Chapter 2 - The Groom's Shadow
Julian’s hand froze beneath his satin lapel.
His jaw muscles ticked violently beneath his tan skin.
“Get that street rat away from my wife,” Julian ordered in a low, gravelly rasp.
The two security guards in black earpieces stepped forward immediately.
One reached down to grab Toby by the collar of his ragged shirt.
Sophia lunged upward, putting her entire body between the guards and the child.
“Touch him and I’ll break your wrist,” Sophia snarled.
The guard stopped, glancing uneasily at Julian.
Julian forced a hollow, patronizing chuckle, stepping across the wet concrete.
“Sophia, you’re having another hysterical episode,” Julian murmured, his voice silky and dangerous.
“You’ve been drinking champagne on an empty stomach.”
“You see a child on the sidewalk and project your old grief onto a random vagrant.”
He reached out to pull her away, his fingers clamping onto her wrist like steel handcuffs.
Sophia ripped her arm free with violent momentum.
She held the faded photograph directly in front of Julian’s face.
“Explain this, Julian,” she hissed, her voice cutting through the alleyway wind.
“Explain why an orphan in rags is carrying my private hospital discharge picture.”
Julian didn't look at the photo.
He looked straight into Toby’s wide, terrified hazel eyes.
“It’s a scam, Sophia,” Julian said smoothly, without a single blink.
“Disgruntled former hospital staff sell discarded archival photos to extortion rings.”
“They coach runaways to target wealthy socialites outside gala venues.”
Toby backed away against the brick wall, clutching his dusty roll.
“The lady in the chair didn't lie!” Toby cried out, his voice shrill with panic.
“She gave me the key too!”
Toby reached deep into the lining of his torn pocket.
He pulled out a heavy, tarnished brass key suspended on a frayed leather shoelace.
Stamped across the metal was a room number: 104.
And beneath the number was an address: The St. Jude River Hospice.
Julian’s aristocratic facade cracked.
A flash of raw, homicidal terror flared in his dark eyes.
He turned toward his lead security guard, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper.
“Miller,” Julian muttered.
“Take the car.”
“Go to St. Jude River Hospice right now.”
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“Make sure Room 104 is cleared out before the police arrive.”
What was waiting inside Room 104 that Julian was desperate to burn to the ground?
