Chapter 3 - The Trap in the Hallway
Five minutes later, Enzo Rinaldi arrived with his entourage. This was a peace meeting to settle a brutal war over city supply lines. The judge began reading the dry, legal language of the agreement.
"Dock Route A, dock route B, shared inspection, neutral storage..."
Then came the emergency clause: "In the event of sudden leadership incapacity before final ratification, temporary stabilizing authority over the affected party's dock security routes shall pass to the named trustee."
The judge paused. "For the Moretti side, Marco Voss."
Enzo smiled faintly across the table. Jack looked at Marco. "You approved this language?"
Marco's voice was soft, reasonable. "Your father's old structure, Jack. If anything happens, someone trusted holds the line until succession is settled. That is all."
Jack watched him, trusting but alert. "Continue," he said.
I poured coffee down the table. When I reached Jack, he glanced at the pot. "Still nothing spilled."
"For now, sir," I whispered.
"Her hands are steady," Jack noted aloud to Marco.
Steady. That word echoed in my mind. It wasn't "heavy" or "slow" or "ruined," the words my ex-husband Ethan used when he looked at my post-pregnancy body and the old scars on my leg. It was a word of dignity.
Moments later, Victor snapped his fingers at me from the service door. "Reserve napkins. Service hall. Now."
I grabbed the linen basket and slipped into the cool, narrow corridor behind the suite. I pulled a sealed napkin pack from a lower shelf, but stopped dead when I heard voices around the corner near the east exit.
"After he signs," Marco's voice said coldly.
Victor answered him. "Twenty seconds. No sooner."
A third rough voice spoke up. "Rocco is blocked at the main stair."
"The false alarm pushes everyone off balance," Marco whispered. "Jack goes east to clear the floor. I take him the rest of the way."
"And the pen?" Victor asked. "The signature only has to look clean long enough."
"Once he is dead, the clause does the rest," Marco said softly. "Rinaldi takes the blame."
My pulse hammered in my ears. Jack was going to sign. A fake fire alarm would trigger panic. Victor would steer Jack into the blind corner of the east corridor, where Marco would kill him. Marco would inherit the Moretti empire under the emergency trustee clause, and a bloody war would tear the city apart.
Then Victor added, "And the waitress?"
Marco paused. "Which one?"
"The heavy one. Coffee service. She watches too much."
My blood ran cold. Marco sounded utterly bored when he replied: "No one listens to women who serve coffee."
I flinched, shifting my weight too fast. The napkin pack brushed against a metal shelf with a soft rattle.
"Who's there?" the rough voice barked.
I forced my expression into complete blankness, stepped around the corner, and held the napkins to my chest. Victor glared at me, his face pale. Marco studied my eyes, my trembling hands, my cheap shoes.
"Lily, isn't it?" Marco asked smoothly.
"Yes, sir. Just getting the napkins."
May you like
Marco smiled—a chilling, dismissive expression. "Then go back in, and move carefully."
They believed I was ignorant. They believed my position made me blind and deaf. I walked back into the Maragold suite carrying white linens in my arms and a execution plan behind my teeth.
