Chapter 7 - THE FATHER WHO FINALLY CAME HOME
Pier Fourteen looked abandoned at midnight.
It wasn’t.
Federal agents were positioned two blocks away.
NYPD harbor units waited beyond the seawall.
Roman’s men occupied rooftops and warehouse access points.
Claire had insisted on law enforcement involvement.
Roman had insisted on everything else.
She wore a wire beneath her jacket.
The flash drive in her pocket was fake.
The real evidence had already been copied and transferred to federal investigators.
Claire walked beside Roman toward the warehouse.
“You’re limping.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Roman had six stitches near his hairline and bruised ribs from Warehouse C.
He looked furious that his body had betrayed him by requiring recovery.
“Focus.”
“I am.”
Dante whispered through the earpiece:
“Eyes on two armed men south door.”
Roman’s expression did not change.
Inside, Amy sat tied to a chair.
Walter lay beside her.
His face was bruised.
One eye swollen shut.
Claire’s chest tightened.
Victor Bellamy stood behind them.
Elegant.
Gray suit.
No panic.
“Claire.”
“Victor.”
His smile widened.
“I see why Roman likes you.”
Roman’s face became cold.
Claire ignored that.
“Where is my father?”
Victor held out his hand.
“Drive.”
“Patrick.”
“Drive first.”
Claire looked at Walter.
He was conscious.
“Uncle Walter.”
His face crumpled.
“I’m sorry.”
Amy cried.
Claire kept her eyes on him.
“Did you send the men to Warehouse C?”
“No.”
Victor smiled.
Claire looked at him.
“You used Walter’s account.”
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
“Working on it.”
Victor laughed.
Roman almost smiled.
Wrong reaction for Victor.
Claire said:
“Where is Dad?”
Victor gestured toward a side door.
Two men brought Patrick out.
Claire’s lungs stopped working.
He looked older than five days should allow.
Beard.
Bruises.
Blood on his shirt.
But alive.
“Dad.”
Patrick looked at her.
His face collapsed.
“Baby girl.”
Claire almost ran toward him.
Roman’s hand brushed hers.
Not holding.
Reminding.
Plan.
Claire stopped.
Patrick whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Victor sighed.
“Family reunions exhaust me.”
Claire looked at him.
“You wanted the evidence.”
“Yes.”
She removed the drive.
Victor’s eyes followed.
“Untie Amy.”
“No.”
“Then you don’t get it.”
Victor smiled.
“You’re negotiating with two fathers’ lives.”
“No.”
Claire held up the drive.
“You’re negotiating with the only copy that keeps you out of prison.”
A lie.
Victor didn’t know.
“Claire,” Patrick whispered.
She ignored him.
“Untie Amy.”
Victor considered.
Then nodded.
One guard cut Amy free.
Claire said:
“She walks to Roman.”
Victor’s smile disappeared.
“You don’t set every term.”
“Then shoot me and lose the drive.”
Roman’s jaw tightened at that sentence.
Victor stared.
Then waved.
Amy ran.
Roman moved her behind him.
Claire looked at Walter.
“Now him.”
“No.”
“Then no drive.”
Victor laughed.
“Your uncle sold you.”
“Yes.”
Walter flinched.
Claire continued:
“He still walks.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“You have your cousin.”
“Walter.”
“No.”
Claire shrugged.
“Then goodnight.”
She turned.
Victor drew a gun.
Roman moved instantly.
Guns appeared everywhere.
Victor pressed the weapon toward Patrick’s head.
“Stop.”
Claire froze.
Roman’s voice became deadly.
“Victor.”
“Drive.”
Claire turned back.
She held it out.
“Send Dad.”
“No.”
“Then how do you know I don’t break it?”
Victor stared.
He wanted the evidence more than the hostage.
Finally he shoved Patrick forward.
Patrick stumbled.
Claire caught him.
Roman moved them back.
Victor held out his hand.
“Now.”
Claire tossed the drive.
Victor caught it.
For one second, satisfaction flashed across his face.
Then Claire said:
“You lost.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“The real files are with federal investigators.”
Silence.
Patrick actually laughed.
Victor went white.
