Chapter 1
“Which one of my guests came to collect my children?”
Gavin looked toward the ballroom.
Only for a second.
That was enough.
I followed his eyes.
Two hundred people were still laughing beneath the lights because the music had not stopped yet. From the service hall, they could not see Miranda half-buried beneath collapsed privacy screens or Gavin bleeding beside the shattered miniature sailboats.
They also could not see my children behind me.
Milo’s wrist was still strapped to one suitcase handle.
Nora’s to another.
Tess was crying so hard she could barely stand.
I crouched and cut every luggage strap loose.
“Dad,” Milo whispered.
“I’m here.”
“Are we still going with the new dad?”
Everything inside me stopped.
Miranda went completely still.
I looked at my five-year-old son.
“What new dad?”
He looked frightened.
“Miranda said not to call him that until the van.”
I slowly stood.
Gavin looked away.
The monitor crackled again.
The driver’s voice:
“Hello? Which door?”
I pressed the speaker button.
“Stay exactly where you are.”
Silence.
Then the connection died.
I looked into the ballroom again.
Gavin’s glance had landed near the head table.
One man stood there without dancing.
My uncle Vincent Ferrante.
Sixty-three.
My father’s younger brother.
The man who had held Milo at his christening.
The man who had introduced Miranda to me after Elena died.
And now the only guest watching the service hall instead of the party.
Vincent saw me looking.
His expression did not change.
Too controlled.
I handed the children to Rafe, my senior bodyguard.
“No one takes them anywhere.”
Then I picked up one of the suitcases.
A luggage tag hung from the handle.
Not MILO FERRANTE.
MICHAEL VALE.
I checked Nora’s.
NATALIE VALE.
Tess.
THERESA VALE.
Same surname.
Vale.
I knew exactly one man in the ballroom named Vale.
Arthur Vale.
Old Ferrante capo.
Widower.
No children.
Standing six feet behind Vincent.
May you like
He saw the tags in my hand.
And immediately headed for the exit.
