Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary in the East WingAt 11:30 PM, the second-floor master corridor was quiet, illuminated only by dim wall sconces casting long shadows against the oak wainscoting.
Daniel met us outside Vanessa Bellini’s private guest suite, holding an electronic master keycard and a heavy leather tool roll.
“Her two private guards have been relieved of duty and secured in the gatehouse, boss,” Daniel reported in a low murmur. “No shots fired. Miss Bellini took two sleeping capsules twenty minutes ago.”
Dante nodded once. “Open it.”
The lock clicked with a quiet mechanical hum. Dante pushed the heavy oak door open, stepping silently into the darkened suite.
Vanessa lay sprawled across the king-sized bed, wearing a sheer silk nightgown, her breathing heavy and rhythmic beneath the influence of the sedatives. On the vanity table across the room sat her diamond jewelry cases, her designer handbags, and an open leather travel vanity.
Dante didn’t look at the sleeping woman. He walked directly to the mahogany armoire in the corner, pulling open the double doors.
Resting on the top shelf, half-concealed beneath a folded cashmere sweater, was a flat velvet case embossed with the crest of the Caruso family.
Dante pulled the case down, setting it onto the vanity table beneath the lamp.
He clicked the brass latch.
Inside lay the heirloom: fifty-four matched Colombian emeralds woven into a web of hand-forged platinum, surrounding a breathtaking twenty-carat teardrop pendant that had belonged to Dante’s mother, Donna Maria Caruso.
Beside the velvet case sat an identical, unbranded black leather box.
Dante opened the second box.
Inside lay the Swiss replicas. Cut from synthetic green crystal and rhodium-plated brass, weighted with lead inserts to match the heft of the original piece down to the gram. To an untrained eye under banquet chandeliers, the forgery was indistinguishable.
Dante picked up one of the replica stones, turning it over in his palm.
“Andrew Keller brought these in through my service gate,” Dante murmured, his voice flat as a frozen lake.
“And left thirty minutes later with a hundred-thousand-dollar deposit slip drawn on the Bellini family’s private account in Nassau,” Daniel added, handing Dante a printed bank manifest retrieved from Keller’s impounded vehicle.
Dante closed both cases with a quiet, decisive snap.
He turned his gaze toward the bed where his bride-to-be slept, completely oblivious that her forty-million-dollar scheme had unraveled in the dark.
“Take the replicas to the armory,” Dante commanded quietly. “Keep the originals in my private safe. And place two sentries outside this door. Vanessa does not leave this room until she puts on her wedding dress tomorrow morning.”
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He looked at me, his gray eyes softening into something deep, protective, and unshakeable.
“Come, Nora. Dr. Harris has prepared a room for you in the east wing. You need to rest.”
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