Chapter 1 - THE TRUCK THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO STOP
Six minutes after I escaped Adrian Bellandi’s estate, I realized the bakery truck was taking the wrong road.
I knew the route.
For fifteen years, Bellini Bakery had delivered bread to our kitchen every morning at exactly 4:42. The truck came east on Sheridan, crossed through Lakeview, then returned toward downtown.
This driver turned west.
I stayed curled beneath the metal shelving, barely breathing.
The engine accelerated.
Through a crack near the rear door, I saw unfamiliar warehouses replacing the residential streets.
Something was wrong.
My first thought was Adrian.
Maybe he had somehow discovered I was gone already.
Maybe he had ordered the driver to turn around.
Then the driver spoke.
“Gate was clean.”
A second man answered through the speakerphone.
“And the woman?”
My body went cold.
“Should still be underneath.”
Still.
Not maybe.
Not if.
Should.
They knew.
I pressed one hand over my mouth.
The voice on the phone said, “Don’t bring her to the original location. Bellandi will lock down the city as soon as he wakes.”
The driver laughed.
“He’ll think she ran because of the Russo woman.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
They knew about Elena.
They knew I had seen something.
Worst of all, they knew exactly how I would leave.
The truck slowed for a red light.
I saw the emergency release.
It was less than three feet away.
My fingers shook as I reached toward it.
The light changed.
The truck began moving.
I pulled.
The rear door jumped open six inches.
Cold rain sprayed inside.
I waited until the truck slowed for another turn, then rolled onto the wet pavement.
Pain tore through my shoulder.
I bit back a scream.
The truck kept going.
For ten seconds.
Then brake lights flashed.
I ran.
No shoes.
No phone.
No money except the sixty-three dollars I had shoved into the housekeeper’s coat pocket before leaving.
Behind me, a door slammed.
“Claire!”
They knew my name.
I ran harder.
An elevated train thundered overhead.
I crossed beneath it, slipped between two buildings, climbed a chain-link fence, tore the coat, and landed behind a closed laundromat.
The men passed the alley.
I stayed there until I could no longer hear them.
At 5:41 a.m., across Chicago, Adrian woke and reached for my side of the bed.
Empty.
He saw my phone first.
Then my wedding ring.
Then the five words.
YOU MADE YOUR CHOICE. GOODBYE.
Maria later told me he read them three times.
Then his face changed.
“Elena.”
He stormed downstairs.
Elena Russo was still in the guest wing.
Adrian didn’t knock.
She opened the door wearing yesterday’s clothes.
“What happened?”
“My wife is gone.”
Elena went pale.
Adrian held up my ring.
“She saw us.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“She kissed you,” Adrian’s security chief, Nicholas Dane, said from the doorway.
Adrian turned.
Nicholas had apparently reviewed the study camera.
Adrian’s voice became lethal.
“I kissed her back.”
Only for a second.
But he didn’t hide from it.
Then he looked at Nicholas.
“Find Claire.”
Nicholas hesitated.
That tiny pause saved him from being believable.
“Sir, the eastern camera went offline at 4:36.”
Adrian stopped.
“What?”
“The same time Mrs. Bellandi entered the service corridor.”
Adrian looked at my note again.
I had left because I saw him betray me.
But Adrian knew one thing about me better than anyone.
If I wanted to disappear, I would hide from cameras.
I would never disable one.
“Who shut it off?”
Nicholas began typing.
Seconds later, his expression tightened.
“Manual override.”
“Whose credentials?”
Nicholas looked up.
“Yours.”
Adrian stared at him.
Then a call came from one of his men.
The bakery truck had been found abandoned near an industrial yard.
There was blood inside.
My torn coat lay beside the rear door.
May you like
And beneath it was a handwritten message:
WE HAVE YOUR WIFE.
