Chapter 9 – THE WATCH THAT TICKED BACKWARDS

The line went dead.

Dominic slowly lowered the phone.

A half-brother. In Chicago.

He looked at the photograph again. The boy in the picture had the exact same sharp jawline and dark, intense eyes that Dominic saw in the mirror every morning.

Dominic pressed the intercom button on his desk.

“Samuel. My office. Now.”

Two minutes later, Samuel Bennett walked into the study. He took one look at Dominic’s face and immediately locked the door behind him.

“What’s wrong, boss?”

Dominic slid the photograph across the desk.

Samuel picked it up, adjusting his glasses. He stared at the image of the young boy holding the late boss’s hand.

“I didn’t know your father had another son,” Samuel said quietly.

“Neither did I,” Dominic replied. “Marco knew. Marco was going to use him to claim legitimacy over the family if he killed me.”

“Did he call you?”

“Just now.” Dominic stood up, pacing the room. “He’s in the city. He didn’t sound like a man looking for a family reunion. He sounded like a man claiming his territory.”

Samuel placed the photo back on the desk.

“I’ll double the perimeter guards. Nobody gets in or out without my personal authorization.”

“Keep Claire close to you,” Dominic ordered. “Do not let her leave the estate.”

“Understood.”

The next morning, the tension in the mansion was palpable.

Claire found Dominic in the dining room, staring at an unopened velvet box sitting in the center of the table.

“What is that?” Claire asked, walking in with two cups of coffee.

“It arrived in the morning mail,” Dominic said, not touching it. “Addressed to me. No return address.”

Claire set the coffee down. “Should Samuel call the bomb squad?”

“It’s not a bomb. It’s too light. It’s a message.”

Dominic reached out and popped the latch.

The velvet box opened.

Inside sat a heavy, antique gold watch.

It wasn’t a pocket watch. It was a classic wristwatch with a leather band.

Claire frowned. “It’s beautiful. Is it a threat?”

Dominic picked it up. He turned it over in his hands.

“Look at the second hand,” he murmured.

Claire leaned in.

The thin, gold second hand wasn’t ticking forward. It was ticking backward.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Counter-clockwise.

“Why is it moving backward?” Claire asked, a chill running down her spine.

“It’s a countdown,” Dominic said grimly. “A psychological tactic used by the Sicilian syndicates. It means my time is running out.”

He flipped the watch over.

Engraved on the steel backplate was a single word.

“Leo,” Claire read aloud. “Is that his name?”

Before Dominic could answer, the heavy oak doors of the dining room swung open.

A young maid, trembling uncontrollably, stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Moretti,” she stammered, tears streaming down her face.

“What is it, Maria?” Dominic asked, stepping forward.

“It’s Bruno, sir.” Maria choked on a sob. “He’s gone.”

Claire dropped her coffee mug. It shattered against the marble floor.

“What do you mean he’s gone?!” Claire demanded.

“I went to the garden to feed him,” Maria wept. “His collar was lying in the grass. But the dog wasn’t there. And the back gate… the back gate was wide open.”

Dominic looked at the watch ticking backward in his hand.

Leo hadn’t just sent a threat. He had breached the absolute security of the estate and stolen the one thing that had finally brought peace to the family.

He had taken the dog.

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