Chapter 3 - The Woman in the PhotographSimon ordered the footage displayed in the security room.
The penthouse had its own command center hidden behind a paneled wall. Screens covered every surface. Cameras watched the elevators, hallways, stairwells, garages, and streets below.
Natasha stood beside Simon as the video began.
The footage showed the service elevator opening at 11:42 p.m.
A woman stepped out wearing a long cream coat.
Her face was hidden by a scarf and a wide-brimmed hat.
But the coat was unmistakable.
Simon’s dead wife, Elena, had worn it on the night she was found unconscious in their bedroom.
The woman carried the black medical case.
She walked directly toward the private nursery.
The footage stopped.
Simon stared at the frozen image.
“Why does the camera cut out?”
The security chief looked uncomfortable. “The feed was interrupted.”
“By whom?”
“We’re still tracing it.”
Simon turned away from the screens.
“Find out.”
Natasha studied the image.
“Wait.”
Simon looked at her.
She pointed at the woman’s hand.
“She’s wearing a ring.”
“So?”
“Your wife wore a wedding ring?”
“She never removed it.”
“This woman isn’t wearing one.”
Simon looked again.
The black-and-white footage was grainy, but the left hand was visible. A thin silver band encircled the woman’s middle finger.
Natasha leaned closer.
“That isn’t a wedding ring.”
Simon’s expression tightened.
“What is it?”
“A signet.”
He glanced toward the security chief.
“Zoom in.”
The image enlarged. The ring showed a raised symbol—a snake curled around a dagger.
Simon’s face changed.
Natasha felt the temperature in the room drop.
“What does it mean?”
“No one in my family wears that.”
“You recognize it.”
“I recognize who does.”
He turned toward the security chief.
“Call Vincent.”
The security chief hesitated.
Simon’s voice sharpened. “Now.”
Natasha looked at him. “Who is Vincent?”
“My uncle.”
“Is he involved in your business?”
“He runs the family’s private medical network.”
That answer made her stomach turn.
Before Simon could say more, his phone rang.
He answered.
A woman spoke from the other end.
Natasha could not hear every word, but she heard one phrase clearly.
The twins are not safe in your house.
Simon’s face hardened.
“Who is this?”
The caller hung up.
Natasha watched him lower the phone.
“Was that a threat?”
“It was a warning.”
“Those are usually the same thing when people whisper.”
Simon looked toward the nursery.
His sons were sleeping under constant medical observation. Two guards stood outside the door. Every entrance was locked.
And still, someone had entered.
“Tell me about Elena,” Natasha said.
Simon’s eyes flashed.
“I don’t discuss my wife.”
“You need to.”
“Why?”
“Because someone is using her identity to reach your children.”
His silence answered her.
Natasha continued, “How long was she using drugs?”
“She wasn’t.”
The answer came too quickly.
“You told me she died from an overdose.”
“That’s what the police report says.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Simon’s eyes became cold. “You’re asking questions.”
“You hired me to keep your sons alive. I need the truth.”
“Elena had a prescription for pain medication after the birth. She struggled with it.”
“Did she try to stop?”
“Yes.”
“Was she afraid of anyone?”
Simon didn’t answer.
Natasha understood.
The apartment suddenly felt much larger and much more dangerous.
“Your wife knew something,” she said.
Simon looked at the photograph of Elena hanging near the elevator. She was beautiful, dark-haired, and smiling. One hand rested on her pregnant belly.
“We fought the night she died,” he said.
Natasha said nothing.
“She told me she wanted to leave New York. Take the babies somewhere safe.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“And you let her go to bed angry?”
“I left the house.”
“When you came back?”
“She was unconscious.”
“Did you call an ambulance?”
“Yes.”
“Who arrived first?”
Simon’s expression became a mask.
“Vincent.”
Natasha felt a chill.
“Your uncle arrived before the paramedics?”
“He said he had been nearby.”
“That sounds convenient.”
Simon looked directly at her.
“No one speaks to me that way.”
“I just did.”
A faint sound came from the hallway.
They both turned.
One of the guards was shouting.
Natasha ran toward the nursery.
Luca’s monitor screamed.
The baby’s oxygen level was dropping.
The medical assistant rushed to the crib. Leo began shaking violently beside him.
Someone had turned off the oxygen concentrator.
The machine’s power cord had been cut clean through.
Simon reached the nursery seconds later.
“What happened?”
Natasha grabbed Luca while the doctor lifted Leo.
“His breathing is slowing.”
Simon’s face went white beneath the tattoos and fury.
“Get another machine.”
“We need the emergency oxygen.”
The guard ran.
Natasha held Luca upright against her chest and began the rhythm.
Three beats.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
“Stay with me,” she whispered.
Luca’s tiny fingers closed around hers.
Simon stood frozen.
“Do something!” Natasha shouted.
The order jolted him back to life.
He grabbed the emergency oxygen cylinder himself and brought it to the doctor.
Minutes later, both babies were stable.
But on the nursery floor, beneath the cut power cord, Natasha found something small and silver.
The signet ring.
The one worn by the woman in Elena’s coat.
Simon looked at it.
Then he looked toward the locked elevator.
May you like
Someone had entered his home.
And they had left him a message.
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