Chapter 7 - [THE WATCH ON HIS WRIST]
Dominic stared at his wrist.
The vintage silver Patek Philippe had been a graduation gift from his mother. He never took it off. It was the one piece of his past that wasn’t tainted by his father’s sins.
Or so he thought.
“It’s in the watch?” Dominic whispered.
“Behind the dial,” Salvatore confirmed. “Harold told me it was the safest place in the world. Hidden in plain sight, strapped to the wrist of the man who would tear the empire down.”
I felt a sudden, fierce rush of pride.
My father wasn’t just a repairman in a dusty shop on Wabash Avenue. He had outsmarted one of the most dangerous crime bosses in Chicago to protect a family he barely knew.
“Dominic!” Daniel’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs.
Dominic snapped his head up. “What is it?”
“The police have Camille and Marcus in custody,” Daniel called down. “But Camille is screaming that there’s an intruder on the property. She says someone is in the old carriage house.”
Dominic’s eyes met mine.
His father.
Vincent Caruso was still here. Waiting for Camille to bring him the fifty million dollars.
Dominic immediately unbuckled the leather strap of the Patek watch. He handed it to me.
“Nora. Take this.”
I took the heavy silver timepiece. The metal was still warm from his skin.
“Take Julian and Salvatore up to my private office on the third floor,” Dominic ordered. “Lock the door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone but me.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, panic rising in my throat.
“I’m going to end this,” Dominic said, pulling a backup revolver from his ankle holster. “My father ruined my mother’s life. He tried to ruin mine. I won’t let him leave this property.”
He turned and ran up the stairs.
I didn't waste a second. I grabbed Julian’s hand. “Come on, sweetheart.”
Salvatore, Julian, and I hurried up the back stairwell, avoiding the main halls where police officers were securing the crime scene.
We reached the third floor. Dominic’s private office was a fortress. Solid oak doors, reinforced steel frames.
We slipped inside. I threw the heavy deadbolts.
The room was dark, save for the moonlight spilling through the large bay windows overlooking the sprawling estate grounds.
I set the silver watch on Dominic’s massive mahogany desk.
Julian sat on the leather sofa, clutching a throw pillow. He was exhausted, his little eyes drooping.
“Will my dad be okay?” Julian asked softly.
“Your dad is the strongest man I know,” I said, walking over and kissing his forehead. “He’s going to be fine.”
I walked back to the desk. Salvatore was staring out the window.
From the third-floor vantage point, we had a clear view of the estate gardens and the old stone carriage house near the tree line.
I stood beside Salvatore.
Through the falling snow, I saw Dominic’s silhouette moving across the lawn. He held his gun at his side, walking purposefully toward the carriage house.
“He shouldn’t have gone alone,” I whispered.
“Dominic has been fighting his father’s ghost for ten years,” Salvatore said quietly. “He had to face the real man alone.”
We watched breathlessly.
Dominic reached the heavy wooden doors of the carriage house. He didn't hesitate. He kicked the door open and stepped into the darkness.
For two agonizing minutes, nothing happened.
I gripped the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white.
Then, a flash of orange light erupted inside the carriage house.
A gunshot.
“No!” I gasped, slapping my hand over my mouth.
Julian jumped on the sofa. “What was that?”
“Nothing, baby, just thunder,” I lied, my voice shaking.
I pressed my face against the cold glass of the window, desperate to see what was happening.
Another flash of light. Another gunshot.
Then, silence.
The heavy doors of the carriage house slowly pushed open.
A man walked out.
He was leaning heavily on a cane. He had silver hair and wore a dark overcoat.
It wasn't Dominic.
It was Vincent.
My heart completely shattered. I let out a choked sob. Dominic was dead. His father had killed him.
Vincent stood in the snow, looking back at the main house.
Then, he raised a cell phone to his ear.
A second later, the heavy oak door of Dominic’s office rattled.
Someone was trying the handle from the hallway.
I froze. Salvatore backed away from the window.
The handle rattled again. Harder.
“Dominic?” Salvatore asked the door, his voice trembling.
A deep, unfamiliar voice answered from the other side of the wood.
“Dominic is indisposed,” the voice said. “Open the door, Mr. Russo. I know you have the watch.”
It was one of Vincent’s men. He had bypassed the police downstairs and come straight for the prize.
“Don't open it,” I whispered frantically to Salvatore.
“I’m going to shoot the lock,” the man outside warned calmly. “Step back.”
I looked at the silver watch on the desk. Fifty million dollars.
I wasn't going to let Dominic’s death be for nothing. I wasn't going to let his father win.
I grabbed a heavy brass letter opener from the desk.
“Julian, hide under the sofa!” I ordered.
The little boy scrambled under the leather couch.
I wedged the sharp tip of the letter opener under the edge of the watch’s silver casing. I had watched my father do this a thousand times.
I applied pressure. The metal popped.
The back of the watch fell away.
Tucked neatly against the intricate gears was a tiny, translucent square of film. The microdot.
I picked it up. It weighed nothing. It was smaller than a fingernail.
BANG.
The office door exploded inward, wood splintering as the lock was shot to pieces.
A massive man in a black trench coat kicked the door open. He leveled a suppressed pistol at Salvatore’s chest.
“The watch,” the man demanded.
I stood behind the desk. I didn't hesitate.
I put the microdot in my mouth.
May you like
And I swallowed it.
TITLE: THE PRICE OF FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS
