Chapter 2 - The Man in the Service Corridor
Emergency lights flickered on three seconds later.
Three seconds was enough.
The service corridor door swung closed.
Dominic crossed the dining room before anyone else reacted.
“Stop!”
His security men followed.
Nora held Eli by both shoulders.
“Stay with me.”
The teenager was trembling so hard she could feel it through his uniform.
Margaret remained beside the table.
Her face had transformed.
The demanding, elegant woman who had expected an apology was gone.
In her place stood someone staring into a past she had spent seventeen years burying.
Dominic reached the service door.
Locked.
He slammed his palm against it.
“Open it.”
No answer.
One guard pulled a master key.
Charles Whitcomb suddenly said, “The corridor is staff only.”
Dominic turned.
“I’m aware.”
“There’s nothing back there except storage.”
Nora stared at him.
“Then why are you worried?”
Charles gave her a furious look.
“I’m trying to keep control of my restaurant.”
“Your restaurant?” Margaret said.
Everyone looked at her.
Charles swallowed.
“The restaurant I manage.”
Margaret walked toward him.
“Bellamy House is owned by Callahan Hospitality.”
Charles’s face tightened.
“Through a subsidiary.”
“My son owns that subsidiary.”
Dominic looked at his mother.
“You knew?”
Margaret ignored the question.
Her eyes remained on Charles.
“So perhaps you should stop telling the owners which doors they may open.”
The guard unlocked the service corridor.
Dominic entered first.
Nora followed.
“Nora,” Charles snapped.
She did not stop.
Eli stayed close behind her.
The corridor was narrow, lined with shelves and linen carts.
A red EXIT sign glowed at the far end.
No one was there.
Dominic checked the first storage room.
Empty.
Second room.
Empty.
The third door stood slightly open.
Dominic pushed it.
Inside were wine crates.
Dozens of them.
Nora recognized Bellamy House labels.
Dominic picked up one bottle.
“2018 Château Margaux.”
Charles appeared behind them.
“That is our private reserve.”
Dominic examined the label.
“No.”
Charles hesitated.
“No?”
Dominic scraped his thumbnail across the edge.
The label peeled.
Underneath was another label.
No vineyard.
No year.
Only a silver triangle.
Eli whispered, “That’s it.”
Dominic looked at Charles.
“What is this room?”
“Wine storage.”
“Who has access?”
“My beverage director.”
“Who else?”
“Senior management.”
“Names.”
Charles hesitated.
Nora noticed Dominic’s security chief noticing too.
“Charles,” Dominic said quietly.
That voice was worse than shouting.
“Names.”
Charles listed four people.
One chef.
One beverage director.
One operations manager.
Himself.
Margaret entered the room.
She looked at the bottles.
Then at Dominic.
“I thought they were gone.”
“What?”
“The marked shipments.”
Dominic set the bottle down.
“You told me Father stopped that operation before I took control.”
“He did.”
“Apparently not.”
Margaret shook her head.
“This isn’t his work.”
“You recognized the code.”
“Yes.”
“So who else knew it?”
She did not answer.
Dominic stepped closer.
“Mother.”
“Three men.”
“Names.”
“Your father.”
“Dead.”
“Me.”
“And?”
Margaret looked away.
Dominic understood before she spoke.
“My uncle.”
Margaret nodded.
“Gabriel.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
Gabriel Callahan had disappeared eighteen years earlier.
The family story was that he had fled the country after stealing millions.
Nora remembered reading about it years ago.
Two Callahan brothers.
One empire.
One betrayal.
Then only Dominic’s father remained.
“Gabriel is dead,” Dominic said.
Margaret whispered, “We never found a body.”
A crash sounded deeper in the corridor.
Security moved immediately.
Nora pulled Eli behind a storage shelf.
Dominic motioned for everyone to stay.
The guards disappeared around the corner.
Seconds passed.
Then one called out.
“Clear.”
They found a linen cart overturned beside an open maintenance hatch.
A draft rose from below.
Dominic crouched.
“Where does that go?”
Charles answered too quickly.
“Basement utilities.”
Nora looked at him.
“You know this building very well.”
“I manage it.”
Dominic stood.
“Search the basement.”
Two guards descended.
Margaret touched the nearest wine crate.
“This symbol wasn’t about smuggling.”
Dominic frowned.
“You just said Father used it for secret shipments.”
“He did.”
“But?”
“The triangle meant the shipment belonged personally to him.”
Dominic stared at the bottles.
“How much is here?”
Nora counted the visible crates.
“At least sixty bottles.”
Dominic opened one crate.
Instead of twelve wine bottles, the center had been hollowed out.
Inside sat a black metal case.
Charles backed toward the door.
Dominic saw him.
“Don’t move.”
Nora’s pulse jumped.
Security closed the doorway.
Dominic lifted the case.
