Chapter 3: Gathering the Pieces
Midnight was approaching, and the grand party was entering its final, chaotic hours. Emma knew she had a rapidly closing window. The electronic lock on the basement door meant she couldn't pick it. She needed a code.
Isabella never carried a phone or a purse at parties—she believed it ruined the lines of her dresses. But she always retreated to her private suite on the third floor for twenty minutes during long events to "freshen up."
Emma waited near the grand staircase. At exactly 11:15 PM, she saw Isabella excuse herself from the mayor's wife and begin ascending the stairs. Emma gave her a two-minute head start before slipping up the back servant stairs, taking them two at a time.
The third-floor hallway was heavily carpeted and deathly quiet. Emma crept toward the master suite. The door was cracked open. Emma peeked through the hinge side.
Isabella was standing in front of her antique vanity. She wasn't touching up her makeup. She was holding a small, burner cell phone, speaking in hushed, rapid Italian. Emma strained to listen. She didn't speak Italian, but she recognized dates and numbers.
"Domani. Si, il ragazzo... finita."
Emma’s blood ran cold. Il ragazzo. The boy. Finita. Finished. Tomorrow.
Isabella hung up the phone and tucked it into the false bottom of her jewelry box. She turned and headed for the en-suite bathroom. The sound of running water masked the creak of the floorboards as Emma slipped into the bedroom.
She darted to the jewelry box. Her trembling fingers found the hidden latch. Inside, beside the burner phone, lay a folded piece of paper and a small, heavy silver master key fob—the kind used to override electronic locks when the power failed.
Emma grabbed the fob and opened the paper. It was a one-way flight itinerary to Zurich, departing in 48 hours. The name on the ticket wasn't Isabella Sterling. It was Katarina Volkov.
A black widow. Isabella wasn't just after the money; she was cleaning house. First the wife, now the son. William would be next, leaving her the sole inheritor before vanishing across international borders.
The water in the bathroom suddenly shut off.
Panic flared like a match in Emma’s chest. She shoved the paper back, pocketed the silver fob, and practically dove under the massive king-sized bed just as the bathroom door clicked open.
May you like
From her hiding spot, Emma saw Isabella’s bare feet walk across the rug. They stopped right next to the bed. Isabella stood perfectly still.
"I know you're in here," Isabella's voice rang out into the silence.
