Chapter 4 - THE MAN FROM THE CLUB
Dante moved before Elena could reach the doorway.
Two guards swept into the corridor. Greg stood between them, soaked from the rain, his cheap suit wrinkled and his face shining with sweat. He held both hands up, though his eyes kept darting toward the elevator.
“I came to help,” Greg said. “I swear.”
“You followed her from the club?” Dante asked.
“No. I got a call. Someone told me to bring her the truth.”
“Who?”
Greg swallowed. “I don’t know. A woman. She said she could get me out of a situation I’m in.”
Dante’s gaze narrowed. “What situation?”
“The club’s books. Some money went missing. I didn’t steal it. I moved it because I was told to.”
“By whom?”
Greg’s lips trembled. “A man named Bellini.”
Dante’s guards exchanged a look. Bellini was a name Elena had heard in the nightclub whispered by men who thought employees could not understand them.
“Tell me about October 14,” Elena said.
Greg glanced at Dante, then back at her. “Your mother came to the Velvet Lounge that night. Years ago, before the club was renovated. She was looking for someone. She left a little girl’s bracelet at the bar and told me to give it to a man in a gray coat.”
“My mother never came here,” Elena said.
“She did. I was a busboy then. I remember because the man came back after closing and threatened the owner. He wanted the security tapes destroyed.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “Why didn’t you say this earlier?”
“Because I was twenty and scared. Because men like you make people disappear.”
“And now you’re not scared?”
“I’m terrified,” Greg admitted. “But whoever called me said they were going to hurt the girl if I stayed quiet.”
Elena’s pulse thudded in her ears. “What girl?”
Greg reached into his coat slowly and pulled out a small plastic evidence bag. Inside was a faded silver bracelet, its tiny engraved letters almost worn away.
ELENA.
She knew it instantly. Her mother had given it to her on her seventh birthday. Elena had lost it years ago and believed it had been thrown away.
“How did you get this?”
“The woman left it at my apartment,” Greg said. “With instructions to bring it to you.”
Dante took the bag from him, careful not to touch the bracelet. “This is bait.”
“I know,” Greg said. “But I didn’t know what else to do.”
A guard’s earpiece crackled. He listened, then turned to Dante. “Sir, the man from the transfer attempt has been identified. He used a temporary contractor badge. The hospital has locked down the service entrance.”
“Bring the footage to my car,” Dante said. “And keep this man here.”
Greg flinched when the guards took his arms. Elena stepped forward.
“Don’t hurt him.”
Dante looked at her. “He helped threaten you.”
“He also came here when he could have stayed silent.”
“That doesn’t make him innocent.”
“No,” Elena said. “But it means you don’t get to decide he deserves pain just because you can deliver it.”
The words landed harder than she expected. Dante’s face gave away almost nothing, but he told the guards to release Greg and keep him under observation instead.
Elena returned to Toby’s bedside. The boy had been moved to a protected room, and a nurse was checking his IV. She tucked the bracelet into her bag, refusing to let Dante keep another piece of her life.
“I’m taking Toby somewhere safe,” she said.
“Your apartment isn’t safe tonight.”
“Neither is your house by the river, according to my mother.”
Dante looked away.
“There is a secure guest suite at my townhouse,” he said. “Separate room, locked door, staff you can choose to trust. You can bring your own security if you want. Toby’s doctors can keep treating him here.”
“And what do you get?”
“The chance to find the person who forged your signature before they try again.”
“That isn’t the only reason.”
“No,” Dante admitted. “It isn’t.”
He pulled a folded document from his jacket. It was an old incident report, partially blacked out, with a date at the top: OCTOBER 14.
Elena scanned the page. Her mother’s name appeared beside a location: VANCEL RIVER HOUSE.
Beneath it was another name, handwritten in the margin.
DANTE VANCEL.
“You were there,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“And you said she disappeared.”
“I said she disappeared after she came to me.”
“Did you help her?”
Dante’s silence was an answer of its own.
Elena stepped back as if he had struck her. “You knew all along.”
“I knew part of the truth.”
“Then start telling the rest.”
He reached for the report, but Elena held on to it.
A message arrived on Dante’s phone. He read it once, and the color drained from his face.
“What is it?” Elena demanded.
Dante turned the screen toward her. A live photograph showed Toby’s empty hospital bed.
The caption beneath it contained six words:
May you like
*Bring Elena to the river house alone.*
The image had been taken less than a minute earlier.
