Chapter 3 - THE BOX THAT WAITED FOURTEEN YEARS
“This is ridiculous.”
I stared at the black metal box.
Roman remained calm.
Declan looked impatient.
Gabriel looked entertained.
None of those reactions helped.
“You’re telling me your mother built a box fourteen years ago that opens with my fingerprint?”
Roman nodded.
“I’m telling you it was modified to respond to a blood relative of Nora Carter.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Your mother’s genetic profile was stored in the lock.”
I stepped back.
“My mother was not the kind of person who stored DNA in mafia boxes.”
Gabriel murmured, “People contain multitudes.”
I glared at him.
He raised both hands.
Roman slid the box toward me.
“You don’t have to open it.”
That stopped me.
Most powerful men I had met treated permission like decoration.
Roman didn’t.
At least not then.
I looked at the box.
If Mom had hidden something, I wanted to know.
I pressed my thumb to the scanner.
Nothing.
Then a small needle pricked my finger.
“Ow!”
Declan actually smiled.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
The box beeped.
Unlocked.
Nobody moved.
I lifted the lid.
Inside were four things.
A silver key.
A sealed envelope.
A flash drive.
And my childhood photograph.
I stared at it.
I was eight.
Missing a front tooth.
Holding a red umbrella.
On the back, Mom had written:
If anything happens to me, find Elena Falcone.
My stomach dropped.
“But Elena disappeared before Mom died.”
Roman took the photograph.
His jaw tightened.
The envelope had my name.
I opened it.
Mom’s handwriting.
Maeve, if you’re reading this, then I failed to keep you away from the Falcones.
I stopped.
Declan whispered, “Keep going.”
Do not blame the boys.
I glanced at them.
They were children when this began.
My hands trembled.
Elena discovered that someone inside the Falcone organization was stealing from the family and funding operations even Roman’s father did not know about.
Roman went rigid.
She trusted me because I managed the household books.
Mom had been more than a cook.
Of course she had lied about that too.
We copied records.
Then Elena disappeared.
I took the evidence and ran because the person responsible believed I knew where Elena went.
I read faster.
If I am dead, it means they found me.
My eyes blurred.
The accident.
Six years ago.
Not an accident.
Gabriel stopped smiling.
“What name did she write?”
I reached the final paragraph.
There was no name.
Only:
Trust the brother who refuses the inheritance.
I stared at the triplets.
“Which one of you refused?”
Silence.
Roman looked at Declan.
Declan looked at Gabriel.
Then Gabriel sighed.
“Me.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
His expression darkened.
“Because our father’s will said whoever accepted his controlling shares also inherited responsibility for a private offshore account.”
“What was in it?”
Gabriel looked at Roman.
May you like
Then at me.
“Payments connected to your mother’s death.”
