Chapter 1 - THE RED SEAL
Emily had worked at Bellucci’s for eleven months.
She needed the job more than she needed her pride.
Her mother’s assisted-living facility outside Worcester cost $3,800 a month. Emily’s younger brother helped when he could, but he had two children and a mortgage.
So Emily worked doubles.
She smiled at rude customers.
She ignored wandering hands.
She apologized for steaks she hadn’t cooked and reservations she hadn’t lost.
And when wealthy people treated her like furniture, she reminded herself that furniture didn’t have medical bills.
But Madeline Cross was different.
Madeline had been coming to Bellucci’s for six months.
And until three nights ago, she had barely noticed Emily existed.
Then everything changed.
“Get her another shirt,” Dominic said.
His voice was quiet.
Madeline glanced at him.
“Dominic, she ruined dinner.”
“No.”
He looked at the wineglass.
“You did.”
A muscle moved in Madeline’s jaw.
Around them, conversations cautiously began again.
Emily felt heat crawl up her neck.
She didn’t want this.
Being defended by Dominic Russo was almost as dangerous as being disliked by Madeline Cross.
“Mr. Russo, it’s fine.”
Dominic looked at her.
Emily immediately regretted speaking.
There was something unnerving about his attention.
He didn’t stare.
He studied.
“It doesn’t look fine.”
“I can change.”
Madeline gave a soft laugh.
“Then change.”
Emily turned.
“Wait.”
Dominic’s voice stopped her.
He nodded toward her sleeve.
“What’s that?”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“The wine?”
“The wax.”
For one terrible second, Emily forgot how to breathe.
Madeline reached for her champagne.
Too quickly.
Emily noticed.
Dominic noticed too.
“It’s probably from the kitchen,” Emily said.
Dominic held her gaze.
“The kitchen uses red sealing wax?”
Emily said nothing.
Madeline sighed.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Dominic. Maybe she has a candle at home.”
Dominic didn’t look at his fiancée.
“Maybe.”
That single word somehow made Madeline more nervous than an accusation would have.
Emily forced herself to move.
“I should change.”
Dominic finally nodded.
She walked toward the service hallway.
She could feel Madeline watching her all the way to the kitchen door.
Five minutes later, Emily was standing in the employee restroom with shaking hands.
She locked the door.
Then checked it twice.
The red wax wasn’t from a candle.
And it wasn’t from the kitchen.
She touched the tiny hardened spot on her sleeve.
Three nights earlier, Emily had been closing the private dining room upstairs when she heard voices coming from Room Seven.
That room was supposed to be empty.
She had opened the door.
Just slightly.
Madeline was inside.
But she wasn’t alone.
A man Emily had never seen before stood beside the fireplace.
On the table between them sat a thick cream-colored envelope sealed with dark red wax.
Emily remembered Madeline’s voice.
“You said Russo would never see the original.”
The man had answered quietly.
“He won’t.”
Emily should have walked away.
Instead, she had stayed.
Because then Madeline said something else.
Something that made no sense.
“Once Dominic signs on Friday, his father’s trust becomes irrelevant.”
Emily had leaned closer.
Her serving tray brushed the door.
A soft metallic scrape.
The voices stopped.
Emily ran.
She had thought no one saw her.
Until the following morning.
Madeline came into Bellucci’s for breakfast.
She specifically requested Emily.
And smiled at her for forty straight minutes.
That had frightened Emily more than anger would have.
Then the accidents started.
A customer claimed Emily stole $200 from his coat.
Someone reported her for drinking during a shift.
Yesterday, her manager found prescription pills inside her locker.
They weren’t hers.
And tonight—
Madeline poured wine on her in front of Dominic Russo.
Emily understood the message.
Leave.
Or next time, the accusation would be something she couldn’t survive.
A knock sounded.
Emily jumped.
“Em?”
It was her manager, Ray.
She opened the door.
Ray looked at her stained uniform.
“What happened?”
“You saw what happened.”
His eyes dropped.
That told her everything.
“Ray.”
“I can’t get involved.”
“She’s trying to get me fired.”
“I know.”
Emily stared at him.
“You know?”
Ray rubbed both hands over his face.
“Go home after your shift.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Something in his voice made her cold.
“Ray, what happened?”
He leaned closer.
“Someone went through your locker again.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“What did they take?”
“I don’t know.”
Her hand immediately went to her apron pocket.
Empty.
The key was gone.
Downstairs, Madeline was laughing again.
Dominic watched her.
She was telling a story about a gallery opening in Manhattan.
Everyone at the table smiled at the appropriate moments.
Dominic didn’t.
He was thinking about wax.
His family had used dark red sealing wax for decades.
Not for invitations.
Not for decoration.
For private legal documents.
Only three people still had access to the Russo seal.
Dominic.
His attorney.
And his father.
His father had been dead for fourteen months.
Madeline touched his wrist.
“You’re somewhere else.”
Dominic looked at her hand.
Then at her face.
“Emily.”
Madeline’s smile held.
“What about her?”
“You knew her name.”
A pause.
Barely half a second.
But Dominic saw it.
“She introduced herself.”
“No.”
Madeline removed her hand.
“Then I must have heard the manager say it.”
“He didn’t.”
Her eyes hardened.
“Are you interrogating me over a waitress?”
Dominic leaned back.
“I asked a question.”
“And I answered.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Madeline relaxed slightly.
