Chapter 2 - THE SILVER CLUTCH
Sofia’s hand hovered above the table.
The jazz trio had completely stopped playing.
Dante Russo’s hand remained open, waiting.
“Dante,” she whispered. Her voice had lost its sharp, aristocratic edge. “Please. You’re embarrassing me.”
“The phone, Sofia.”
She looked at the guests. Then at the heavy, silent men standing by the elevator. Finally, she looked at me.
It wasn't a glare of superiority anymore. It was panic.
Slowly, her shaking fingers unclasped her silver clutch. She reached inside and pulled out her phone.
She placed it in his palm.
Dante didn’t look at the screen. He handed it directly to Marco.
“Check the Bluetooth logs,” Dante said.
Marco tapped the screen. A second later, he shook his head. “Nothing, boss. The connection history was just wiped. Thirty seconds ago.”
A murmur rippled through the penthouse.
Sofia exhaled, lifting her chin, trying to reclaim her dignity. “I told you. This girl is lying. She’s probably trying to extort us.”
“I’m not lying,” I said.
“Then why is my phone clean?” Sofia snapped.
I looked at the silver clutch still resting on the table. It was slightly open.
“Because you didn’t wipe it from your phone,” I said.
I stepped closer to the table. Sofia tried to block me, but Dante caught her arm. Gently, but immovably.
I reached into her open bag.
My fingers brushed past a lipstick, a compact, and something soft. I pulled out the soft object.
It was a child’s braided friendship bracelet.
Faded pink thread. Plastic alphabet beads that spelled out MOMMY.
Sofia let out a choked, desperate sound. She lunged for it, but Marco stepped between us.
Dante stared at the cheap plastic beads. Then he looked at Sofia’s throat, which was covered in a quarter-million dollars’ worth of diamonds.
“You don’t have children, Sofia,” Dante said quietly.
“Don't touch that!” she screamed, her polished facade shattering completely.
I looked down at the bag again. There was a secondary, smaller phone tucked into the lining. A burner.
I pulled it out and turned it around. The screen was lit. It was currently connected to a device called DR_Jacket_Tag.
Sofia fell to her knees right there on the Persian rug.
“I had to,” she sobbed, looking up at Dante. “They said if I didn't get you into car 1912 tonight, I would never see her again.”
Dante’s expression turned to ice. “See who?”
“My daughter,” Sofia wept. “Her name is Lily. She's six.”
Before Dante could speak, the burner phone in my hand vibrated.
An incoming text message.
I looked at the screen. The blood drained from my face.
“Mr. Russo,” I whispered.
Dante turned to me. “Read it.”
May you like
I swallowed hard, looking at the number. It wasn't an unknown caller. I knew the area code. I knew the digits.
“The message says, ‘Time is up.’” I looked up at Dante. “But it’s coming from my mother’s cell phone.”
