Chapter 2 - The Dead Man
I felt the air leave my lungs completely.
"That is impossible," I gasped, stepping back until my shoulders hit the door.
Vincent walked around the desk, the silver lighter crushed tightly in his fist.
"My brother was shot three times in the chest five years ago," he said coldly.
"The assassin left this exact lighter on his body as a calling card."
I shook my head violently, tears blurring my vision.
"David died in a car crash three years ago in Ohio," I pleaded.
Renzo stepped forward, resting his hand on the gun holstered at his waist.
"We investigated that crash, Clara," Renzo said, his voice stripped of any warmth.
"The body burned beyond recognition, but the dental records were flagged as tampered with."
My stomach violently churned as the reality of their words sank in.
The man I had loved, the father of my child, had faked his own death.
He had left me pregnant, broke, and mourning a grave that held a stranger.
"I didn't know," I sobbed, looking at Mia who was happily eating her chocolate.
Vincent grabbed my arm, his grip like a steel vice.
"Then why did you apply for a job inside my house?" he demanded.
I told him I was desperate, that the agency sent me here, that it was all a blind coincidence.
He studied my terrified face for five agonizing seconds.
"In my world, Clara, there is no such thing as a coincidence," he stated.
Suddenly, a deafening siren began to shriek through the walls of the estate.
Red emergency lights flashed to life outside the study windows.
One of the security guards pressed his earpiece, his face turning pale.
"Boss, the front gates have been breached by multiple armed hostiles," the guard shouted.
May you like
Vincent pulled a heavy pistol from his waistband and cocked it.
"It seems your dead husband finally came back to collect his widow," Vincent sneered.
