Chapter 3: The Contract
1219 Words
He's lying."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Nobody responded.
The assassin's laughter echoed through the ballroom, scraping against my nerves.
My father couldn't be dead.
I'd seen him tonight.
Hadn't I?
I searched the crowd desperately, looking for a familiar face.
A familiar suit.
Anything.
But the more I looked, the worse it became.
I couldn't remember seeing him.
Not clearly.
Only knowing he was supposed to be there.
The realization hit me like a punch.
Luca was watching me.
Not with sympathy.
With focus.
As if he was studying every reaction.
"Take her outside," he ordered.
I rounded on him.
"I'm not a package."
"No."
"Then stop talking about me like one."
His expression didn't change.
"The police will be here soon."
"Good."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"You don't want the police involved."
"Why? Because it'll inconvenience you?"
The assassin laughed again.
I was beginning to hate that sound.
"She doesn't know anything."
One of Luca's men struck him across the face.
Blood splattered onto the marble.
The smile remained.
Luca didn't even look at him.
His attention stayed on me.
"You're leaving."
"No."
The word barely left my mouth before he stepped closer.
Not threateningly.
Not aggressively.
Yet somehow every nerve in my body reacted.
"We can do this here," he said quietly, "or we can do it outside."
I folded my arms.
"Do what?"
"Argue."
For a second, I almost laughed.
Then I remembered there was a dead body behind the kitchen.
A body that might belong to my father.
The thought wiped away any amusement.
Luca must have seen it happen.
Because his voice softened slightly.
"Come with me."
I hated that the request sounded different from the order.
Hated that part of me noticed.
Before I could respond, my brother appeared.
His face had gone pale.
Paler than before.
That alone terrified me.
"Elena."
I turned toward him immediately.
"Tell me he's wrong."
My brother didn't answer.
The silence felt familiar.
Too familiar.
Every terrible truth tonight seemed to begin with silence.
My stomach dropped.
"No."
His gaze lowered.
My knees nearly gave out.
No.
No.
No.
The word repeated endlessly inside my head.
My father couldn't be dead.
He'd been impossible.
Infuriating.
Controlling.
But he couldn't just—
A hand brushed against my elbow.
I jerked away instantly.
Luca withdrew his hand.
His face remained unreadable.
"Take me to him."
My voice sounded strange.
Thin.
Distant.
My brother opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
That was all the answer I needed.
My father was dead.
The reality settled over me slowly.
Like cold water filling a room.
The assassin smiled.
"Now we're getting somewhere."
Luca finally looked at him.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"Take him downstairs."
The assassin's smile vanished.
For the first time all night, fear appeared in his eyes.
Real fear.
The kind that couldn't be hidden.
"No."
Two men grabbed his arms.
The assassin struggled immediately.
"No."
They dragged him backward.
His panic grew with every step.
"Wait."
Nobody listened.
"WAIT."
The ballroom doors slammed shut behind him.
Silence followed.
A heavy silence.
The kind people felt rather than heard.
Then Luca turned to me.
"We're leaving."
I laughed bitterly.
"There it is again."
"What?"
"You deciding things for me."
"Someone has to."
My eyes narrowed.
"Careful."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
Not quite a smile.
Not quite mockery.
Something in between.
Unfortunately, my attention shifted before I could decide which.
One of his men approached carrying a tablet.
Luca glanced at the screen.
Something flashed across his face.
Gone almost immediately.
But I caught it.
Surprise.
The sight was so unexpected that I stared.
Luca noticing surprise on a screen felt like watching a statue blink.
"What happened?" I asked.
Nobody answered.
The guard hesitated.
Then quietly said, "Sir..."
Luca held out his hand.
The tablet was surrendered immediately.
He studied the screen.
His eyes darkened.
My patience snapped.
"What happened?"
This time he looked at me.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then he turned the screen around.
A security camera image filled the display.
The timestamp showed less than twenty minutes earlier.
I frowned.
The image showed the ballroom entrance.
Guests arriving.
Staff moving around.
Nothing unusual.
Then I saw him.
My father.
Walking through the front doors.
Alive.
My breath caught.
"See?"
I looked at my brother.
"He's alive."
Nobody looked relieved.
Nobody smiled.
Confusion crept up my spine.
I looked back at the screen.
My father entered the building.
Stopped.
Turned slightly.
Then greeted someone.
The camera quality wasn't perfect.
But it was clear enough.
The person he greeted looked exactly like him.
The tablet nearly slipped from my hands.
"What..."
My voice failed.
Two identical men stood side by side.
One was my father.
The other...
The other was impossible.
My brother swore under his breath.
The video continued.
Both men walked out of frame.
Together.
I stared.
My thoughts tripped over each other.
Twin?
Double?
Impersonator?
Nothing made sense.
The silence around me grew heavier.
Finally, Luca spoke.
"Now you understand the problem."
I didn't.
Not even close.
But I understood enough.
Someone had been pretending to be my father.
Or my father had been pretending to be someone else.
Neither possibility was comforting.
"What was on the paper?"
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Luca's gaze sharpened.
For a moment I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he reached into his jacket.
The folded paper appeared.
He handed it to me.
I unfolded it carefully.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
There were only six words written on the page.
Six words.
Nothing more.
I read them once.
Then again.
And again.
The letters refused to change.
The bride belongs to us.
The blood drained from my face.
I looked up.
"What does that mean?"
Nobody answered.
The problem was that everyone looked like they already knew.
Everyone except me.
My brother looked sick.
Luca looked dangerous.
The guards exchanged uneasy glances.
A horrible thought surfaced.
"What did my father do?"
Silence.
Again.
The answer was always silence.
Then Luca took a step toward me.
"That's what we're going to find out."
Before I could respond, the ballroom doors burst open.
One of his men rushed inside.
Breathless.
Panicked.
The sight alone sent alarm through the room.
"Sir."
Luca turned.
"What now?"
The guard swallowed.
"They broke into the mansion."
The room went still.
"What was taken?" Luca asked.
The man's face tightened.
His eyes shifted toward me.
A chill ran down my spine.
Not again.
Not another look.
Not another secret everyone seemed to know except me.
Finally, the guard answered.
"They didn't take anything."
Luca frowned.
"Then why are you here?"
The man inhaled sharply.
As if preparing himself.
Then he delivered the words that changed everything.
"Because they left something behind."
"What?"
The guard hesitated.
My pulse quickened.
Luca's patience visibly thinned.
"What?"
The guard looked directly at me.
And suddenly I knew I wasn't going to like the answer.
Not even a little.
"They left a photograph."
My stomach tightened.
"A photograph of what?"
The guard's voice dropped.
"Of Miss Elena."
The room went silent.
Completely silent.
Then he added the part that made my blood run cold.
"It was taken inside her bedroom."
- Writer
