Chapter 3 – THE TICKET ON THE BED

I froze at the top of the stairs.

Emma squeezed my hand, terrified.

The man in her bedroom was tall, wearing a heavy black coat, and holding a small leather duffel bag.

He was rummaging through Emma’s dresser drawers.

I didn’t think. I just acted.

I pushed Emma behind me, shielding her body with mine.

“Hey!” I shouted, my voice echoing down the massive hallway. “What are you doing?!”

The man snapped his head toward us.

When he realized we weren’t security, he didn’t run.

Instead, he casually tossed the duffel bag onto Emma’s bed and walked toward us with a cold, terrifying smile.

“I’m just packing her things,” the man said smoothly.

“Who are you?” I demanded, backing up slowly, keeping Emma safely behind me.

“I’m Vanessa’s brother,” the man replied. “And my sister called me five minutes ago. She said the engagement is off, and we need to accelerate the timeline.”

My stomach dropped.

“What timeline?” I asked.

He reached into his heavy coat.

I thought he was going to pull out a weapon.

Instead, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and tossed it onto the hardwood floor at my feet.

“The timeline for the little brat’s departure,” he sneered.

I kept my eyes on him, but I slowly crouched down and picked up the paper.

It was a boarding pass.

A one-way ticket to a private, highly restrictive disciplinary boarding school in Switzerland.

The flight was scheduled for 6:00 AM tomorrow.

The passenger name was Emma Moretti.

“Vanessa wasn’t just trying to get rid of the cats,” I realized aloud, the horror washing over me. “She was trying to test if she could get rid of Emma without Luca stopping her.”

The man laughed.

“My sister doesn’t want to be a stepmother. She wants the Moretti empire. And the empire belongs to the sole heir. Unless the heir is deemed mentally unstable and shipped off to a facility.”

Emma began to cry, burying her face against my back.

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” I said fiercely.

“I have a signed medical authorization from Vanessa,” he said, stepping closer. “She convinced Luca to give her medical proxy last month. I’m taking the girl to the airport tonight.”

He reached out to grab Emma.

I didn’t have a weapon. I didn’t have security training.

But I had spent my whole life protecting my sick mother.

I wasn’t going to let this man take a ten-year-old child.

I grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from the hallway table and swung it as hard as I could.

It cracked across his jaw.

The man stumbled backward, swearing loudly.

“Run, Emma!” I screamed.

We sprinted down the opposite end of the hallway, toward Luca’s private office.

The man recovered quickly and chased after us, his heavy boots pounding on the carpet.

We burst into Luca’s office and I slammed the heavy oak door shut, locking the deadbolt just as the man slammed his weight against it.

“Open the door, you stupid maid!” he roared from the hallway.

Emma was sobbing hysterically on the floor, holding Pip tightly.

I ran to Luca’s desk, looking for a phone to call security.

But the phone line had been cut.

The man started kicking the door. The wood began to splinter.

I frantically pulled open Luca’s desk drawers, looking for anything to defend us.

In the bottom drawer, hidden beneath a stack of files, I found a small metal lockbox.

It was already popped open.

Inside wasn’t a gun.

It was a stack of psychiatric evaluations with Vanessa’s name on them. And a handwritten note that read: “She caused the crash. You have to stop her.”