Vincent took the vial. His eyes narrowed on the cap — solid silver, stamped with his own family crest. That mark existed on only a handful of objects in the world, and every one of them was locked inside his private vault.
“That came from inside this house,” he said quietly.
Then a shadow moved in the hallway. Someone had appeared in the doorway.
Vincent’s brother.
Emma looked at the newcomer and whispered, “He gave it to her.”
THE CREST ON THE CAP
Julian Moretti stood frozen, his face pale. Vincent rose from his chair.
“Don’t listen to a child,” Julian said quickly, forcing a laugh. “She’s making things up.”
Vincent held up the vial between two fingers. “Only three people have a key to that vault, Julian. Me. My head of security. And you.”
Vanessa pushed her chair back, eyes darting toward the terrace doors. Vincent didn’t raise his voice. “Sit down.”