Chapter 2 - THE LOCKED ROOM AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS
The dining room descended into a suffocating silence.
Caroline’s chair scraped violently against the hardwood floor as she stood. She didn't look at her mother. She didn't look at Daniel. She stared directly at the grand, sweeping staircase in the foyer.
"Caroline, sit down," Valentina ordered, her voice trembling for the first time all evening.
"Who is upstairs, Mom?" Caroline asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
Luca Moretti didn't wait for his sister's answer. He bypassed the banquet table entirely, his long strides eating up the distance to the stairs.
"Luca, wait!" Daniel shouted, lunging forward.
Before Daniel could take two steps, Luca’s head of security, Marco, stepped into his path, pressing a heavy hand flush against Daniel’s chest.
"I wouldn't," Marco said simply.
I left my tray on the table, my uniform clinging to my skin, smelling of expensive, ruined champagne. I ran up the stairs right behind Luca, with Caroline close on my heels.
We reached the second-floor landing. The west wing was reserved for guests, but the heavy oak doors to the master suites were in the east wing.
Valentina appeared at the bottom of the stairs, her red gown pooling around her. "Luca! You have no right to open my private guest rooms!"
Luca ignored her. He walked straight to the third door on the right.
It was locked.
He didn't ask for a key. He took one step back, raised his right leg, and kicked the door directly beside the deadbolt. The wood splintered with a deafening crack. The door swung open, slamming against the interior wall.
I pushed past his shoulder, my heart hammering in my throat.
The room was dim, the heavy blackout curtains drawn tightly. On the king-sized bed lay a woman.
She was devastatingly pale, her dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. An IV stand stood beside the bed, a clear bag of fluid dripping a steady rhythm into a line taped to the back of her hand.
"Rebecca?" I choked out, rushing to the bedside.
My sister slowly opened her eyes. They were completely unfocused, glazed over by whatever sedatives they had been pumping into her veins.
"Emily?" she whispered, her dry lips barely moving. "Did he… did he come home?"
I fell to my knees, taking her cold face in my hands. "I'm here, Becca. I'm right here."
Caroline stepped into the room, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw the emaciated, drugged woman in her mother’s guest bed.
Then Daniel appeared in the doorway, Marco keeping a tight grip on his collar.
When Daniel looked at the bed, his face went entirely slack. Genuine shock washed over his features.
"Valentina," Daniel breathed, looking back at the hallway. "You told me she was in Florida. You told me she took the buyout."
Valentina stood frozen in the hallway, gripping the banister.
Daniel hadn't known she was here. He had authorized paying off his wife, but Valentina had kept her prisoner instead.
"Why?" Luca asked his sister, his voice dropping to a terrifying, lethal register. "Why would you lock a woman in my house?"
I grabbed a damp washcloth from the bedside table and began wiping the sweat from Rebecca’s forehead. As I moved the cloth, I knocked over a small stack of papers resting on the nightstand.
One of them fluttered to the floor.
I picked it up.
It was a one-way first-class plane ticket to Naples, Italy.
But it didn't have Rebecca's name on it. It didn't have Daniel's name on it.
"This ticket is for Caroline," I said, holding it up.
Caroline frowned, stepping closer. "What? Mom, my honeymoon was supposed to be in Paris. Why do you have a one-way ticket to Italy for me?"
Rebecca let out a sudden, agonizing groan, clutching her stomach.
"Emily," my sister cried, her fingernails digging into my wrist. "Don't let them take the baby."
The room spun.
I looked at her stomach, hidden beneath the thick down comforter.
"Baby?" Daniel whispered, his face turning a sickly shade of gray.
Rebecca wasn't just Daniel's abandoned wife. She was carrying his child.
Luca turned slowly toward his sister. "You drugged a pregnant woman and planned to ship your own daughter out of the country? What the hell have you done, Valentina?"
Valentina’s pristine facade finally shattered. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing.
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"I didn't do it to hurt them," Valentina cried, leaning against the doorframe. "I did it because if Caroline marries him, the men in this photograph will kill us all."
TITLE: THE MEN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
