Chapter 5 - A Mother’s Bargain
By dawn, Vincent had found the auction records.
The music box had been purchased by a woman named Evelyn Hart, a retired schoolteacher living in a small town outside Rochester. She had bought the entire storage unit for two hundred dollars, believing it contained antiques and children’s furniture.
The music box was still in her possession.
So was the ledger.
Claire felt sick with guilt.
An innocent woman had been living with a target on her back without knowing it.
“We have to get it before Russo does,” Claire said.
Vincent stood at the kitchen counter, staring at a map spread beneath his hands. His men had been awake all night. The exhaustion showed in their eyes, but nobody complained.
“No,” Vincent said.
Claire blinked. “No?”
“You are not going.”
“It’s my family’s music box.”
“It is also the reason Russo is trying to kill you.”
“I can talk to her. She’ll give it to me.”
“Russo’s people are likely already watching her house.”
“Then your people can protect us.”
Vincent’s eyes lifted to hers.
“I can protect you better if you are here.”
Claire laughed once, without humor. “Your house was attacked less than twelve hours ago.”
The room went quiet.
She knew she had struck a nerve.
Vincent leaned closer, voice low. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
Claire’s anger faltered.
For all his power, he looked like a man carrying an impossible responsibility. Every broken window. Every bullet. Every person in danger because of him.
Still, she refused to back down.
“That woman is in danger because of me,” Claire said. “I’m going.”
Vincent stared at her for a long moment.
Then he folded the map.
“Fine.”
Claire hadn’t expected him to agree.
“But you follow every instruction I give,” he said. “No arguments. No sudden decisions. You stay with Daniel at all times.”
“I’m not a child.”
“No,” Vincent said. “You’re a mother who keeps trying to sacrifice herself. That makes you more dangerous than any man Russo has.”
Three hours later, they left the estate in a smaller convoy.
Claire sat in the back of an armored SUV with Owen, Daniel, and Vincent. Owen wore a puffy red coat Rosa had bought from somewhere overnight. He held a tablet in his lap, watching cartoons with headphones.
Vincent had insisted Owen stay behind.
Claire had refused.
“If Russo is watching the house, he could come there,” she said. “My son stays where I can see him.”
Vincent didn’t like it.
But he understood.
As they drove through the gray winter landscape, Claire finally asked the question that had been haunting her.
“Why did Adam come to you?”
Vincent looked out the window.
“Because he knew my father had done business with Russo. He believed I would understand what the ledger meant.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why help him?”
Vincent’s fingers tightened slightly against his knee.
“Because Adam had a photograph of Owen in his wallet.”
Claire’s throat closed.
“He showed it to me,” Vincent continued. “He said he had made mistakes, but his son deserved a life that wasn’t built on them.”
Claire stared at him.
“Adam was scared,” Vincent said. “But he was brave.”
Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them.
For years, she had hated Adam for leaving.
For lying.
For dying.
Now she didn’t know what to feel.
They arrived at Evelyn Hart’s house just after noon.
It was a small white cottage with blue shutters and a porch decorated with faded Christmas lights. It looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Vincent’s men spread out immediately.
Daniel spoke quietly into his radio.
“Movement in the rear tree line.”
Vincent turned to Claire. “Stay in the vehicle.”
Claire nodded.
Then she saw the front door open.
An elderly woman stepped onto the porch.
Behind her stood a man holding a gun to her back.
Claire’s blood turned to ice.
Russo’s man smiled.
He lifted a phone.
A message appeared on Vincent’s screen.
COME INSIDE ALONE, MORETTI. OR THE OLD WOMAN DIES.
Vincent’s face became unreadable.
“No,” Claire whispered.
He stepped toward the house.
Claire grabbed his arm. “You can’t.”
“He wants me.”
“He wants all of us.”
Vincent looked at Daniel. “Get them out.”
Claire knew what that meant.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No!” Her voice cracked. “You go in there alone, he kills you. Then he comes for Owen anyway.”
Vincent’s gaze softened.
“This is what I do.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
Before he could stop her, Claire opened the SUV door.
Daniel caught her arm.
“Ma’am—”
Claire looked at the house.
Then at the old woman trembling on the porch.
Then at Vincent.
“I know where the ledger is,” she said.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“You said you didn’t.”
“I didn’t. But I know how to find it.”
She walked forward, hands raised.
The gunman shouted, “Stop!”
Claire stopped halfway across the snowy yard.
“My name is Claire Bennett,” she called. “The ledger belongs to me.”
The man laughed. “Then bring it here.”
“I will,” she said. “But you let Mrs. Hart go first.”
The man looked toward someone inside the house.
A moment later, Antonio Russo himself stepped into view.
He was younger than Claire expected. Mid-thirties. Beautiful in the polished, dangerous way some men were. He wore a black suit beneath an expensive winter coat, no hat despite the cold.
His smile was almost friendly.
“Claire Bennett,” he said. “Your husband caused me a great deal of trouble.”
Claire forced herself not to shake.
“You killed him.”
Russo tilted his head. “Your husband made choices.”
Vincent stepped beside Claire.
Russo’s smile faded.
“Ah,” he said. “The king of Rochester.”
“I’m not a king,” Vincent replied.
“No,” Russo said. “You’re worse. You still think you can be a good man.”
Claire felt Vincent tense beside her.
Russo lifted the music box.
It was smaller than Claire remembered.
Blue paint chipped at the edges. Silver ballerina frozen in the center.
“Come get it,” Russo said.
Then the gunman behind Mrs. Hart pressed his weapon harder against her back.
Claire took another step.
Vincent grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t,” he said.
But Claire looked at him, and in that moment she understood something.
Russo wanted Vincent angry.
He wanted violence.
He wanted Vincent to become exactly what everyone feared.
Claire took a breath.
Then she did the last thing Russo expected.
She smiled.
“You opened it wrong,” she said.
Russo frowned.
“The music box,” Claire said. “You opened it wrong.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“The ledger isn’t inside the box.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
Adam had been clever. If he had hidden something inside that music box, he would never have put it somewhere obvious.
Russo stepped closer.
“Tell me where it is.”
Claire looked at the tiny silver ballerina.
“Turn the song key three times,” she said. “Then press the left eye of the ballerina.”
Russo hesitated.
Then he did it.
Click.
A hidden compartment opened beneath the base.
Inside was a small brass key.
Russo stared at it.
Claire had no idea what it opened.
But Vincent did.
His eyes flashed.
“The locker,” he said.
Adam had left a locker.
Somewhere.
Russo realized it at the same time.
And in the instant his attention shifted, Daniel’s team moved.
Gunfire erupted.
Vincent shoved Claire to the ground, covering her with his body as chaos exploded across the snow.
When it ended, Russo was gone.
But Mrs. Hart was safe.
May you like
And in Claire’s gloved hand was the brass key.
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