Chapter 2 - The Gift in the Plastic Box
"Boss, step back!" Victor commanded, his weapon sweeping the open room as the guards fanned out across the marble.
When Victor saw the young mother kneeling in blue cleaner and two children cowering beside an antique settee, his tactical posture faltered.
"What the hell is this?" Victor murmured, lowering his submachine gun half an inch, looking at Gabriel in disbelief.
"Stand down, Victor," Gabriel ordered without turning around.
The security chief motioned for his men to hold their positions near the entryway, though their eyes remained sharp and suspicious.
"She slipped them through the service entrance in the trunk or back seat," Victor muttered, shaking his head. "I'll handle this immediately, Gabriel. I'll have the gate guards reprimanded, and I'll remove the trespassers from the property."
Maya let out a broken whimper, wrapping her arms tightly around Leo's trembling shoulders.
To her, being handed over to security guards in an isolated mansion felt like a death sentence.
"Wait," Gabriel said, raising one gloved hand.
The room went instantly still.
Khloe stepped around her mother's protective arm, completely oblivious to the four armed men standing by the door.
She walked forward four steps, her little sneakers squishing slightly in the damp edge of the spilled cleaner.
She stopped directly in front of Gabriel, having to crane her neck all the way back to look up into his cold, shadowed face.
"It's for you," Khloe announced brightly, holding up the slightly crushed plastic container with both hands.
Gabriel looked down at the four-year-old child.
Inside the cheap transparent box was a single vanilla cupcake topped with neon blue frosting that had smeared against the lid.
Poked into the center of the cake was an old, unlit sparkler, bent at a sharp forty-five-degree angle.
"What is that?" Gabriel asked, his voice unexpectedly rough.
"It's a birthday cake," Khloe explained patiently, as if explaining basic arithmetic to a slow student. "My mama said today is October 14, and October 14 is a very special birthday."
Gabriel felt something seize inside his chest, an invisible shockwave rattling through thirty years of calloused armor.
"How did you know today was my birthday?" he asked, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.
"I didn't know it was your birthday," Khloe giggled, shaking her curls. "It's Barnaby's birthday! My bear! But he told me you looked like you needed it more because you don't have any balloons."
Victor stared at the child in open-mouthed shock, while the four guards shifted uncomfortably behind their vests.
For twelve hours, three hundred men who lived on Gabriel Russo’s payroll had said nothing about the date on their calendars.
They had delivered ledgers of blood and money, but not a single human being had acknowledged that the man who kept them alive had just turned forty years old.
Gabriel slowly knelt down on one knee, his expensive wool trousers pressing directly into the damp marble without a care.
He was eye-level with the little girl now.
He reached out with a scarred, steady hand and gently took the crushed plastic container from her small fingers.
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"Thank you, Khloe," Gabriel whispered, the words tasting completely foreign on his tongue.
"You're welcome," she beamed, turning back toward her mother. "See, Mama? I told you he was nice!"
