Chapter 2 - The Cellar of Truth
The subterranean level of the Moretti estate smelled of aged French oak, damp stone, and impending doom. Suspended sixty feet below the ground, the reinforced cellar had been constructed by Vincent’s grandfather during the bloody turf wars of the 1970s. It was soundproof, cold, and inescapable.
Vanessa Sterling sat on an iron folding chair in the center of the vaulted chamber, shivering violently. Her designer silk blouse was stained, her manicured nails broken, her immaculate blonde hair falling in disheveled strands around her tear-streaked face. Two armed Moretti sentries stood motionless against the stone pillars, their assault rifles held in low-ready positions.
The heavy steel door groaned open.
Vincent entered. He had discarded his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and wore a black leather trench coat that reached his knees. He did not yell. He did not storm in. His calm was far more terrifying than any outburst of rage. He pulled an identical metal chair across the flagstones, the screech of metal on stone echoing through the vaulted ceiling, and placed it two feet in front of Vanessa.
He sat down, rested his elbows on his knees, and interlaced his fingers.
"Four years," Vincent began, his voice a chilling monotone. "Four years I took your calls. I sat across from your father at board meetings. I let you comfort me on the anniversary of the night Elena vanished. I allowed you into my bed, thinking you were the one person who understood my grief."
"Vincent, darling, please," Vanessa sobbed, reaching toward him with trembling hands. "You don't understand the pressure my father put on me! He told me Elena was going to ruin the family empire. He said she was gathering evidence against the old board members—"
"Shut your mouth," Vincent commanded softly.
Vanessa’s teeth clicked shut instantly.
"Elena didn't care about the board. She cared about the child in her womb," Vincent whispered, leaning closer until Vanessa could see the cold, murderous fire burning in the depths of his pupils. "You forged my signature on abandonment papers. You intercepted my calls. You paid off my drivers. And then, you had Richard hire Daniel Bennett."
"Daniel Bennett was an operative!" Vanessa blurted out, her composure completely shattering. "He wasn't an ordinary construction worker! He worked black-bag logistics for my father’s corporate security firm! My father hired him to take the baby straight from the underground clinic in Racine to an undisclosed foster family in Montreal! But Daniel went rogue! He took the child and hid her! He betrayed my father!"
Vincent’s jaw muscles bunched. "He didn't betray your father, Vanessa. He had a conscience. Something your bloodline clearly lacks. Where is Grace?"
"I don't know!" she wailed. "I swear to you on my mother’s soul, Vincent! I don't know where Daniel took her! Only Daniel knew! My father spent millions hunting him down. When my father’s men finally cornered Daniel at that construction site, Daniel laughed in their faces. He told them he had already hidden the girl where Richard would never dare to look. And then... and then my father ordered the crane operator to drop the steel girders."
Vincent closed his eyes for three seconds, his chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths. Clara’s husband hadn't died in a tragic workplace accident. He had been executed because he refused to yield an innocent four-year-old girl to a pack of wolves.
"And Clara?" Vincent asked, opening his eyes. "How did Clara end up working in my mansion eight months ago?"
Vanessa looked down, tears dripping onto her designer slacks. "My father... he found out that Clara was pregnant. Daniel had left her with nothing. Richard suspected Daniel might have hidden the coordinates or the proof in Clara’s possession without her knowledge. So Richard pulled strings with your agency to place Clara in your house. It was supposed to be two birds with one stone: keep Clara under surveillance, and if the child she carried showed any signs of Daniel’s secrets, Richard could seize her. But then Clara became attached to you. You started protecting her! And when I found that silver locket this morning..."
"Where is it?" Vincent demanded.
"In my vanity," Vanessa whispered, her voice shrinking to nothing. "The top drawer. Beneath my velvet jewelry cases. It has an encrypted microchip welded inside the silver casting. My father was supposed to send his tech team tonight to retrieve it. That's why I had to get Elena’s suitcase out! The suitcase was in the secret annex of the attic. I realized that if you ever found Elena’s phone, the relay signal would activate the moment it connected to the house Wi-Fi!"
Vincent slowly stood up. He looked down at the woman he had nearly married with absolute disgust.
"You knew my child was out there, alone, motherless, hunted by your father's mercenaries," Vincent said, his voice dropping to a deathly whisper. "You watched me mourn every single day. You watched Clara carry the baby of the man your father murdered, forcing her to scrub your floors and drag heavy luggage down marble steps while she was in labor."
"Vincent, I loved you!" she screamed, lunging forward, but the guards instantly seized her arms, forcing her back into the chair. "I did it all for you! So you could be free of her!"
"You didn't love me," Vincent said, turning his back to her. "You loved the power of the Moretti crown. And now, you are going to lose everything."
He walked toward the heavy steel door. "Lock the vault. Cut the lights. No water, no food until Richard Sterling contacts us. If she screams, gag her."
"Vincent! No! Vincent, please! Don't leave me down here!"
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The steel door slammed shut with a finality that sounded like a vault closing over a grave.
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