The drive from the warehouse back to the penthouse was a journey through a city that felt increasingly like a graveyard. Inside the plush, leather-scented interior of Tony's Mercedes, the silence was suffocating.
Tony sat in the back with Emily, his presence radiating a cold energy. He didn't look at Emily; he stared straight ahead, his fingers tapping on his knee.
He pulled out the key from his pocket and looked intensely at it.
"First National Bank, Box 402," Tony read it in a voice that was almost a whisper. "This was written on the yellow paper the other day. I thought you had no idea who it belonged to. How come you have the key to it? What is in the box, Emily?"
Emily leaned her head against the cool glass, her reflection ghost-like in the window. "What do you think?" She turned slowly to Tony. "Money. My father wanted me away from you and all your evil."
