Chapter 2 – THE MUDDY RIDGE AND THE CAR KEYS

The rain battered against us as the bodyguard kept the rifle leveled at Roman’s chest.

“Victoria ordered you to hunt down a nineteen-year-old girl?” Roman’s voice cut through the storm, colder than the rain.

“Miss Hale told me to fix a problem,” the guard sneered, wiping water from his eyes. “If you find the kid first, the merger is off. I don’t get paid if the merger is off.”

I stood frozen in the mud. I was just a maid. I made beds and polished silver. I had a younger brother in college whose tuition I paid every month. I couldn’t die in these woods.

Roman slowly raised his hands, the silver bracelet dangling from his fingers.

“You think Victoria is going to pay you?” Roman asked, taking a slow, deliberate step up the muddy embankment. “She’s packing her bags right now. Her father is going to cut her off for losing the DeLuca alliance.”

“Stop moving!” the guard yelled, his finger tightening on the trigger.

I saw my opening.

The guard’s focus was entirely on the mafia boss. He didn’t care about the maid holding a heavy, metal flashlight.

I gripped the flashlight with both hands, lunged forward up the slippery slope, and swung it as hard as I could at the guard’s kneecap.

There was a sickening crunch.

The guard screamed, his leg buckling. The rifle fired a wild shot into the canopy of the trees as he tumbled down the muddy ridge, crashing into the rocks at the bottom.

Roman didn’t miss a beat. He leapt down, pinning the groaning man to the ground. He snatched the rifle away and pressed his forearm against the guard’s throat.

“Where did she go?” Roman roared.

The guard gasped for air. “I don’t know! I swear! I just saw her drop the bracelet and run toward the old highway!”

Roman pulled the man up by his jacket and delivered a crushing blow to his jaw. The guard went limp.

Roman turned to me. He was breathing heavily, the rain soaking his white shirt.

“You didn’t have to do that, Claire,” he said, looking at me with a newfound respect.

“You pay my salary, Mr. DeLuca,” I said, trying to stop my hands from shaking. “And I don’t let men point guns at fathers looking for their children.”

Roman nodded once. He reached into the guard’s pocket and pulled out a set of car keys.

“He parked near the highway,” Roman said. “Let’s go.”

We scrambled up the embankment and ran toward the edge of the woods. Through the trees, the headlights of a black SUV cut through the downpour.

We reached the vehicle. Roman unlocked it and threw the rifle into the backseat. We both climbed in, the heater blasting against our freezing clothes.

Roman started the engine, shifting into gear. But before he could hit the gas, he noticed something resting on the passenger side floorboard, right by my muddy boots.

It was a soggy, crumpled piece of paper.

I picked it up and carefully unfolded it. It was a bus ticket.

“It’s a ticket to Boston,” I said. “Printed for tonight at 10:30 PM.”

Roman looked at the dashboard clock. It was 9:45 PM.

“She’s trying to leave the state,” Roman said, flooring the accelerator. The SUV tore out onto the slick asphalt, speeding toward the town center.

“Mr. DeLuca,” I asked hesitantly, staring at the silver bracelet he had placed on the center console. “You said Maria drowned. But if Rose is nineteen, Maria must have been pregnant when she disappeared.”

Roman’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

“Nineteen years ago, my father was still the head of the family,” Roman explained, his voice tight with painful memories. “He hated Maria. She was a waitress. She had no money, no connections. He told me if I married her, he would strip me of my inheritance.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him to keep his money,” Roman said. “Maria and I planned to run away. But the night we were supposed to leave, she never showed up. The police found her car abandoned by the river. They told me she slipped and drowned.”

The reversal clicked into place, making my stomach churn.

“She didn’t slip,” I whispered.

“No,” Roman said, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying realization. “My father found out she was pregnant. He paid someone to make her disappear. But my mother must have known. Elena must have hidden Maria away to save the baby.”

Elena DeLuca hadn’t just paid for piano lessons. She had spent fifteen years hiding her granddaughter from her own ruthless husband.

We skidded into the parking lot of the desolate bus terminal. The rain was coming down in sheets. There was only one bus idling in the lot, its engine rumbling.

Roman slammed the SUV into park and leapt out.

I followed him into the flickering fluorescent light of the terminal waiting room.

It was empty.

Roman ran out to the boarding platform. The bus doors were closing.

“Wait!” Roman shouted, sprinting toward the vehicle.

The bus driver paused, opening the hydraulic doors. Roman stepped onto the first step, scanning the seats.

I held my breath.

But Roman slowly stepped down, the hope draining from his face. He shook his head at me. The bus pulled away into the night.

“She’s not on it,” Roman said softly.

He walked over to a metal bench on the platform and sat down, burying his face in his hands. The most powerful man in the city looked completely broken.

I walked over to comfort him. But as I approached the bench, I noticed something stuffed into the overflow trash can next to it.

It was a wet, navy-blue cardigan.

I pulled it out. Pinned to the collar was a small, plastic nametag.

I read the name, and the blood ran cold in my veins.

“Mr. DeLuca,” I whispered.

He looked up.

“This is my younger brother’s nametag,” I said, my voice trembling. “He works at the diner across the street.”

And folded inside the pocket of my brother’s sweater was a note written in elegant, red ink. The exact same ink Victoria used.

“If you want the girl, bring the maid back to the estate. Come alone.”

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