Chapter 2 - THE SILVER KEY IN HER PURSE
“Madeline, if St. Andrew’s never received my eighty-five thousand dollars, where did you send the money?”
The ballroom was so quiet you could hear the ice melting in the crystal glasses.
Madeline’s flawless posture finally cracked.
She took a step back, her eyes darting toward the ballroom doors as if calculating the distance.
“It was an administrative error, Dominic,” she said, her voice tight. “My accountant must have routed the funds to the wrong charity. I’ll have it fixed by morning.”
Dominic didn't blink.
“Richard,” Dominic said, not taking his eyes off his fiancée. “Pull up the routing number from the transfer.”
The lawyer tapped his tablet.
“It didn't go to a charity, Dominic. It went to a private offshore LLC. Registered in the Cayman Islands.”
Guests began to murmur.
Madeline’s face flushed red. She turned to me, her eyes filled with sudden, vicious hatred.
“This is your fault,” she hissed softly, leaning in. “You couldn't just play along. You’re going to regret this, Olivia. Your mother is going to regret this.”
My blood ran cold.
“Don't you ever threaten my mother,” I whispered back.
Dominic caught the exchange. He stepped between us, his broad shoulders shielding me completely.
“What did you just say to her, Madeline?”
“Nothing!” Madeline cried, playing the victim again. “She’s lying! She’s trying to ruin us!”
Dominic held out his hand.
“Give me your purse.”
Madeline clutched her expensive designer clutch to her chest. “Dominic, please. You’re embarrassing me.”
“The purse. Now.”
Trembling, she handed it over.
Dominic opened the clasp. He bypassed the lipstick, the compact, and the credit cards. He reached into the hidden zippered pocket in the lining.
He pulled out a small, heavy silver key.
It had a strange emblem engraved on the top—a coiled snake.
Richard, the lawyer, gasped audibly.
“Dominic,” Richard whispered. “That’s the crest of the Romano family.”
The Romanos. Dominic’s biggest rivals in Chicago. A family he had sworn a truce with five years ago.
Dominic stared at the key.
“You’ve been stealing from my accounts to pay off the Romanos?” Dominic asked, his voice dangerously low.
Madeline began to sob. “They were going to hurt me, Dominic! My father owed them millions before he died. I had to pay them back, or they were going to kill me!”
“So you used my money. And you used this girl’s tragic past to cover your tracks.”
Before Madeline could answer, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
I wouldn't normally answer it during a shift, but it was my mother. She was supposed to be at the church pantry.
I answered it. “Mom?”
“Olivia!” My mother’s voice was hysterical. “Olivia, please help! Men are here at the church! They’re smashing the pantry, and they locked me in the office!”
I dropped the phone.
Dominic caught it before it hit the floor. He put it to his ear.
“Mrs. Bennett? This is Dominic Moretti. We are on our way.”
He hung up and looked at Madeline.
“If they touch a hair on her mother’s head, you are a dead woman.”
Dominic grabbed my hand. “Come with me.”
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We rushed out of the ballroom, leaving the stunned guests behind. But as we reached the front doors, Dominic’s head of security, Marcus, stepped in our way.
And Marcus was holding a drawn gun, pointed directly at Dominic’s chest.
