Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
I stared at Jack Moretti, wondering whether I'd misunderstood him.
Marco Voss stood barely fifteen feet away, alive, breathing, and pretending to help a lawyer rescue the coffee-soaked contract.
Yet Jack had just told me he'd buried him.
“Don't look at him,” Jack murmured.
I lowered my eyes.
“Then who's standing over there?”
“A man wearing my brother's name.”
The room smelled of spilled espresso and expensive cologne.
Victor hurried toward us with a towel.
“Mr. Moretti, I apologize for this incompetent woman. I'll remove her immediately.”
“No,” Jack said.
One word.
Victor stopped.
Jack calmly pushed the ruined contract aside.
“She stays.”
Marco looked up.
For the first time that evening, his smile disappeared.
Jack turned toward the lawyer.
“We'll need a clean copy.”
“Of course, sir.”
“And a different verification pen.”
Marco's fingers tightened around his wineglass.
“Why change the pen?” he asked.
Jack leaned back.
“Because I feel like it.”
Silence spread across the room.
Then Jack looked at me.
“Miss Bennett, bring another pot of coffee.”
I understood the instruction.
Leave the room.
Don't run.
Don't alert anyone.
I picked up the tray and walked toward the service door.
But when I reached the hallway, Victor followed.
He grabbed my arm.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
He shoved me against the wall.
Pain flashed through my shoulder, across scars that had never stopped aching completely.
“You think you're clever?”
I pulled away.
“Let go.”
His hand rose.
Before he could strike, a deep voice came from behind us.
“Touch her again, Victor, and you'll answer to me.”
Rocco.
Jack's security chief stood at the end of the corridor.
Victor released me.
Rocco approached slowly.
“Mr. Moretti wants the waitress brought to his private office.”
Victor swallowed.
“Now?”
“Immediately.”
Rocco guided me through the kitchen and down a narrow stairway.
Only after we'd entered a locked office did he speak.
“Tell me exactly what you heard.”
I described the murder plan.
The emergency clause.
The false alarm.
The east corridor.
Rocco listened without interrupting.
Then I showed him the recording.
His expression darkened.
“That's Marco's voice.”
“But Jack said Marco died.”
Rocco stared at my phone.
“Marco Voss was declared dead after a warehouse explosion three years ago. Jack identified what he believed were his remains.”
“Then how can he be upstairs?”
Rocco looked toward the locked door.
“That's what we've been trying to prove.”
My phone suddenly vibrated.
A new message appeared from Ruth.
Lily, don't panic. Ethan came by asking about you.
Then another.
He said someone offered him money to bring Noah to the restaurant.
My knees weakened.
Noah.
My five-year-old son.
Before I could call Ruth, an unknown number sent a photograph.
Noah sat inside a black SUV, clutching his broken silver robot.
May you like
Beneath the photograph were seven words.
THE PEN FOR THE BOY. NO POLICE.
