Chapter 5 - The Lost Collar
Before Tiffany could take another step, Dante moved like a ghost, blocking the kitchen door and grabbing her designer handbag.
He flipped the bag upside down, dumping its contents onto the floor: lipsticks, gold compacts, a diamond bracelet, and the thick black leather collar with the silver shield tag engraved with the letter C.
Knox walked over, picked up the collar from the dirty floor, and held it in his palm. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the leather.
"You threw this in the trash," Knox said, staring down at Tiffany.
Tiffany was shaking so violently her knees were knocking together. "I... I was just cleaning up! I didn't mean anything by it! Please, don't hurt me!"
"My sister," Knox said softly, his voice trembling with a terrifying grief, "sewed this collar with her own hands two weeks before she died of leukemia. It was the last thing she ever made."
Belle stood up from the clinic stool, stepping forward despite her pain. "She took it off him while he was bleeding, sir. She said a stray dog didn't deserve fancy things."
Knox looked at Belle, his expression softening for a fraction of a second, before turning back to Tiffany with ice in his veins.
"You have ten seconds to put that collar around your own neck," Knox commanded.
Tiffany’s eyes widened in horror. "What?!"
"Put it on," Knox said, "or my men will put a iron chain around your neck and drag you behind my car all the way to Chicago."
"Do it, Tiffany! Just do it!" Veronica wept from the floor, completely broken.
With trembling, wet hands, the arrogant socialite picked up the dog collar from the floor, wrapped it around her own throat, and buckled it tightly shut. Tears of pure humiliation streamed down her heavily made-up face.
"Good," Knox said coldly. "Now you know what it feels like to be treated like an animal."
Knox turned his back on them, walking toward the counter where Belle stood. He pulled a heavy linen handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
"What is your name, young lady?" Knox asked gently.
"Belle," she whispered, taking the handkerchief. "Belle Ashford."
"Belle," Knox repeated, letting the name rest on his tongue. "You took a blow meant for my sister’s dog. You bled for him when you had nothing yourself."
"He was helpless," Belle said softly, her eyes filling with tears as she looked around at her ruined diner. "My father taught me that if you see something helpless and you don't help... you lose your humanity. I couldn't let them kill him."
Knox looked at the crooked red embroidery on her soaked apron: Cook with heart.
A faint, rare smile touched Knox Castellano’s lips. "Your father was a wise man, Belle."
Dante stepped up to Knox, leaning in close. "Boss, the state governor is on line one. He’s asking why fifty armored vehicles are occupying Crestwood."
Knox took the phone from Dante, put it to his ear, and spoke three words:
"Clear the town."
He hung up, handed the phone back, and looked at Belle. "Pack your things, Miss Ashford. And bring Old Ray."
May you like
Belle blinked, confused. "Pack my things? Where? This diner... it's all I have."
"This diner is no longer safe for you tonight," Knox said, offering her his arm. "And besides... Caesar won't take his medicine unless you are there to give it to him."
