Chapter 2 - The Initials on the Silver
The drive back to my Wicker Park loft was suffocating.
Adrien gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.
The windshield wipers slapped back and forth across the glass.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
"He’s sick in the head," Adrien muttered.
His voice shook with quiet rage.
"He does this every single time I bring someone home."
I looked out the passenger window.
The city streetlights smeared into yellow streaks in the rain.
My fingers rested on the cool silver pendant over my chest.
"Did your grandmother leave it to him, Adrien?" I asked.
My voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
The tires squealed as Adrien rounded a corner too fast.
"She had dementia, Lena! She didn't know what she was writing in that damn
will!"
He slammed a palm against the wheel.
I flinched.
In six months, Adrien had never raised his voice.
Not once.
He had never slapped the wheel.
He had never glared at me like a stranger.
He noticed my reaction.
Instantly, his face shifted.
The mask snapped back into place.
He exhaled softly, letting his shoulders drop.
He reached over, taking my cold hand in his warm one.
"I’m sorry, baby," he whispered gently.
His thumb stroked my knuckles.
"Victor just gets under my skin. He’s always been the golden boy. The dangerous
one. My parents forgive him for everything."
"He said it belongs to his future wife."
Adrien laughed.
The sound was dry.
"Victor doesn't have a heart, Lena. He will never marry. That necklace was
collecting dust in a safe. I wanted you to have it because I love you."
He pulled up to the curb outside my apartment building.
The brick facade looked dark and lonely in the storm.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for my face.
"Come stay at my place tonight," he urged.
His eyes searched mine.
There was an intensity there that didn't feel like love.
It felt like surveillance.
"No," I pulled away softly. "I have a 6:00 AM private session at the studio. I
need to sleep."
"Lena—"
"Please, Adrien. I have a migraine."
He stared at me for three agonizing seconds.
Then he smiled.
A perfect, rehearsed smile.
"Okay. Call me before you go to bed."
I stepped out into the rain.
I didn't look back until the heavy glass door of my lobby clicked shut.
Through the glass, I saw Adrien’s black sedan idling at the curb.
The headlights stared at the entrance.
He didn't drive away.
I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor.
My hands shook as I unlocked my door.
I slipped inside, locked the deadbolt, and flipped the security latch.
I didn't turn on the living room lights.
I walked straight to the kitchen.
I turned on the harsh fluorescent light above the marble island.
My fingers reached behind my neck.
I unclasped the silver chain.
It felt heavy in my palm.
Heavy and burning cold.
I flipped the pendant over.
Under the bright white light, I inspected the antique silver.
There, scratched into the base near the clasp in tiny, elegant script:
V.D.
Not Adrien.
Victor Duca.
My breath caught in my throat.
Why would Adrien give me a necklace with his brother’s initials?
Why insist I wear it tonight, specifically to their parents' dinner?
“Then ask yourself why he made you wear bait.”
Victor’s words echoed through my empty apartment.
I turned the pendant sideways.
Something caught my eye.
A tiny hairline seam ran along the edge of the obsidian stone.
I pressed my thumbnail into the edge.
A soft click echoed in the silent kitchen.
The pendant popped open.
It wasn't solid silver.
It was a locket.
Inside was not a picture of a grandmother.
Inside was a micro-circuit.
A blinking red dot smaller than a grain of rice.
A real-time GPS tracking beacon.
The air left my lungs in a violent rush.
I dropped the necklace onto the counter.
It skittered across the marble.
At that exact moment, my phone lit up on the counter.
An incoming text from an unknown number:
“Don't turn around. He’s already in the building.”
My head whipped toward my loft windows.
The fire escape was dark.
Then, the doorknob of my apartment jiggled.
Slowly.
May you like
Quietly.
Someone was unlocking my deadbolt from the outside.
