Chapter 3 - The Silent Signal
The next morning, the Hale estate was thick with a palpable, oppressive tension.
Dominic played his role to perfection. He walked into the grand dining hall with a cold, terrifying scowl, barking harsh orders at his household staff, slamming doors, and ignoring his breakfast. To the thirty armed guards patrolling the grounds, Dominic Hale was a crime boss spiraling into fury after catching his fiancée planting a wire in his father’s clock.
Standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows of the main lobby, Jack Mercer watched Dominic’s outbursts with a quiet, satisfied glint in his eyes.
“How is she holding up in the guest suite?” Jack asked casually as Dominic approached his desk in the hallway.
Dominic didn't look at him. He poured two fingers of bourbon into a crystal glass, even though it wasn't even ten in the morning.
“She isn't eating,” Dominic growled, slamming the decanter down. “She hasn't said a word since yesterday. I’m giving her until tonight to give me the names of her handlers, Jack. If she doesn't talk by midnight, I’m turning her over to your interrogation team.”
Jack bowed his head, hiding a subtle, triumphant smile. “Understood, boss. I’ll make sure the holding cells in the basement are prepared.”
“Good. And double the guards on the perimeter,” Dominic added, rubbing his temples as if exhausted. “I don't want whoever she was working for coming near this house to finish the job.”
“Already on it, sir,” Jack replied smoothly, stepping away to pretend to make calls.
The moment Jack turned the corner, Dominic slipped through the kitchen service corridor.
Waiting near the pantry was four-year-old Lily Parker, holding her worn stuffed rabbit by one ear. Her mother, Mrs. Parker, the head housekeeper, stood beside her, her face pale with worry.
“Mr. Hale,” Mrs. Parker whispered nervously, clutching her apron. “Are you sure about this? If Jack finds out—”
“Jack won't find out,” Dominic said, kneeling down until he was at eye level with the little girl. He pulled a small, folded piece of silver foil from his pocket—wrapped around a sweet chocolate candy—and a tiny, handwritten note tucked inside.
“Lily,” Dominic said gently, his voice softening in a way no mobster in the city had ever heard. “Can you do a very big secret mission for me?”
Lily nodded eagerly, her large brown eyes shining. “Like a spy?”
“Exactly like a spy,” Dominic smiled faintly. “I need you to take your rabbit and go visit the pretty lady in the guest suite. My guards will let you in because you’re carrying her morning tea tray with your mom. While your mom sets the tray down, I want you to give this chocolate to the pretty lady. Can you do that?”
“Does she need a hug?” Lily asked softly. “She was crying when she stood on the blue chair.”
Dominic felt a sharp tug in his chest. “Yes, Lily. She needs a hug very much.”
Ten minutes later, Mrs. Parker pushed a wooden tea cart past the two armed guards standing outside the East Guest Suite. Jack’s men barely glanced at the housekeeper and her four-year-old daughter. To them, a child holding a stuffed rabbit was harmless background noise.
Inside the suite, Claire sat near the window, staring out at the grey morning sky.
When the door opened, Lily trotted across the room, ignoring the guards outside, and slid her tiny hand into Claire’s palm.
“Mr. Hale said you need a spy chocolate,” Lily whispered, pressing the foil-wrapped candy into Claire’s hand.
Claire looked down at the little girl, a choked sob escaping her throat. She dropped to her knees, pulling Lily into a fierce, protective hug, squeezing her eyes shut as the little girl wrapped her arms around her neck.
While Mrs. Parker stood near the doorway, deliberately blocking the guards' view, Claire unfolded the tiny piece of paper hidden inside the foil.
Written in Dominic’s sharp, distinctive handwriting was a single line:
Paige’s counting habit. Give me the exact numbers she uses when she’s terrified. I’m finding her tonight.
Claire’s heart leaped into her throat. She snatched a small eyebrow pencil from her vanity purse, flipped the tiny note over, and wrote rapidly on the back:
She counts backward from 100 by sevens. 100, 93, 86, 79... She always stops at 23 because that's my birthday.
May you like
Claire folded the paper, slipped it back inside Lily’s rabbit’s felt ear pocket, and kissed the little girl’s cheek.
“Tell Mr. Hale the spy mission was a success,” Claire whispered.
