Chapter 4 - THE FIRST THREAT
Emily called Julian.
Not because she wanted rescuing.
Because the threat mentioned Claire.
That distinction mattered to her.
He answered before the first ring seemed finished.
“Emily?”
She stared at the photograph.
“Someone watched me come home.”
Silence.
Then his voice changed completely.
“What happened?”
She read the messages.
Julian did not interrupt.
When she finished, he said:
“Do not open your door.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Daniel is still outside.”
Emily moved toward the window.
The SUV remained at the curb.
Daniel was already getting out.
“How did he know?”
“I had him wait until you turned on your lights.”
“That is extremely creepy.”
“Complain tomorrow.”
“Julian.”
A breath.
“Please.”
Interesting.
She heard movement through the phone.
“Can Daniel come upstairs?”
Emily looked at the locked door.
“Yes.”
Two minutes later, Daniel entered with building security.
No broken lock.
No one in the hallway.
The photo had likely been taken from across the street.
NYPD received the messages.
Julian’s attorney preserved them.
No dramatic mafia retaliation.
Emily noticed that too.
At 4:00 a.m., Julian arrived.
She opened the door and stared.
“You came.”
“Yes.”
“You have a seven-year-old asleep at home.”
“My mother is there.”
“That is not the point.”
“I know.”
His hair was damp from snow.
No overcoat buttoned.
He looked furious.
Not at her.
At the existence of the threat.
Emily stepped aside.
He entered.
Then stopped.
Her apartment was tiny.
One bedroom.
A narrow kitchen.
A radiator that hissed like it held grudges.
A small artificial plant near the window because Emily had killed every real plant she ever owned.
Julian did not look around with judgment.
That relieved her more than it should have.
“You cannot stay here.”
There it was.
Emily crossed her arms.
“You lasted forty seconds.”
“What?”
“Before telling me what I can’t do.”
“Someone threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“Outside your home.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So this is still my home.”
Julian looked as though self-control required arithmetic.
Then:
“What do you want?”
Better.
Emily considered.
“Security downstairs.”
“Yes.”
“For tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Police report.”
“Already.”
“New locks tomorrow.”
“I’ll pay.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“My landlord will.”
“Your landlord’s lock is currently one screwdriver away from becoming decorative.”
“Then I will pay.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
She waited.
Finally:
“Fine.”
“Good.”
He looked deeply unhappy.
Emily nearly smiled.
Then she handed him the phone.
“Who knows I went to your house?”
“Family.”
“Staff?”
“Minimal.”
“Elias?”
“No.”
“Could he find out?”
“Yes.”
“Then do not assume this is him.”
Julian’s expression sharpened.
“You defend him often.”
“I defend evidence.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It’s cheaper than wrongful imprisonment.”
For half a second, he almost smiled.
Then his gaze moved toward Claire’s music box.
“May I?”
Emily nodded.
He picked it up.
The mechanism played softly.
Same song.
He sat at her kitchen table.
For the first time, Julian looked exhausted rather than dangerous.
Emily made coffee.
At four in the morning.
Christmas.
Because life had become absurd.
She placed a mug in front of him.
“No poison.”
“Disappointing.”
“That joke is concerning.”
He took a sip.
“Terrible.”
“You’re welcome.”
He drank anyway.
After a long silence, Emily asked:
“What happened when you were twenty-five?”
Julian’s eyes lifted.
“Claire’s video.”
“She said not to become twenty-five again.”
He looked away.
“That is not relevant.”
“It seemed relevant to her.”
He said nothing.
Emily waited.
Eventually:
“My father died when I was twenty-four.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He left businesses.”
“Legal?”
“Some.”
“Illegal?”
“Yes.”
The direct answer surprised her.
Julian continued.
“His older brother, Victor, handled the parts my father pretended not to see.”
Gambling.
Protection rackets.
Dock theft.
Money washed through clubs.
Not movie empire.
Ugly.
Ordinary criminal economics.
Julian inherited enough influence to either continue or dismantle.
At twenty-five, he chose both.
He cleaned some businesses.
Used others.
And when a rival threatened Teresa, Julian responded violently.
“How violent?”
Emily asked.
He looked at her.
“I put a man in the hospital.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Did he deserve it?”
“No one deserves what anger wants to call justice.”
That was not the answer she expected.
“I was arrested.”
“What happened?”
“Charges reduced. Witnesses became uncooperative.”
Emily understood what that meant without needing detail.
“Claire knew?”
“Yes.”
“She almost left.”
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
“For three weeks.”
Julian’s face tightened.
“She came back after I agreed Victor would never control my decisions again.”
“And?”
“I spent years separating Mercer International from him.”
“Did you succeed?”
“Mostly.”
Mostly.
The dangerous word.
“Elias helped?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Elias Voss had been the friend who helped Julian transform.
He moved money into legitimate structures.
Closed illegal routes.
Sold clubs.
Negotiated with unions and lenders.
He became CFO.
Godfather to Lily.
The man Julian trusted to stand beside Claire when Julian traveled.
