Chapter 3 - The Broken Seal
Emily stood rooted to the spot behind her daughter, her eyes wide with horror as she watched Lily reach up toward the head of New York’s most feared underworld figure.
Lily leaned over the edge of the desk, her tiny fingers delicately navigating past the collar of Vincent’s black suit jacket. Her hand hovered behind his earlobe, feeling along the crease where his skin met the skull.
Vincent remained perfectly motionless, his eyes closed, his breathing measured. He expected nothing—perhaps a gentle touch, a child's game.
Lily’s small fingers found a tiny, unnatural ridge behind the ear. She didn't pinch; she simply applied a firm, backward leverage, pulling gently along the natural line of the cartilage.
Click.
A tiny, hardened object—dark, waxy, and metallic in appearance, no larger than a raisin—suddenly slid free from deep within the ear canal, coming to rest in Lily’s small palm.
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Vincent’s entire body jolted as if struck by a lightning bolt. His spine straightened instantly, his hands clutching the mahogany edges of the desk so hard the wood groaned under his grip. His eyes snapped open, wide and wild, filled with an expression that no living soul had ever seen on Vincent Turner’s face: absolute, disorienting shock.
Lily stared down at the dark object resting in her hand, her mouth slightly open in awe.