Then Dominic added:
“Badly.”
Silence settled between them.
Madeline reached for her champagne again.
This time, her hand trembled.
Just once.
Dominic stood.
“Dinner’s over.”
Madeline blinked. “Excuse me?”
“For us.”
Their guests looked anywhere except at the table.
Dominic picked up his phone and sent one message to his head of security.
LOCK THE PRIVATE FLOOR. NO ONE LEAVES THROUGH THE SERVICE EXIT.
Madeline read his face and recovered quickly. “You are making a scene over a stain.”
“No,” Dominic said. “I’m ending a scene you started.”
He walked away from the table before she could answer.
Ray was waiting near the kitchen when Dominic entered the service corridor. Emily had changed into a spare white shirt, but the cuffs were too large and the collar sat wrong. She looked smaller without the black apron, younger than Dominic had realized.
She also looked terrified.
“Mr. Russo,” Ray began.
Dominic raised a hand. “Room Seven. Three nights ago. Who had it?”
Ray went pale.
Emily stared at him.
“That room was blocked,” Ray said. “No reservation.”
“I didn’t ask whether it had a reservation.”
Ray swallowed. “Madeline asked me to leave it open.”
“And you did?”
“She said it was for wedding business.”
Dominic turned to Emily. “Tell me what you saw.”
Madeline’s heels clicked in the hall behind him.
“Dominic, don’t.”
He didn’t turn around.
Emily’s eyes flicked toward Madeline, then back to Dominic.
“I saw her with a man,” Emily said.
Madeline laughed once. “This is absurd.”
“What man?” Dominic asked.
“I don’t know his name. Late fifties, maybe. Gray hair. Navy coat. He had a leather folder with gold initials.”
Dominic’s face changed by a fraction.
“What initials?”
Emily closed her eyes, searching her memory.
“E.M.”
Madeline stopped moving.
Dominic finally looked at her.
His attorney was Elliot Mercer.
Elliot had handled Victor Russo’s estate.
Elliot had drafted the Friday agreement Dominic was scheduled to sign.
And Elliot was one of the only living people with access to the Russo seal.
Madeline crossed her arms. “She could have heard his name from you.”
“I didn’t say his name,” Dominic replied.
No one spoke.
Then Ray cleared his throat.
“There’s something else.”
Dominic looked at him.
Ray held out a small plastic evidence bag normally used for broken glass or lost jewelry. Inside it was a strip of black fabric.
“What is that?” Emily asked.
“Found it caught in the hinge of your locker.”
Dominic took the bag.
The fabric was expensive. Wool. Dark. A tiny silver thread ran along one edge.
Madeline’s face remained composed.
But Dominic had spent enough time around liars to know that composure could be another kind of panic.
“What was taken from your locker?” he asked Emily.
She hesitated.
“A key.”
“What key?”
Emily’s eyes filled with something that wasn’t fear this time.
Guilt.
“My mother gave it to me yesterday.”
Dominic waited.
“She used to work nights as a private care aide,” Emily said. “Before she got sick.”
“For who?”
Emily looked at him.
“Your father.”
The corridor seemed to narrow.
Dominic didn’t move.
“My father had three nurses.”
“She wasn’t a nurse. She was through an agency. Mostly overnight care during the last four months.”
He remembered then.
A quiet woman with graying blond hair who used to sit outside Victor’s study and read paperback mysteries while the old man refused to sleep.
“Helen,” Dominic said.
Emily nodded. “Helen Carter.”
Madeline’s expression finally cracked.
It was tiny.
But Emily saw it.
So did Dominic.
“What did she tell you about the key?” he asked.
Emily’s voice dropped. “She has memory problems now. Some days are better than others. Yesterday she suddenly remembered your father. She made me take the key and said if I ever saw Dominic Russo, I had to give it to him directly.”
“Did she say what it opened?”
“Just a number.”
“What number?”
“Three-seventeen.”
Madeline turned away.
Dominic saw it.
“Where are you going?”
“To get my coat.”
“No.”
She looked back at him, fury flashing through the polished mask. “You don’t get to order me around because a waitress tells you a ghost story.”
Dominic walked closer, stopping several feet away.
“My father is dead. My attorney is drafting a document that changes control of his trust. A waitress sees that attorney in a locked room with my fiancée discussing an original document. Then she finds my family’s sealing wax on her uniform. And tonight, the same waitress discovers a key my father gave her mother has disappeared.”
He paused.
“You’re right, Madeline. I don’t get to order you around.”
His voice became colder.
“But I do get to decide whether I marry you.”
For the first time, Madeline had no answer.
A security guard appeared at the far end of the corridor.
“Mr. Russo.”
Dominic turned.
“We checked the cameras like you asked.”
“And?”
“The employee hallway camera went offline for eleven minutes tonight.”
Madeline smiled faintly.
Then the guard continued.
“But the loading dock camera stayed live.”
He held out his phone.
On the screen was a grainy still image of a man leaving the service entrance eighteen minutes earlier.
Gray hair.
Navy coat.
Leather folder.
Emily whispered, “That’s him.”
Dominic stared at the image.
Elliot Mercer had been at Bellucci’s tonight.
He had arrived after Dominic.
He had never come to the table.
And in his right hand, barely visible beneath the leather folder, was a small brass key with a white tag attached to it.
May you like
The tag read:
317.
