Chapter 5 – [A GUN AT THE DINNER TABLE]

Answer one: The safety deposit box contained the true identity of ‘The Architect’, the ruthless man who fathered Lily.

Open two: How did ‘The Architect’ infiltrate the dinner party? And what does he actually want with the key?

I pushed Lily firmly behind my back, using my own body as a shield. My mind was racing, trying to process the impossible.

Mr. Peterson. The polite, soft-spoken dinner guest. He was ‘The Architect’.

“You’re her father,” I breathed, my hands shaking.

Peterson chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. He kept the gun leveled at my chest.

“Sarah was remarkably clever,” Peterson said, taking a slow step forward. “She faked a DNA test twelve years ago to convince old man Moretti that I was dead. She hid the real records in that bank vault. But she couldn’t hide forever. Vanessa found her.”

“Vanessa was working for you?” I asked, stalling for time. Where were Luca’s guards?

“Vanessa was an opportunist,” Peterson sneered. “She found the breadcrumbs Sarah left behind. She thought she could play both sides—marry the Moretti boss and blackmail me with the evidence of my existence. But Vanessa is an idiot. She led me right to the front door.”

Lily tugged frantically on my apron. She couldn’t hear his words perfectly, but she saw the gun. Her eyes were wide with absolute terror.

Run, she signed against my back.

Stay still, I signed back, hiding my hands behind my waist.

“Hand over the girl, Rebecca,” Peterson said, his voice dropping the polite facade. “She is the biometric key I need to open that vault and destroy the evidence that ties me to this family. Once the vault is empty, the Moretti empire will fall, and I will take Chicago.”

“I won’t let you take her,” I said, my voice trembling but defiant.

“You’re a maid,” Peterson laughed. “You scrub floors for nine dollars an hour. Are you really going to die for a child that isn’t yours?”

He raised the gun, aiming it directly at my forehead.

“Yes,” I said.

Before he could pull the trigger, a voice roared from the bottom of the staircase.

“Drop it!”

It was Luca. He was sprinting up the stairs, a heavy automatic weapon drawn, Arthur right behind him.

Peterson didn’t panic. He simply pivoted slightly and aimed his weapon down the stairs.

Thwip.

The suppressed gunshot echoed softly in the hallway.

Arthur grunted, clutching his shoulder as he fell backward down the carpeted stairs.

“Arthur!” Luca yelled, diving behind the thick marble balustrade for cover.

“Ah, Luca,” Peterson called out, completely calm. “I must say, your security is severely lacking. Did you really think Vanessa arranged this dinner party by herself?”

Luca peered over the marble, his eyes burning with rage. “You touch one hair on my niece’s head, and I will cut you to pieces.”

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Peterson lied smoothly. “I just need her thumbprint. Lower your weapon, Luca, and toss me the silver key. If you do, the maid and the child live.”

Luca hesitated. He looked at me, then at Lily hiding behind my skirt. He knew he couldn’t get a clean shot without risking us.

Slowly, agonizingly, Luca stood up from behind the balustrade. He lowered his weapon, placing it on the floor.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver key.

“Let them walk down the stairs first,” Luca demanded.

“Key first,” Peterson countered. “Toss it.”

Luca clenched his jaw. He threw the silver key down the hallway. It skittered across the hardwood floor, coming to a stop inches from Peterson’s expensive leather shoes.

Peterson smiled. He bent down to pick it up.

In that split second, I didn’t think. I just acted.

I grabbed the heavy, antique bronze vase resting on the pedestal table beside me and hurled it with all my strength directly at Peterson’s head.

The vase struck him hard on the temple.

Peterson yelled, stumbling backward. The gun fired blindly, the bullet shattering a mirror above my head. Glass rained down on us.

“Run, Lily!” I screamed, pushing her toward the back staircase.

We sprinted down the narrow, dimly lit servant corridors. I knew these hallways perfectly. We wove through the pantry, into the kitchen, and burst through the heavy swinging doors into the grand foyer.

But our escape was cut short.

Standing by the front doors were three men in tactical gear. They held heavy rifles, their faces covered in black masks.

They weren’t Luca’s men. Peterson had brought a hit squad.

One of the men saw us and raised his rifle.

I pulled Lily behind a massive marble pillar just as bullets chewed through the plaster where we had been standing.

We were trapped.

I looked at Lily. She was crying silently, her hands covering her ears, terrified of the vibrations rocking the floor.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the only thing I had.

A small, brass key. The key to the estate’s electrical breaker box, which I used when resetting the kitchen appliances.

I looked at the massive crystal chandelier hanging directly above the armed men in the foyer.

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