Chapter 7 - Finding The Ominous Photograph Left On The Desk
Before Lorenzo could dial the satellite number, the secure intercom on his private desk buzzed with a sharp, insistent electronic chirp.
Mason intercepted the call instantly, pressing the speaker button while keeping his hand near his holster. k
“Speak,” Mason commanded into the receiver.
“Mr. Mason, you need to come upstairs to the main study immediately,” the head night guard’s voice echoed through the speaker, strained with tension.
“What happened?” Lorenzo demanded, stepping away from the wall safe.
“Someone broke into the main house while you were at the freight yards,” the guard reported rapidly. “Nothing was stolen, but a message was left on your desk.”
Lorenzo exchanged a dark, knowing glance with Mason before striding out of the vault toward the private elevator.
They rode the mahogany-paneled car up to the ground floor in absolute silence, the air thick with impending violence.
When the doors slid open, they stepped into the grand hallway leading directly to the mahogany study where Emma had spoken earlier that day.
The heavy oak door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of golden light spilling out onto the polished hardwood floor.
Lorenzo pushed the door wide open with his palm, his pistol drawn and ready for an immediate confrontation.
The study was empty, but the fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers casting long, eerie shadows across the bookshelves.
Resting in the exact center of Lorenzo’s mahogany desk was a single glossy black-and-white photograph.
Lorenzo walked forward slowly, his boots clicking softly against the rug until he stood directly over the mysterious item.
It was a candid picture of Isabella taken covertly through a telephoto lens, standing outside a coffee shop in downtown Brooklyn.
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A heavy black X had been crudely slashed across her face with a permanent marker.
Scrawled beneath the image in jagged, hurried handwriting were four chilling words: She belongs to us now.
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