Chapter 5 - [A BARGAIN WITH THE DEVIL]
“Bring me the kid.”
Marcus’s words sent a shock of ice water straight into my veins.
I didn't think. I just moved. I shoved Julian entirely behind my back, putting my own body between the little boy and the barrel of the suppressed pistol.
“No,” Dominic roared, lunging forward.
“Ah-ah!” Marcus barked, pressing his gun harder into Daniel’s skull. “One more step, Dominic, and your security chief is dead. Then I shoot you. Then I take the boy anyway.”
Dominic froze. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, trembling with sheer helplessness.
“What do you want with my son?” Dominic demanded, his voice thick with panic.
“He’s my insurance policy,” Marcus said smoothly. “Camille and I are leaving. We’re taking the private jet out of O’Hare. The boy comes with us. Once we land in a non-extradition country, I’ll call you with a drop point. If you send the police after us, Julian doesn't come back.”
It was the ultimate nightmare.
Camille stepped out from behind Marcus. She looked at Julian, her eyes cold and hard.
“Grab him, Marcus,” she said. “He’s small. He won't fight.”
I gripped the edge of the dining table behind me.
My mind was racing.
I was Nora Bennett. A housekeeper. A former jeweler.
I didn't know how to shoot. I didn't know how to fight mafia enforcers.
But I knew this house.
And I knew how to work with my hands.
“Mr. Russo,” I whispered urgently over my shoulder.
Salvatore was standing just three feet away from me. He had remained perfectly still during the chaos, his old eyes watching everything.
“Yes, Nora,” Salvatore whispered back.
“The chandelier dimmer,” I breathed. “It’s on the wall behind you. When I move, turn it completely off.”
I didn't wait to see if he understood.
I looked at Marcus.
“You can’t take him,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
Marcus laughed. “Are you going to stop me, cleaning lady?”
“I don't have to,” I said.
I reached behind my back, feeling the heavy fabric of Julian’s pajamas. I squeezed his hand twice—a silent promise.
Then, I reached onto the table.
I didn't grab the gun. Marcus would shoot me before I could raise it.
I grabbed the gray velvet jewelry case.
“The sapphire,” I said loudly, drawing Marcus’s eyes to the box in my hands. “Camille told you she was stealing it to pay for the escape, right?”
Marcus frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“She lied to you, too,” I lied smoothly. “It’s a fake. The real one is in the vault. You’re leaving with nothing.”
Camille shrieked. “She’s lying! Marcus, don't listen to her!”
Marcus hesitated. Greed is a powerful distraction. His eyes darted from me to Camille, doubt flickering in his mind for just a fraction of a second.
That was all I needed.
I threw the gray velvet case directly at Marcus’s face.
At the exact same moment, the dining room plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
Salvatore had killed the lights.
Chaos erupted.
“Grab the gun!” I screamed to Dominic.
The sound of a heavy body hitting the floor echoed in the dark. Daniel had used the distraction to tackle Marcus.
A gunshot rang out. The suppressed thwip sounded like a whip cracking.
Glass shattered somewhere to my left.
I didn't wait to see who won.
I grabbed Julian, hoisted his forty-pound frame into my arms, and ran blindly toward the kitchen doors.
“Nora!” Dominic’s voice roared in the darkness over the sound of struggling men.
I hit the swinging doors with my shoulder, bursting into the dimly lit kitchen.
I ran past the massive stainless-steel islands, making a hard right toward the servant’s stairwell. It was a narrow, winding staircase that led down to the laundry room and the sub-basement.
I practically fell down the stairs, clutching Julian tightly.
“Nora, I’m scared,” Julian whimpered in the dark.
“I know, baby. I know. But I’ve got you,” I panted.
We reached the concrete floor of the sub-basement. It was cold and smelled of bleach.
I ran toward the massive commercial washing machines. I opened the door of the largest dryer, gently pushed Julian inside, and crawled in after him, pulling the door shut just enough to leave a sliver of air.
We sat in the dark, my arms wrapped tightly around him.
Above us, heavy footsteps pounded on the hardwood floors. Shouting. The crash of furniture breaking.
Then, silence.
The silence was worse than the noise.
Ten minutes passed. Julian was shaking, his face buried in my neck.
Then, the heavy metal door at the top of the servant’s stairs creaked open.
Footsteps began descending the concrete steps.
Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
I held my breath. I tightened my grip on Julian.
The footsteps stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
A beam of light swept across the dark basement floor, illuminating the washing machines.
“Nora?”
It was Dominic.
I let out a sob of relief. I pushed the dryer door open and scrambled out, pulling Julian with me.
Dominic ran toward us. He dropped the flashlight and fell to his knees, pulling Julian into a desperate, crushing hug.
“Thank God,” Dominic wept into his son’s hair. “Thank God you’re safe.”
He looked up at me. His white shirt was torn, and there was a cut above his eye, but he was alive.
“Marcus?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Daniel knocked him out,” Dominic said. “They’re both zip-tied upstairs. The police are five minutes away.”
I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for an hour.
It was over.
But as Dominic stood up, reaching into his pocket for his phone, something fell out of his torn suit jacket and clattered onto the concrete floor.
It was a small, ornate silver object.
I looked down.
It was a heavy, antique silver rosary.
Julian pointed at it. “That’s the man’s necklace.”
Dominic frowned. “What man?”
“The man who comes to see Camille when you aren't home,” Julian said simply.
I froze.
Dominic bent down and picked up the rosary. He stared at it, his face turning an ashen gray in the dim basement light.
“Dominic?” I asked. “Whose is that?”
He looked up at me. His eyes were wide with a new, incomprehensible horror.
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“It belongs to my father.”
TITLE: THE GHOST IN THE HOUSE
