Lottie stood terrified as hostess Vesper Alderbrook seized her chin, pressed a crystal water goblet from the head table against her tightly closed lips, and softly threatened the child to drink if she wanted her mother to stay.

The grand ballroom plunged into absolute, terrified pandemonium as the heavy brass deadbolts clicked home on all four sets of exterior double doors. Women shrieked, backing away from the exits, while men in four-thousand-dollar tuxedos raised their hands, whispering frantically to their wives.

"Godwin! You can't hold these people hostage!" Marcus shouted, his face turning an angry, blotchy crimson. "Senator Albright has a flight to Washington at seven! This is false imprisonment!"

"Albright can take the morning train," Godwin said. He looked down at Lottie. "Lottie, look at Marcus."

The little girl slowly lifted her tear-stained face from his jacket. Her hazel eyes were wide and red-rimmed, but her gaze was sharp.

"Did you see Marcus in the pantry today?" Godwin asked gently.

Lottie looked at Marcus. Marcus stared back at her, his jaw set in a hard, warning glare that carried all the weight of his wealth and power.

"Answer your grandfather, Lottie," Marcus said, his tone thick with condescending menace. "Be very careful what you say. Children who tell lies don't get to stay in big houses."

"Do not threaten her in front of me, Marcus," Godwin said, stepping forward until Marcus was forced to crane his neck upward. "I will tear your tongue out through your throat."

Lottie took a deep breath, her small fingers tightening on Godwin’s sleeve. "He was by the coat check before the music started. He had a gray overcoat on."

"I took off my coat like every other guest, you ridiculous child!" Marcus spat.

"He gave Aunt Vesper the red envelope," Lottie continued, ignoring Marcus’s outburst. "He told her, 'Make sure he finishes the whole glass before the toast. We have the transport arriving at the docks at five.'"

Godwin’s steel-gray eyes locked onto Marcus’s face. "The transport at the docks. The five-o'clock shipment from Palermo."

Marcus swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. "She's coaching her, Godwin! You're feeding her lines to justify pushing me out of the logistics division! You've wanted my voting shares for three years!"

"Vesper," Godwin said, not breaking eye contact with Marcus. "Did Marcus give you the red envelope?"

Vesper sat crumpled on the velvet bench, Silas’s hand still anchored to her shoulder. Her hair had tumbled down from its elaborate pins, framing a face twisted in bitter, cornered desperation.

"Tell him, Vesper," Marcus warned, his voice cracking slightly. "Remember your trust fund. Remember who pays for your son’s tuition in Switzerland."

Vesper looked up, tears cutting tracks through her heavy makeup. "My trust fund won't do me much good if I'm serving twenty-five years for murder, Marcus!"

"You stupid bitch—" Marcus lunged.

Before Marcus could cross the two feet of open carpet, Godwin’s right hand struck like a piston.

The palm-strike hit Marcus square in the sternum. The impact sounded like a muffled sledgehammer against wet oak.

Marcus was hurled backward, his patent-leather shoes skidding across the polished floorboards until he crashed into the dessert cart. Tiers of fruit tarts and spun-sugar pastries collapsed around him in a sticky, shattered ruin. He lay on his back, gasping for air, clutching his chest with both hands as his face turned the color of chalk.

"You speak to family with respect, Marcus," Godwin said, standing over him, his breathing completely calm. "Even when they’re traitors."

Lottie stepped out from behind the table, her small hand reaching into her cardigan pocket. She pulled out a crumpled, folded piece of stiff crimson cardstock and held it out toward Godwin.

"Mommy took this from Aunt Vesper’s coat when she hung it up," Lottie whispered. "She told me to keep it in my pocket until we got home."