Locked.
Eli whispered, “I saw one.”
Everyone turned.
“One what?”
“A case like that.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
Charles stared at him.
Eli saw the look.
He shrank closer to Nora.
“Where?” she asked.
“In Mr. Whitcomb’s office.”
Charles exploded.
“That is a lie.”
Eli flinched.
Nora stepped forward.
“Don’t yell at him.”
“He is accusing me of—”
“Actually,” Dominic interrupted, “he hasn’t accused you of anything.”
Charles stopped.
Dominic tilted his head.
“You just did that yourself.”
The manager’s face turned gray.
Margaret suddenly sat on a crate.
Nora looked at her.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She clearly was not.
Nora grabbed a folding chair and brought it over.
Margaret looked surprised.
“Thank you.”
It was the first polite thing she had said to Nora.
Dominic watched the exchange.
Then his phone buzzed.
He answered.
“Yes.”
A pause.
His expression changed.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Lock every exterior door.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
Dominic lowered the phone.
“One of my guards found a delivery van abandoned behind the kitchen.”
Charles said, “We have deliveries all day.”
“The plates were stolen.”
Nobody spoke.
Dominic continued.
“And the driver left blood on the steering wheel.”
Eli looked sick.
Nora took his arm.
“Sit.”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
He sat beside Margaret.
An unlikely pair.
A terrified busboy and a billionaire’s mother.
Dominic turned to Charles.
“I want your office opened.”
Charles folded his arms.
“You need a warrant.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“You work in a building I own.”
“It’s still my private office.”
Margaret stood.
“Not anymore.”
Charles’s anger finally broke through.
“You people think money gives you the right to do anything.”
Dominic’s expression became unreadable.
“That is an interesting complaint coming from a man who just ordered a waitress to accept blame for something she didn’t do.”
Charles looked at Nora.
She held his gaze.
Dominic continued.
“You wanted the incident buried before anyone examined the bottle.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You wanted the boy removed.”
“He was causing a scene.”
“You reached for the paper in his pocket.”
“I didn’t know he had paper.”
“Then why did you reach?”
Charles said nothing.
Dominic nodded to security.
“Office.”
They returned through the dining room.
Guests had been escorted into the ballroom while police were supposedly being called.
Supposedly.
Nora noticed no sirens.
“Did anyone call the police?”
Dominic looked at his security chief.
The man nodded.
“Ten minutes ago.”
“Where are they?”
“Dispatch says no call was logged.”
Dominic stopped.
“What?”
The chief showed him his phone.
“Our outgoing line was redirected.”
Nora looked toward Charles.
He had disappeared.
“Where’s Whitcomb?”
Everyone turned.
Gone.
Dominic cursed.
Security spread out.
Nora looked at Eli.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
He grabbed her arm.
“He’ll find me.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Whitcomb.”
“Why would he—”
“Because I saw something.”
Nora froze.
“What?”
Eli looked toward Margaret.
Then Dominic.
“Last Tuesday. I was taking trash downstairs. Mr. Whitcomb was meeting someone near the loading dock.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“What did you hear?”
Eli swallowed.
“He said Mrs. Callahan would be here Friday.”
Margaret’s face changed.
Dominic stepped closer.
“What else?”
“He said the old woman would sit at table six.”
Margaret had been seated at table six.
Nora felt the skin rise along her arms.
“What did the other man say?”
Eli’s voice dropped.
“He said, ‘Then her son will finally open the door for us.’”
Dominic stared at him.
“What door?”
“I don’t know.”
Margaret did.
Nora saw it instantly.
Dominic saw it too.
“Mother.”
“No.”
“What door?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Not here.”
“Mother.”
“I said not here.”
Dominic moved closer.
“Someone threatened a nineteen-year-old kid. Someone used Father’s code. Someone staged an attack beside your chair.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“And if I tell you what that door is, you may wish they had killed me tonight.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Tell me.”
Margaret looked toward Nora.
Strangely.
As if deciding whether she trusted her.
Then she said, “Your father kept one room beneath Bellamy House that you were never supposed to know existed.”
Dominic went still.
Margaret continued.
“There is no key.”
“How do you open it?”
“You don’t.”
Dominic stared at her.
“Who does?”
Margaret looked at his hand.
More specifically, his ring.
Dominic followed her gaze.
He wore a heavy gold signet ring bearing the Callahan crest.
His father’s ring.
Margaret whispered, “You do.”
Before anyone could respond, Eli’s phone vibrated.
He looked down.
A text message.
Unknown number.
Nora read it over his shoulder.
WE KNOW SHE SAW THE MARK.
A second message appeared.
BRING NORA BENNETT TO THE BASEMENT.
Then a third.
May you like
OR HER DAUGHTER LEAVES SCHOOL WITH US TOMORROW.
Nora stopped breathing.
