THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A DIRTY LITTLE THIEF” IN FRONT OF 42 DINNER GUESTS—BUT WHEN I PICKED UP THE FORK BESIDE HIS PLATE

Chapter 9 – [A GHOST IN THE HALLWAY]

I stared at the bloody silver bracelet on the floor.

My stomach plummeted. The peace we had just fought so hard for shattered in an instant.

I picked it up with a napkin. It was heavy, engraved with the Russian Volkov crest.

Answer one: The Volkov boss had been in the house last night to take Veronica away.

Open two: Why was his bloody bracelet lying in our private hallway this morning? And whose blood was on it?

Nico saw my face and walked over. When he saw the bracelet, his entire demeanor shifted back to the cold, hardened boss.

“Get Leo and your mother back to the secure wing,” Nico ordered his guards. “Now.”

Once they were safe, Nico pulled his weapon. “Someone else was in the house after the Russians left.”

We followed a faint trail of crimson drops leading down the marble corridor, toward the servant’s quarters. The same quarters where Arthur had been kept before his banishment.

“Arthur,” Nico muttered.

We reached Arthur’s old room. The door was ajar.

Nico kicked it open, gun raised.

The room was empty, but the window was shattered. Sitting on the bed was a heavy leather briefcase.

Nico cautiously approached it. He unclasped the latches and opened it.

Inside were stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Exactly $240,000. The exact amount of the forged loan.

And resting on top of the money was a single train ticket to Montreal, dated for today.

“Arthur didn’t leave Chicago,” Nico said, his eyes narrowing. “He double-crossed the Volkovs. He stole the loan money back from them before he fled.”

“But Arthur is an old man,” I said, bewildered. “How could he fight off Russian mafia men?”

“He couldn’t,” Nico said grimly. “Unless he had help from someone inside.”

Just then, a floorboard creaked behind us.

Nico spun around, aiming his gun.

Standing in the doorway, bleeding from a shoulder wound, was the Volkov boss. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, gasping for breath.

“Your manager…” Volkov choked out. “He wasn’t working for Veronica. He was playing us all.”

Before Volkov could say another word, a gunshot rang out through the window.

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