Chapter 3 - THE GRAVE THAT WASN’T EMPTYRain fell over the DeLuca cemetery just before dawn.
Julian stood beneath a black umbrella, staring at the name carved into the stone.
VINCENT DE LUCA.
His father.
Dead for eight years.
The man Julian had blamed for almost everything wrong with the family.
The man who had taught him that weakness was something enemies could smell.
Thomas stood ten feet away.
He looked older than he had the previous night.
“What happened to Claire?” Julian asked.
Thomas stared at the grave.
“Your father knew she was alive.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“My father was dead before I learned she disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“So explain.”
Thomas reached into his coat.
He removed an old brass key.
“This opens the family vault.”
Julian frowned.
“My father’s vault?”
“Yes.”
“Why would Claire be connected to my father?”
“Because Claire found something.”
“What?”
Thomas looked at him.
“The reason your father ordered her killed.”
Julian’s stomach twisted.
“He ordered her killed?”
“I said he ordered it.”
“Did he succeed?”
“No.”
Julian stared at the old man.
“Then Claire survived.”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
“For a while.”
Julian’s anger disappeared.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas handed him the key.
“You’ll understand inside.”
The vault stood behind the main mausoleum.
Julian unlocked the door.
Dust filled the air.
Old ledgers lined the shelves.
Documents sat inside locked steel cabinets.
Then he saw it.
A photograph.
Claire.
Pregnant.
Julian’s hand shook.
The photograph had been taken four years ago.
Claire stood beside someone he recognized.
Nora.
Julian turned.
“Nora knew.”
Thomas nodded.
“She helped Claire escape.”
“Where did they go?”
“Not far.”
Julian studied the photograph.
“Who took this?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Your father.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted to know what Claire was carrying.”
Julian looked down.
His eyes stopped on Claire’s stomach.
“She was pregnant.”
Thomas said nothing.
Julian’s breathing became shallow.
“Whose child?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“You already know.”
“No.”
“Julian.”
“No.”
“You know.”
Julian threw the photograph across the room.
“Tell me!”
Thomas flinched.
“Claire was carrying your daughter.”
Everything stopped.
Rain struck the mausoleum roof.
Julian’s knees almost gave out.
“No.”
“Your father discovered the pregnancy.”
“And he wanted the baby?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because that child was next in line.”
Julian stared at him.
“Next in line for what?”
Thomas looked toward the sealed vault door.
“The DeLuca empire.”
Julian suddenly remembered Lily.
Her face.
Her eyes.
The dance.
The strange way she had spoken.
He pulled the photograph back toward himself.
There was writing on the back.
His father’s handwriting.
The girl must never reach Julian.
Julian stared.
A second note had been written beneath it.
Different handwriting.
Claire’s.
If he ever finds her, tell him I did not leave because I stopped loving him. I left because loving him would get our daughter killed.
Julian’s chest tightened.
“Where is Claire now?”
Thomas said nothing.
“Where is she?”
“She disappeared six weeks after this photograph.”
“Disappeared how?”
“She went into hiding.”
“Is she alive?”
Thomas stared at the floor.
“I thought she was.”
Julian stepped forward.
“You thought?”
Thomas slowly nodded.
“Because the last message she ever sent me contained only one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
Thomas looked at him.
They found me.
A sound came from behind them.
A metallic click.
Julian turned.
The vault door had locked.
Someone had closed it from the outside.
Thomas rushed to the handle.
It wouldn’t move.
Then smoke began entering through the ventilation grate.
Julian grabbed Thomas.
“What did you do?”
Thomas shook his head.
“I didn’t lock it.”
Julian pulled out his phone.
No signal.
The smoke thickened.
Thomas coughed.
And on the wall opposite them, illuminated by the emergency light, Julian noticed something carved into the stone.
May you like
A message.
CLAIRE WASN’T THE ONLY ONE WHO SURVIVED.
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