.
May you like
"Sophie found it," I said, my voice shaking. "Mr. DeLuca... this has my mother's name on it."
Gabriel stepped into the room and locked the door behind him. "I know. And we need to talk about what your mother was doing the night my wife died."
