Chapter 1 – THE FACE IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
The dining room fell so silent I could hear the rain hitting the tall glass windows.
Gabriel stared at the folded photograph in his hand.
His dark eyes traced the image of his fiancée standing next to an older man with silver hair and a sharp, cruel jawline.
Victoria’s champagne-colored gown suddenly looked heavy on her.
“Margaret,” Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet register. “Are you absolutely certain?”
Margaret’s trembling hands rested on her worn leather purse.
“I never forget a face, Gabriel. I was sitting in the hospital corridor that night. He was wearing a doctor’s coat, but he wasn’t a doctor. I saw him walking out of your mother’s room five minutes before the monitors started screaming.”
A collective gasp rippled through the engagement guests.
Victoria stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
“This is insane!” she cried, her voice pitching high. “Gabriel, you cannot possibly believe this senile old woman. My father has been dead for twelve years!”
Gabriel didn’t look at her.
His eyes remained locked on the photograph.
“Claire,” he said, not turning around.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take my guests to the parlor. Have my men close the front gates. Nobody leaves.”
The businessmen at the table didn’t argue. In Chicago, when Gabriel Vescari gave an order, you obeyed it. I quickly ushered the whispering guests out of the dining room, leaving only Gabriel, Victoria, and Margaret near the fireplace.
But I lingered in the hallway, standing just out of sight.
I couldn’t leave Margaret alone.
“Gabriel, please,” Victoria pleaded, her voice trembling with manufactured tears. “She’s confused. She’s poor and looking for a payout. I didn’t offer her money for the ring, she tried to extort me—”
“Stop,” Gabriel commanded.
He walked slowly toward Victoria, holding up the photograph.
“If your father has been dead for twelve years,” Gabriel said, “then why is he wearing a limited-edition silver watch in this picture?”
Victoria froze.
Gabriel reached out and grabbed her left wrist, pulling up the sleeve of her silk gown to reveal the heavy silver watch she was wearing.
“A watch,” Gabriel continued, his voice like ice, “that was released exactly two years ago. The exact same watch you are wearing right now.”
Victoria’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
The color completely drained from her face.
Gabriel released her arm in disgust.
“You lied to me,” he whispered. “You brought the man who murdered my mother into my city.”
Margaret stood quietly, her posture dignified despite her faded lavender dress.
“He’s looking for something, Gabriel,” Margaret said softly. “When Victoria came to my house for the ring, she didn’t just want the jewelry. She was looking for what your mother hid inside it.”
Gabriel looked down at the velvet box on the table.
He picked up the gold wedding band.
He pressed his thumb against the tiny blue stone in the center.
With a sharp click, the stone didn’t just shine—it opened like a miniature locket.
Gabriel stared at what was inside, his breathing stopping completely.
He looked up at Victoria.
“Where is he?” Gabriel asked, pulling a silver firearm from his jacket.
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