Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
I had mapped them all. Kept the knowledge close like precious gems, waiting for the moment it might matter.
Marco's voice echoed in my memory: "You're the only one who sees everything."
He had been right. I'd seen it all. The deals made in shadows. The papers hidden in safes. The girls who disappeared into private clinics.
Every secret carefully noted and tucked away, like the evidence I had gathered over years of cleaning offices after midnight meetings. USB drives, photographs, and account numbers, all hidden in my special place behind the old dumbwaiter shaft.
The click of my rosary beads was loud in the quiet room. One last prayer, not for forgiveness but for strength.
I could lose everything. Thomas could lose everything.
But Pearl... Marco's daughter, Sofia's legacy, the girl who had trusted me with her tears all these years ago... she would lose more than everything if I stayed silent now.
The decision settled in me like another key turning in a lock. Carefully, I pulled the burner phone from where I had kept it hidden all these years. The number was memorized, but never dialed, until now.
It rang twice before a gruff voice answered. "Who is this?"
"Detective Santos?" My voice shook only slightly. "It's time. I'm ready to tell you everything about Marco Divino's murder."
A sharp intake of breath. "Mrs. Wheeler? After all these years..."
"Not just that." I glanced at the door, lowering my voice. "I have proof. About what really happens in these towers. Things that would destroy him. But I need something first."
"Name it."
"Protection for my son. And help in getting someone out of this tower tonight. Can you do that?"
There was a pause, the sound of papers rustling. "Give me an hour to mobilize my team. You're sure about this?"
I thought of Pearl's hand pressed to her stomach. Of Marco's eyes boring into mine. Of all the secrets I'd kept too long.
"I made a promise," I whispered. "It's time I kept it."
I ended the call, tucking the phone away as familiar footsteps approached. Pearl's door opened and she slipped inside, pale but composed. Always so brave, my girl.
"Nan?" Her voice caught when she saw my face. "What's wrong?"
I crossed to her, taking her hands in mine. For the first time in eleven years, I let myself really hold them, secrets and fear falling away like autumn leaves.
"Listen carefully, sweet girl," I whispered. "There are things you need to know. About your father. About the walls of this tower. And about getting you somewhere safe tonight."
Her eyes widened as I pulled the keyring from my pocket, generations of hidden doorways hanging from its iron ring.
"But first," I paused, the weight of truth heavy on my tongue, "let me tell you what really happened to your father that night. It wasn't a car accident, Pearl. I was here late, cleaning the executive floor. I saw Vittorio meet with those men—the ones who later forced Marco's car off the Chapman Bridge. I heard him give the order, watched him celebrate with champagne while they called to confirm it was done."
Tears filled her eyes, but there was steel beneath the grief. Like her father.
"I have proof," I continued softly. "Security footage I copied, documents your father left behind. Everything Vittorio thought he had destroyed."
Understanding dawned in her eyes as I led her to the panel behind her bookcase. The key Marco had given me that last night—the one I had kept hidden in my rosary beads for eleven years—slid into the lock like it had been waiting all this time for precisely this moment.
"Those men who tried to save you," I whispered as the hidden door swung wide, "I'm sure they'll try again. And this time, we'll be ready. But first, let me show you how to really move through these walls."
For the first time since Marco died, I felt worthy of his trust. Of Pearl's trust. Tonight, we would make sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain.
31
PEARL
Icouldn't stop shaking.
Everything Nan had just told me—about my father, about Vittorio, about that night on the Chapman Bridge—it was like the world had tilted sideways.
All those years, I'd told myself Vittorio's control, for all its flaws, had at least been protection, that the tower was home. What a sad joke.
"Miss Pearl." Nan's weathered hands caught mine, steady as always. "You need to breathe, love."
We were huddled in what must have been an office once, decades ago. The air smelled like old paper and secrets, dust coating every surface except the small space Nan had cleared for her blueprints. The flashlight beam caught cobwebs in the corners, making them look like silver threads holding the walls together.
"I always knew something was wrong." My voice sounded strange in the dark. "The way he'd smile when he was angry. How Mom changed after they married." I swallowed hard. "God, Nan. You watched him kill her too, didn't you?"