“You stupid—”
He raised the gun.
Dante shouted.
Agents stormed the warehouse.
Chaos.
Victor fired.
Roman dragged Claire and Patrick behind a forklift.
Police returned fire.
Walter tackled one of Victor’s guards despite being half-conscious.
Amy screamed.
Dante reached her.
Within thirty seconds, it was over.
Victor Bellamy lay wounded in the shoulder.
Alive.
Handcuffed.
Furious.
Roman stood above him.
Gun in hand.
Claire saw something old in Roman’s face.
A calculation.
Victor smiled through pain.
“Do it.”
Roman’s finger shifted.
Claire whispered:
“Roman.”
He looked at her.
Not her father.
Not the agents.
Her.
She shook her head.
Roman lowered the weapon.
Victor laughed bitterly.
“She made you weak.”
Roman looked down at him.
“No.”
His voice was calm.
“She reminded me I don’t need you dead to win.”
Federal agents pulled Victor away.
Claire turned toward Patrick.
For one terrible second, she wanted to hit him.
Hug him.
Scream.
Instead she said:
“Did you know?”
His eyes filled.
“About Bellamy’s cargo?”
“Yes.”
“Not at first.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
Claire stared.
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I was ashamed.”
“You keep saying that like shame is a storm that happened to you.”
Patrick flinched.
Roman looked away.
Claire continued:
“You gambled company money.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“You borrowed against employee pension reserves.”
Patrick closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“One hundred eighty-three families.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“You knew numbers. You did not let yourself know people.”
Patrick cried.
“I thought I could fix it.”
“By betting again?”
“Yes.”
“By borrowing?”
“Yes.”
“By letting Walter introduce Bellamy?”
Walter whispered:
“That was me.”
Claire looked at him.
Walter sat against the wall under guard.
Amy stood several feet away, refusing to look at her father.
Walter continued:
“Patrick wanted legitimate refinancing.”
Patrick stared at him.
Walter said:
“I was the one who called Victor.”
Claire felt sick.
“Why?”
“At first, because he offered money quickly.”
“And later?”
Walter looked at Amy.
She turned away.
“Because I was angry.”
“At whom?”
“Patrick.”
Claire frowned.
Walter laughed bitterly.
“He was always the brother who inherited control.”
Amy whispered:
“Dad.”
Walter kept going.
“Your grandfather gave Patrick fifty-one percent and me twenty-nine.”
“Because Dad ran operations.”
“I ran finance.”
“You still got twenty-nine.”
Walter’s face twisted.
“It was never enough.”
There it was.
Not desperation.
Resentment.
Victor saw it.
Used it.
Walter accepted money.
Future equity.
Then the trap grew.
“Did you want Claire hurt?” Patrick asked.
Walter’s face collapsed.
“No.”
“Your email said remove her from operations.”
“I meant fired.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“That’s comforting.”
“I never wanted Bellamy to touch you.”
“But you brought him to our door.”
Walter lowered his head.
“Yes.”
Police took him.
Amy did not say goodbye.
Patrick watched his brother disappear.
Then looked at Claire.
“What happens now?”
She almost laughed.
“You ask me?”
“Yes.”
Patrick’s voice broke.
“I don’t have the right to decide anything about Higgins Freight again.”
That was the first correct thing he had said all night.
Claire looked toward Roman.
He stood a few feet away, bleeding slightly through his bandage again.
The man she had slapped.
The man who owned her company’s debt.
The man her mother once trusted.
“What happens to Higgins Freight?”
she asked.
Roman looked at her.
“That depends on you.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Not another vague answer.”
His expression shifted.
“I own sixty-four percent of secured voting assets after the restructuring.”
Patrick winced.
Roman continued:
“You control operations if you want them.”
“That isn’t ownership.”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
Roman stared.
“I want the company solvent.”
“And afterward?”
A pause.
“I want you to buy it back.”
Claire stopped breathing.
Patrick looked up.
Roman continued:
“At cost.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother made me promise to stop Bellamy.”
He looked toward Victor being loaded into a police vehicle.
“I did.”
May you like
Then his eyes returned to Claire.
“She never asked me to keep what belonged to you.”
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