Chapter 2 - The Man Behind the Statue
“DOWN!”
One of Stallone’s bodyguards slammed Ethan behind the staircase as the first shot cracked through the foyer.
Glass exploded above them.
Vanessa screamed.
Stallone dropped the document and charged sideways instead of backward.
The gunman fired again.
The bullet buried itself in the wall.
“Dad!”
Ethan tried to move.
The bodyguard held him down.
“Stay here!”
The attacker stepped around the statue.
Black clothes.
Gloves.
Baseball cap.
No hesitation.
He wasn’t there to scare anybody.
He was there to finish something.
Stallone grabbed a bronze lamp and threw it.
The gunman ducked.
That half-second was enough.
The second bodyguard hit him from the side.
They crashed into a table.
The weapon slid across the marble.
The attacker elbowed the guard in the jaw, rolled away, and reached for the gun.
Stallone got there first.
He kicked it under a chair.
The stranger came up swinging.
Stallone blocked the first punch.
The second caught his shoulder.
Then Stallone drove him back into the wall.
“Who sent you?”
The attacker smiled.
That bothered Stallone more than the gun.
“You should’ve left the picture alone.”
Stallone’s grip tightened.
“What picture?”
The man’s eyes flicked toward Ethan.
Then toward Vanessa.
Vanessa took one step backward.
Stallone saw it.
So did the attacker.
The bodyguards pinned him to the floor.
Sirens approached outside.
Ethan emerged from behind the stairs.
“Dad?”
Stallone immediately released the attacker and went to him.
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
“Anywhere hurt?”
Ethan shook his head.
Stallone checked his arms, his face, his shoulders.
Only after he was sure did he look toward Vanessa.
She stood near the broken frame.
The folded document was gone.
Stallone straightened.
“Where is it?”
Vanessa blinked.
“What?”
“The paper.”
“I don’t know.”
“It was right there.”
“Maybe it slid under something.”
Stallone stared at her.
“You tried to grab it before the shooting.”
“Because I thought it might be important.”
“You didn’t even know what it was.”
Police entered the mansion.
Commands filled the foyer.
Hands up.
Step away.
Nobody move.
The attacker was cuffed.
Vanessa pressed one hand against her chest.
“You can’t seriously think I had anything to do with this.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re looking at me like I did.”
Ethan stepped closer to his father.
Stallone noticed.
It was small.
Almost nothing.
But when Vanessa moved, Ethan moved away from her.
A child didn’t fake that.
Detective Marcus Bell arrived forty minutes later.
He was fifty, calm, sharp-eyed, and unimpressed by wealth.
He looked at the bullet holes.
The broken photograph.
The blood on the attacker’s lip.
Then Vanessa.
“What was everybody doing before the gunman appeared?”
Vanessa answered immediately.
“Ethan broke a picture.”
“I didn’t break it!” Ethan shouted.
Bell looked at him.
“Tell me what happened.”
Vanessa interrupted.
“He’s upset.”
Bell didn’t raise his voice.
“Ma’am, I asked him.”
Ethan told the truth.
Every piece.
The argument.
The photograph.
Vanessa throwing it.
His father arriving.
The paper.
The gunman.
Bell looked at Stallone.
“What did the paper say?”
“I got through maybe six lines.”
“What do you remember?”
“My name. A date. And something about a family medical record.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
Bell caught it.
“What date?”
Stallone closed his eyes.
“August fourteenth, twelve years ago.”
Ethan looked up.
“That’s before I was born.”
“Yes.”
Bell pulled out his phone.
“And the rest?”
“There was a name.”
Vanessa suddenly dropped a water glass.
It shattered.
Everyone turned.
“I’m sorry.”
Bell studied her.
“What name?”
Stallone didn’t answer immediately.
Because now he remembered.
One word.
A girl’s name.
Lily.
He looked at Vanessa.
Her face had gone white.
“Who is Lily?”
“I don’t know.”
“You reacted.”
“I dropped a glass.”
“Who is she?”
“I said I don’t know!”
From across the foyer, one of the officers called out.
“Detective?”
Bell walked over.
The officer held a small plastic bag.
Inside was the folded document.
“Found it in the suspect’s jacket.”
Stallone frowned.
“He never went near it.”
Bell’s expression changed.
“Then somebody gave it to him.”
Everyone in the room went silent.
Bell carefully unfolded the paper.
He read the last line.
Then looked directly at Stallone.
“What?”
Bell turned the document around.
The final sentence had been typed in capital letters.
SECOND CHILD SURVIVED.
Stallone stared at it.
May you like
Behind him, Ethan whispered:
“Dad… what second child?”
