Chapter 1 - The Medallion of a Ghost
The click of safety mechanisms being released echoed through the massive penthouse.
It was a terrifying, metallic sound.
A sound that meant someone was about to die.
Camryn froze, her knees still pressed into the imported marble floor.
Leo’s tiny arms were still wrapped tightly around her neck.
His face was buried in her collarbone.
He was breathing heavily, holding onto her like a lifeline.
But the temperature in the room had plummeted to absolute zero.
Matteo DeLuca took a slow, deliberate step forward.
His eyes were no longer those of a desperate, grieving father.
They were the eyes of the ruthless head of the DeLuca Syndicate.
"Where," Matteo’s voice was a low, lethal whisper that sent shivers down Camryn’s spine, "did you get that?"
Camryn didn’t understand.
She looked up, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Three men in dark suits had materialized from the shadows of the hallway.
Their weapons were drawn.
Their eyes were fixed squarely on her head.
"Get my son away from her," Matteo commanded.
A guard stepped forward, reaching for the three-year-old.
But the moment the man’s hand brushed Leo’s shoulder, the boy erupted.
It wasn't a tantrum this time.
It was sheer, unadulterated panic.
"NO!" Leo screamed, his little fingers twisting violently into the fabric of Camryn’s cheap gray uniform. "Mama! Mama!"
The word hit Matteo like a physical blow to the chest.
He staggered back half a step.
Camryn instinctually wrapped her arms around the trembling child, shielding him from the imposing guards.
She didn't know the rules of the mafia.
She only knew this little boy was terrified.
"It's okay," she whispered into Leo's dark curls, ignoring the guns pointed at her. "I've got you. Nobody is going to hurt you."
Matteo raised a single hand.
The guards stopped instantly.
He approached Camryn himself, towering over her kneeling form.
With sudden, startling quickness, his large hand shot out.
He didn't grab her throat.
He grabbed the thin gold chain resting against her collarbone.
He pulled it out, revealing the heavy gold medallion.
The DeLuca family crest.
Engraved with a single, blood-red ruby in the center.
"My wife was wearing this," Matteo said, his voice cracking with a dangerous mix of rage and sorrow. "On the night her car exploded in Brooklyn."
Camryn’s eyes widened in horror.
"The night she burned to death," Matteo continued, leaning closer, his breath hot against her pale face. "So tell me, Camryn Jenkins... how did a maid from Queens get the necklace off a dead woman?"
Camryn’s throat was dry.
Seventy-three thousand dollars in medical debt.
A dying mother at Mount Sinai.
She had taken this job to survive.
Now, she was going to die in a billionaire’s living room.
"I... I was there," Camryn choked out.
Matteo’s eyes narrowed. "What?"
"Two years ago," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I was walking home from my shift at the diner. I saw the crash."
The room was dead silent.
Only Leo’s soft sniffles broke the quiet.
"The car was on fire," Camryn continued, her voice shaking violently. "People were running away. They were pulling out their phones to record it. But... I heard someone inside."
Matteo’s grip on the necklace loosened slightly.
"I ran to the car," she sobbed, the memory flashing vividly in her mind. "The door was jammed. I broke the window with a brick. There was a woman inside. She was bleeding. She was trapped under the dashboard."
Matteo closed his eyes.
The muscles in his jaw ticked.
"She pushed this necklace into my hand," Camryn wept. "She grabbed my shirt and pulled me close. She told me... she told me to take it. To keep it safe. To find..."
Camryn looked down at the little boy clinging to her.
"She told me to find her baby. To give it to Leo."
The gun in the nearest guard’s hand lowered an inch.
Matteo stared at the maid.
He searched her eyes for a lie. For a hustle. For a trap.
But all he saw was a terrified twenty-three-year-old girl who had risked her life for a stranger.
"Why didn't you bring it to the police?" Matteo asked softly.
"I tried," Camryn said. "But a man in a police uniform... he saw me by the car. He told me to hand it over. He pulled a gun on me. He wasn't trying to help her. He was trying to finish the job."
Matteo’s eyes snapped open.
The air in the room shifted from grief to pure, venomous murder.
"A cop?" Matteo asked.
"He had a scar," Camryn whispered. "A white scar cutting through his left eyebrow. I ran. I hid in the alleys. I kept the necklace because I didn't know who to trust."
Matteo stood up slowly.
He looked at his second-in-command, a man named Dante standing by the door.
Dante was already nodding.
They both knew a dirty cop with a scarred eyebrow on the DeLuca payroll.
Matteo looked back down at the maid.
His son was still holding onto her.
For the first time in two years, Leo looked peaceful.
"Cancel the cleaning contract," Matteo ordered Dante without looking away from Camryn.
Camryn’s heart dropped. She was fired. She was going to be killed.
"Pay her mother's medical bills in full," Matteo continued. "Transfer the funds to Mount Sinai immediately."
Camryn gasped.
"And pack her things," Matteo commanded. "Miss Jenkins is no longer a maid."
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He knelt back down, locking eyes with Camryn.
"You're moving into the west wing. You are Leo's nanny now. And you are not leaving this penthouse until the man who killed my wife is dead."
