Chapter 2 - The Key Hidden Inside the Wall
The next morning, Grace woke to the smell of coffee.
She sat up sharply.
For several seconds, she couldn't remember where she was.
Then she saw Dominic Romano standing in her kitchen.
Her heart nearly stopped.
He was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his tie missing, his hair slightly disheveled.
He looked less like a feared businessman and more like a man who had wandered into the wrong apartment.
Grace grabbed a pillow.
"How did you get in?"
"You gave me the spare key."
"I absolutely did not."
He lifted an eyebrow.
"You gave Rose permission to let me in during an emergency."
"That is not the same thing."
"She gave it to me."
Grace stared.
"Of course she did."
Dominic poured coffee into another mug.
"Sit."
"No."
"You're going to faint."
"I am not going to faint."
"You haven't eaten."
She paused.
"How do you know?"
"I've been here since six."
Grace looked at the clock.
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to make sure no one returned."
Something about his answer made her pause.
He wasn't teasing.
He wasn't flirting.
He was simply there.
Watching.
Protecting.
She sat.
Dominic placed toast and eggs in front of her.
"You cooked?"
"No."
"Good."
He looked offended.
"I can cook."
"That is not what the internet says."
He almost smiled.
Grace picked up her fork.
Then she remembered.
"The man from last night."
"He's being questioned."
"By police?"
Dominic nodded.
"Is he going to jail?"
"Probably."
"Why does he want whatever I supposedly have?"
Dominic sat across from her.
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
Grace stared at him.
"You said there was a secret in my salon."
"There is."
"How would you know?"
"My father used to own the building."
Grace froze.
"What?"
He nodded.
"Before your family."
"My grandmother bought it."
"She did."
"You knew?"
"Yes."
Grace set down her fork.
"How much do you know about my family?"
"Not enough."
"That answer is getting annoying."
"It should."
He leaned forward.
"Your grandmother, Evelyn Miller, was one of the most trusted bookkeepers connected to my father's businesses."
Grace blinked.
"My grandmother was a bookkeeper."
"Yes."
"Not a criminal."
"I didn't say she was."
Grace frowned.
"What happened to her?"
"She disappeared."
"No."
"That's what everyone believed."
Grace stood.
"My grandmother died when I was nine."
Dominic's expression changed.
"Are you sure?"
"My mother told me."
"Your mother may have been mistaken."
Grace stared.
She had spent fifteen years believing she knew how her grandmother died.
A stroke.
Peacefully.
At home.
Dominic reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a faded photograph.
An older woman stood beside a younger man.
Grace recognized her instantly.
Grandmother Evelyn.
Next to her stood Dominic's father.
"What is this?"
"My father kept it."
"When?"
"Two days before Evelyn disappeared."
Grace looked closely.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
If anything happens to me, the key is where the scissors sleep.
She stared.
"The key."
Dominic nodded.
"Exactly."
Grace thought of her salon.
The old antique cabinet near the back wall.
The pair of silver scissors that had belonged to her grandmother.
They had been mounted inside a wooden frame for as long as Grace could remember.
She grabbed her coat.
Dominic stood.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"Grace."
"This is my salon."
"And someone broke into it last night."
She sighed.
"Fine."
They drove there together.
The salon looked almost normal.
Almost.
One drawer had been emptied.
A cabinet door hung open.
The framed scissors on the wall were slightly crooked.
Grace reached up.
The frame came loose.
Behind it, hidden in a narrow cavity, was a brass key.
And beneath the key was a folded note.
Grace opened it.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Her grandmother's.
Grace,
If you found this, then the old promise was broken.
Do not trust anyone who tells you that the Romano family was responsible for what happened to me.
But do not trust them blindly either.
The key opens something your mother was never supposed to find.
Protect it.
And protect yourself.
Grace looked at Dominic.
He had gone still.
"You know what this opens."
He nodded.
"My father's private archive."
"Where?"
"Under Romano Holdings."
Grace stared.
"Why would my grandmother hide something belonging to your father?"
"Because it wasn't his."
He took the key.
"What was it?"
"Evidence."
"Against whom?"
"My father."
Grace felt the room grow colder.
"Your father was involved in something."
"Yes."
"Something serious."
"Very."
She looked at the note again.
"Why would my grandmother trust you?"
Dominic's eyes softened.
"She didn't."
Grace frowned.
"What?"
"She trusted my mother."
Rose.
The same woman who had invited Grace to her birthday.
Grace suddenly understood why Rose had been so determined to have her there.
The dinner.
The dancing.
The strange invitation.
It wasn't coincidence.
Rose had wanted them to meet.
They returned to the Romano building.
Dominic took her to a private elevator.
The lower level smelled of stone and old paper.
A steel door stood at the end of a corridor.
He inserted the brass key.
The lock clicked.
Inside were shelves.
Files.
Boxes.
Photographs.
And one enormous wooden desk.
Grace stepped inside.
On the desk sat a black folder.
Her name was written on it.
GRACE MILLER.
She stared.
"I've never seen this."
Dominic opened it.
The first document was dated twenty years ago.
The day Grace was born.
There was a photograph of a newborn baby.
Her.
Then a second document.
A transfer record.
Money.
Large amounts.
Repeated payments to a children's hospital.
Grace looked up.
"What is this?"
Dominic read silently.
His face changed.
"Your father."
"My father?"
"Thomas Miller."
Grace shook her head.
"My father died when I was five."
"I know."
"What did he do?"
Dominic turned another page.
"He worked for my father."
Grace's stomach tightened.
"Doing what?"
"Transportation."
"Of what?"
Dominic hesitated.
"People."
Grace stepped back.
"No."
"Grace—"
"No."
"My father wasn't involved in that."
"I don't know."
She stared at the papers.
"You said my grandmother wasn't guilty."
"She wasn't."
"Then what did she know?"
Dominic took a deep breath.
"She discovered children were being moved through shell charities."
Grace covered her mouth.
"My father?"
"He tried to stop it."
"And your father?"
"He tried to silence him."
Grace looked at the file.
"Then why am I here?"
Dominic turned the page.
There was one final note.
Thomas Miller's daughter must never know.
Grace felt tears sting her eyes.
"What happened to my father?"
Dominic said quietly, "He disappeared the same week your grandmother did."
A noise came from the hallway.
Both turned.
Someone had entered the archive.
Dominic pulled Grace behind him.
A gunshot struck the wall.
He pushed her toward the floor.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Dominic moved.
Fast.
He grabbed the intruder before the man could fire again.
They crashed into the shelves.
The stranger wore a mask.
Grace saw a tattoo on his wrist.
A black crown.
Dominic recognized it.
His face went pale.
"The Crown."
The masked man smiled.
"Tell your father I'm back."
Dominic froze.
"My father is dead."
"Not everyone believes that."
The man broke free and disappeared through a hidden exit.
Grace stared at Dominic.
"Your father might still be alive?"
Dominic's eyes remained fixed on the empty doorway.
"That's impossible."
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Rose was crying.
"Dominic."
"What happened?"
"Someone took your father's old safe deposit records."
"Who?"
Rose whispered a name.
"Gianna."
Dominic's expression hardened.
His younger sister.
The woman Grace had briefly met at the party.
The woman who had hugged her and asked about her salon.
The woman Grace had immediately liked.
Dominic ended the call.
Grace looked at him.
"What's wrong?"
"My sister is missing."
The room seemed to contract.
And Grace suddenly understood that the dance had never been the real beginning.
Someone had wanted Dominic close to her.
May you like
Someone had wanted them together.
And now both their families were moving toward the same secret.
