Chapter 2 – THE NAME ENGRAVED IN THE METAL

I pulled my hand from my apron.

Between my fingers dangled a heavy, antique silver key on a tarnished chain.

It didn’t look like a key to a house or a car.

It looked like it belonged to a vault.

Sebastian stared at it.

He reached out, his large hand shaking slightly as his fingertips brushed the metal.

“I haven’t seen this since the morning she died.”

“Don’t touch it, Sebastian!” Bianca snapped, dropping her elegant facade.

She marched toward us, her burgundy gown sweeping the floor.

“That key doesn’t belong to your mother anymore. It belongs to the Laurent family.”

The entire room of guests gasped.

Sebastian slowly looked up at his fiancée.

“Why would my mother’s vault key belong to your family?”

Bianca lifted her chin.

“Because your mother didn’t die of a sudden heart attack, Sebastian. We all know that. She was collateral damage in a business deal gone wrong.”

Florence let out a quiet sob.

I instinctively stepped in front of the old woman, shielding her.

“You’re lying,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, deadly calm.

“Am I?” Bianca sneered. “Look at the back of the key, Grace. Read what’s engraved on it.”

My hands trembled.

I flipped the heavy silver key over.

There, stamped into the ancient metal, were two words.

I swallowed hard.

“It says… Laurent Trust.”

Sebastian took a step back, as if he had been shot.

For twenty-four years, he believed his mother was an innocent victim of a rival mob’s bullet.

Now, the very key she had hidden away bore the name of his fiancée’s family.

“She wasn’t a victim, Sebastian,” Bianca said softly, a cruel smile returning to her lips. “Your mother was working for my father. She was going to leave your dad. She was going to take you and run.”

“No!” Florence cried out. “Don’t listen to her!”

Bianca snapped her fingers.

Two large men in suits stepped out from the shadows of the hallway.

“Take the key from the maid,” Bianca ordered. “And lock the old woman in the cellar.”

Sebastian stepped directly in front of me, shielding both me and Florence.

He pulled a heavy, black handgun from his tuxedo jacket.

“Nobody touches them.”

But Bianca didn’t look afraid.

She looked at me with dead eyes.

“Grace, if you don’t hand me that key right now, I’ll make a phone call. And your sister will never see her two children again.”

My blood ran ice cold.

“How do you know about my sister?” I whispered.

Bianca smiled.

“Who do you think has been paying her husband to stay away?”

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