Chapter 1
My daughter was shivering outside my own birthday party.
That was the first thing I saw.
Not the hundred guests.
Not the champagne.
Not the six-tier cake someone had flown in from New York.
Lily.
Three years old.
Sitting on the patio steps beyond the closed glass doors with her knees pulled together and a carefully wrapped box pressed against her chest.
Dark blue ribbon.
The ribbon we had tied together the night before.
I crossed the ballroom so quickly three people moved out of my way without knowing why.
I opened the doors.
Cold air hit me.
Lily looked up.
Her cheeks were wet.
“Daddy…”
I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her.
“What happened?”
She hugged the box tighter.
“Celeste said I couldn't come back in with this gift.”
Behind me, the ballroom went quiet.
I looked through the open doors.
Celeste stood beside the gift table.
Beautiful gown.
Diamonds.
Perfect smile gone.
Marcus stood twenty feet away.
My cousin.
My senior capo.
He wasn't looking at Lily.
He was looking at the box.
That bothered me.
Adrian came toward us.
My fifteen-year-old nephew looked angry enough to forget he was surrounded by adults.
“Uncle Dante… they kept trying to take it from her.”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
Celeste stepped forward.
“Oh, please. She's been crying for twenty minutes over a piece of junk.”
Lily flinched.
Celeste noticed.
Then smiled.
“See? There she goes again. You'd think someone broke her arm instead of asking her to hand over a dirty old toy.”
I stood.
“What toy?”
Lily lifted the box.
“I found something for you.”
Celeste's voice sharpened.
“Dante, don't.”
I looked at her.
She recovered quickly.
Too quickly.
“I mean, it's your birthday. Let her open something nice instead of dragging garbage out of your study.”
Marcus moved closer.
“She's three. She probably found an old paperweight.”
Adrian looked at him.
“You didn't act like it was a paperweight when you tried to pull it out of her hands.”
Marcus turned.
“Watch your mouth.”
Adrian didn't.
“You told me she'd forget by tomorrow.”
My eyes went back to Marcus.
He smiled.
Badly.
“Teenagers dramatize everything.”
Lily pressed herself against my leg.
I took the box.
Celeste moved immediately.
“Don't open that.”
No smile now.
No explanation.
Just panic.
I tore the paper.
Inside was a small black case.
And an old mechanical voice recorder.
I recognized it.
Not because I remembered owning it.
Because I remembered someone else owning it.
My late wife.
Elena.
Celeste lunged.
Marcus moved faster.
He threw the first punch.
I slipped outside it and put him through the wooden gift tower.
Boxes exploded across the floor.
Ribbon spools rolled beneath tables.
Guests scattered.
Celeste grabbed for the recorder.
I pulled her hand away and sent her backward onto the low display platform.
Then I held up the machine.
Marcus stopped trying to stand.
Celeste went white.
I looked from one to the other.
“Let's see what this recorded that has you so terrified.”
Nobody spoke.
I pressed PLAY.
Static.
A click.
Then a woman's voice filled the ballroom.
A voice I had not heard in almost three years.
Elena.
My dead wife.
“Dante…”
My hand tightened around the recorder.
“If you ever hear this, Marcus knows why I'm afraid.”
Nobody moved.
May you like
Then Elena said the sentence that turned my birthday party into something else entirely.
“And Celeste is helping him.”
