POUR HIM THE CHAMPAGNE, CLAIRE! IF HE CAN’T HANDLE ONE LITTLE TOAST, HE HAS NO BUSINESS SITTING AT MY ENGAGEMENT DINNER!” THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 34-YEAR-OLD BROTHER FOR REFUSING A DRINK IN FRONT OF FORTY GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE HOUSEMAID QUIETLY REMOVED THE GLASS AND THE YOUNGER

Chapter 2 – THE DRAWING IN THE PURSE

My hands shook as I read the words on the back of the child’s drawing.

Elena wasn’t hiding. She was being hidden. And she was extorting Victoria.

“Mr. Romano,” I said, my voice cutting through the chaotic murmur of the departing guests.

Gabriel turned toward me.

I didn’t hesitate. I walked past the remaining wealthy socialites and handed the drawing directly to him.

“This fell out of Mrs. Langford’s purse.”

Gabriel took the paper. His dark eyes scanned the blue crayon drawing, then flipped it over.

He read the note.

The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Daniel wiped his face, stepping closer. “Gabe? What is it?”

Gabriel handed the paper to his brother.

Daniel stared at the drawing. His thumb gently traced the clumsy letters spelling For Daddy. A fresh tear slipped down his cheek. It was the first time he was holding something his son had created.

Then he flipped it over.

Daniel frowned. “Elena wrote this? She’s asking Victoria for money?”

Gabriel shook his head. “That’s not Elena’s handwriting.”

Daniel looked up. “How do you know?”

“Because Elena was left-handed,” Gabriel said smoothly. “Her script sloped backward. This leans forward. Someone else wrote this.”

He turned to his lead security guard, standing by the door.

“Lock down the estate. Do not let Victoria leave.”

“Yes, boss.”

Gabriel looked back at the drawing. “Answer one question, open two,” he murmured to himself. “If Elena didn’t write the note, who is Victoria paying?”

“And how did they get a drawing from my son?” Daniel asked, panic rising in his chest.

Before Gabriel could answer, the security guard returned. He looked nervous.

“Boss. Victoria isn’t in her room. She slipped out through the service entrance.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “Track her car.”

“She didn’t take her car. She ordered a private car service ten minutes ago.”

Daniel grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. He didn’t look like a broken man anymore. He looked like a father whose child was in danger.

“She’s going to them, Gabe. Whoever is holding my son, she’s going there right now.”

“Claire,” Gabriel said, turning to me. “Bring Victoria’s purse to my study. Now.”

I followed the two men down the long, shadowed hallway into Gabriel’s private office. He closed the heavy oak doors, shutting out the rest of the world.

Gabriel dumped the contents of the designer clutch onto his massive mahogany desk.

Lipstick. A compact mirror. A diamond bracelet.

And a small stack of folded receipts.

Gabriel sifted through them rapidly. He stopped at a pink carbon copy.

“A wire transfer,” Gabriel said, his eyes narrowing. “Sent yesterday afternoon.”

Daniel leaned over the desk. “To who?”

“An account registered to a Marcus Langford.”

Daniel went entirely still. “Her brother.”

Gabriel looked up. “Marcus has been running a struggling real estate firm in upstate New York. He’s been near bankruptcy for two years.”

“Victoria didn’t just convince our father to pay Elena to leave,” Daniel realized, his voice trembling with rage. “She had Marcus intercept her. She’s been keeping Elena and my son as prisoners so I would never find out.”

I looked at the wire transfer receipt.

“Mr. Romano,” I pointed at the bottom of the slip. “Look at the routing location.”

Gabriel followed my finger.

The funds were wired to a local bank in a town called Lakeview, Illinois.

It wasn’t in New York. It was less than two hours outside of Chicago.

Gabriel pulled a small, silver object from his pocket. A heavy, antique pocket watch. He snapped it open to check the time. It was 9:45 PM.

“She’s heading to Lakeview tonight,” Gabriel said, closing the watch with a sharp click. “To pay Marcus off and move the boy before we can find them.”

Daniel headed for the door. “I’m driving.”

“Wait,” Gabriel commanded.

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a sleek, black handgun. He checked the magazine and slid it into his shoulder holster.

Daniel stopped. “Gabe, no violence. Not around my son.”

Gabriel looked at his younger brother. His eyes softened, but his posture remained rigid.

“I am not going to shoot anyone, Danny. But Marcus Langford is a desperate man who has been holding my nephew hostage. I am going to make sure he understands exactly who he stole from.”

Gabriel walked toward the door, but stopped when he looked at me.

“Claire.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You noticed the routing number. You’re observant.” He paused. “Lakeview is your hometown, isn’t it? I remember it from your employment file.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes, Mr. Romano. I grew up there.”

Gabriel’s eyes locked onto mine.

“Then you know the back roads better than a GPS. Get your coat. You’re coming with us.”

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