Chapter 4
I placed the ring into the recess.
Nothing happened.
Samuel looked confused.
Edmund almost smiled.
“Because something’s missing.”
The hollow section.
Whatever had once sat inside Daniel’s ring completed the mechanism.
Not a conventional key.
A small insert shaped to lock the braid into a particular position.
Without it, the ring was incomplete.
“What did it open?”
Samuel looked toward the far wall.
A portrait of the casino’s original owner hung there.
He removed it.
Behind it sat a narrow black panel.
No keypad.
No electronic display.
Just another circular recess.
Old-fashioned.
Deliberate.
Daniel trusted things that could not be remotely manipulated.
I looked at Edmund.
“What was inside?”
“I never saw it.”
“Then why terrorize my children?”
His expression hardened again.
Because he preferred anger to fear.
“Your husband refused to pay.”
I moved closer.
“Owen is four.”
He shrugged.
“Then maybe his father should have thought about what debt leaves behind.”
There.
The villain underneath the casino manners.
I lowered my voice.
“You pressed a child’s face against felt over something you admit you never owned.”
Edmund smiled.
“Children learn faster than widows.”
Samuel stepped forward.
I stopped him.
Not yet.
I wanted Edmund talking.
“What did you expect me to do?”
“Pay.”
“How much?”
“Eight million.”
I almost laughed.
“For what?”
“Your husband’s unpaid obligation.”
No.
That story was collapsing.
Eight million sounded like a number chosen to hurt, not a debt tied to anything real.
Then Derek blurted:
“It wasn’t always money.”
Edmund turned.
“Shut up.”
Too late again.
I looked at Derek.
“What was it before?”
He stared at the floor.
“Three names.”
Samuel’s face changed.
“What names?”
Derek answered slowly.
“Daniel was supposed to tell us which three Voss captains were feeding him information from inside the private coalition.”
Now I understood.
The Langs were not creditors.
They were intermediaries.
Someone behind them wanted Daniel’s sources.
He refused.
So money became punishment.
After Daniel died, the same people came for the ring because they believed he hid those identities inside whatever the ring unlocked.
The children were simply the newest pressure point.
I looked at Edmund.
“Who were you collecting for?”
He said nothing.
Then Owen whispered from behind me:
“Mom?”
I turned.
He was holding something.
A single black casino chip.
On its underside, scratched into the clay, were two letters.
May you like
J.V.
My husband’s older brother was named Julian Voss.