Emily understood why Julian’s mind resisted the conclusion.
If Elias betrayed him, then part of the clean empire might have been built by the very person using its shadows.
“Do you think Claire knew your history made Elias safe?”
Julian frowned.
“What?”
“If everybody feared you, then illegal shipments using your routes would be easy to blame on you.”
He stared.
Emily continued.
“You were the camouflage.”
Something cold entered his expression.
“Yes.”
The possibility hurt.
Because it made sense.
At six-thirty, Lily called Julian’s phone.
He answered immediately.
“Hi.”
“Where are you?”
“At Emily’s.”
Emily heard the gasp through the speaker.
“You slept there?”
Julian closed his eyes.
“No.”
“Grandma said you weren’t home.”
“I was handling something.”
“Is Emily okay?”
Julian looked at her.
“Yes.”
Lily’s voice changed.
“Can she come back?”
Emily’s throat tightened.
Julian did not answer.
He looked at her.
Again.
Choice.
Emily said loudly:
“Not today.”
Lily groaned.
“Why?”
“Because I need sleep.”
“You can sleep here.”
“Your house has too many rooms.”
“That is why.”
Emily laughed.
“Maybe this week.”
Lily became immediately cheerful.
“Promise?”
“No.”
“Papa says promises matter.”
Julian looked toward Emily.
“Your father is becoming inconvenient.”
“He usually is.”
After the call, Julian stood.
“I’ll go.”
Emily blinked.
“That’s it?”
“You asked for security downstairs and police.”
“Yes.”
“You did not ask me to stay.”
Her heart shifted.
“Correct.”
He picked up his coat.
At the door, he stopped.
“If the sender contacts you—”
“I call police.”
“And me.”
“Police first.”
Julian’s mouth tightened.
“Fine.”
“Then you.”
“Acceptable.”
He left.
Emily locked the door.
For five minutes, she stood in silence.
Then her phone rang.
Howard Bell.
Her manager.
“Emily.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“This isn’t a social call.”
Of course not.
Howard sounded nervous.
He had received a complaint.
About Emily bringing “dangerous individuals” to Bell & Rowan after closing.
“What dangerous individuals?”
He avoided.
Then:
“Ownership is concerned.”
“I didn’t invite them.”
“Security footage shows Mercer people entered a locked restaurant.”
“Daniel opened the door.”
“Exactly.”
Howard exhaled.
“Emily, I have to suspend you pending review.”
Her stomach dropped.
“On Christmas?”
“I’m sorry.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
No shift.
No money.
Rent in twelve days.
Emily closed her eyes.
“Paid?”
Silence.
“No.”
Of course.
The call ended.
Emily sat on her bed.
She almost called Julian.
Did not.
If she told him, he would fix it.
Call the owner.
Threaten something legal and terrifying.
Maybe buy the restaurant out of spite.
She could already hear Sarah saying let him.
No.
Emily needed choices.
She opened her laptop.
Old.
Slow.
Then searched:
accounting degree completion online New York.
She had survived alone for years.
Perhaps this was the moment to stop confusing survival with a plan.
At noon, another message came from the unknown number.
SORRY ABOUT THE JOB.
Emily’s blood went cold.
The sender knew about her suspension almost immediately.
Then:
THIS GETS WORSE IF YOU KEEP SEEING THEM.
Now Emily understood.
The threat was not only connected to Claire.
Someone had influence inside Bell & Rowan.
Maybe ownership.
Maybe management.
She forwarded everything to police.
Then to Julian.
He called.
Emily answered before he could speak.
“No.”
Silence.
“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“You’re going to ask whether you can handle the restaurant.”
“I was going to ask whether you are safe.”
Emily stopped.
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then:
“May I have my attorney investigate Bell & Rowan’s ownership structure?”
That was different.
Relevant to threat source.
Emily thought.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“And Julian?”
“Yes?”
“I got suspended.”
Silence.
His voice lowered.
“Because of me.”
“Because someone wants me to think being near you costs me things.”
Julian said nothing.
Emily continued.
“So don’t make them right by deciding my next job.”
Another pause.
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
“But I may send you an accounting textbook.”
She almost smiled.
“Do that and I’ll burn it.”
“You need better coffee.”
“Goodbye, Julian.”
“Emily.”
“What?”
“Merry Christmas.”
She looked around her silent apartment.
Claire’s music box on the counter.
Snow outside.
A security officer downstairs.
A suspended job.
A mafia boss learning to ask permission.
“Merry Christmas.”
That evening, Julian’s attorney called.
Bell & Rowan’s owner was not connected to Elias Voss.
At least not directly.
The majority investor was a hospitality fund.
One minority investor owned seven percent.
A shell company.
Blue Crest Hospitality Holdings.
Emily stared at the email.
Blue Crest.
The same name Claire had uncovered.
The threat had reached her job because Elias’s network—or someone using it—already had money inside Bell & Rowan.
May you like
And that meant Lily had not wandered into an entirely random restaurant on Christmas Eve.
Someone connected to Claire’s secret had already been close to Emily before she met Julian Mercer.
