Chương 8 - THE LAST PAGE
Nikolai stepped in front of me.
Again.
It was becoming a habit.
This time I touched his arm.
Not to stop him.
To remind him I was still there.
Graham Heartwell noticed.
“Romantic.”
His voice was warm.
Almost grandfatherly.
That made it worse.
Viriato moved toward the door.
Two men appeared behind Graham.
Neither carried a visible weapon.
Neither needed to.
“We should talk,” Graham said.
Nikolai’s expression remained unreadable.
“You tried to kidnap Serena.”
“I tried to prevent several considerably more dangerous men from getting her first.”
I almost laughed.
“That is not a defense.”
“No.”
His eyes moved to my stomach.
“It is an explanation.”
“Explain the man who threatened my baby.”
Graham’s face hardened.
“That instruction was not mine.”
“Take the pregnant woman alive.”
“I said alive and unharmed.”
“How generous.”
One of the men behind him looked away.
Graham noticed.
So did Viriato.
Interesting.
“You lost control of your own people,” Nikolai said.
“Control is temporary.”
Graham smiled faintly.
“You should know.”
Nikolai did not react.
“What do you want?”
“The last page.”
“We don’t have it.”
“Yes, you do.”
Graham pointed toward the charcoal portrait under Nikolai’s arm.
“Sofia was clever. Not magical.”
I thought about the layered paper.
We had found only one hidden strip.
Maybe there was another.
Graham continued.
“Your mother discovered where we kept the original financial ledger. She copied one page before Tomas moved her.”
“One page?”
“The page linking every charitable transfer to the private accounts receiving the money.”
I understood.
Not evidence of one crime.
A map of everyone.
Politicians.
Executives.
Foundations.
Maybe officers.
Maybe judges.
I looked at Elena.
“Is that true?”
“I never saw it.”
Graham smiled.
“Because Sofia never trusted Elena completely.”
Elena flinched.
That told me he knew exactly where to cut.
Nikolai said, “Why keep Serena alive?”
“Because Sofia taught her daughter to draw.”
I stared.
Graham’s eyes came to me.
“You use pressure marks unconsciously. Your mother did too.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The paper.”
Viriato looked down at the charcoal portrait.
Graham nodded.
“Sofia placed the last page beneath several sheets and wrote through them.”
My pulse jumped.
Indentations.
Not invisible ink.
Pressure.
My mother had hidden information in the paper itself.
Graham looked almost admiring.
“For nineteen years, we searched for the surviving sheets.”
“And I used one for a portrait.”
“Yes.”
I thought of my mother storing paper in cardboard boxes.
Of carrying them into my first apartment.
Of drawing grocery-store customers and neighbors and, eventually, Nikolai.
My entire life had been sitting on top of something people were willing to kill for.
Nikolai handed the portrait to Viriato.
“Photograph every inch.”
Graham’s smile disappeared.
“You think releasing it protects her?”
“Yes.”
“No. Releasing it makes her permanently useful to every enemy connected to that page.”
He looked at me.
“Give it to me and this ends.”
I met his eyes.
“Did my mother give it to you?”
Something in his face shifted.
“No.”
“Then why would I?”
For the first time, his kindness vanished.
“Because your mother’s refusal got people killed.”
Viriato stepped forward.
“My brother.”
“Yes.”
The word was cold.
“And others.”
“People you ordered killed?”
Graham looked genuinely offended.
“Do you imagine the world your lover’s father built was maintained by polite disagreement?”
“I’m not asking about his father.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re asking whether I made choices to contain violence.”
“By causing violence?”
“Sometimes.”
There it was.
Not madness.
Not cartoon evil.
A man who had justified the same decision so many times it had become morality in his own head.
Graham looked at Nikolai.
“Your father understood. You never did.”
“My father died surrounded by enemies.”
“He died powerful.”
“He died alone.”
That landed.
Julian appeared behind Graham’s men.
For one terrible second, I thought he had betrayed us again.
Then he raised both hands.
“Before anybody panics, I came with federal investigators.”
Graham turned sharply.
Julian’s mouth tightened.
“My company issued the credentials. My servers preserved everything.”
“You’ll destroy yourself,” Graham said.
“Probably.”
Julian glanced at me.
“Some things should cost you.”
It wasn’t redemption.
But it was the first decent thing I had seen him do without expecting anything back.
Sirens approached outside.
Graham did not panic.
Instead, he reached beneath his coat.
Nikolai moved.
So did Viriato.
A small pistol appeared in Graham’s hand.
His men immediately stepped away from him.
Even they hadn’t expected that.
Graham pointed the weapon toward the portrait.
“Drop it.”
Viriato froze.
“Graham,” Elena said.
His eyes flicked to her.
“You always were the sentimental one.”
“No.”
Her voice was steady.
“I was the cowardly one.”
That seemed to surprise him.
“I spent years pretending distance kept my son safe.”
She moved closer.
“It only left him alone.”
Nikolai looked at her.
Something passed between them.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But maybe the first plank of a bridge.
Graham’s finger tightened.
“Enough.”
My daughter shifted violently inside me.
A deep ache crossed my lower abdomen.
I inhaled.
Nikolai heard it.
“Serena?”
“I’m fine.”
Graham looked at me.
Then smiled strangely.
“Do you know what your mother’s final mistake was?”
I stared at him.
“She trusted a Machado.”
Nikolai’s face hardened.
Graham’s eyes remained on mine.
“Ask him.”
“Ask him what?”
“Ask Nikolai who told his father where Sofia and Elena were meeting that night.”
The room went silent.
I looked at Nikolai.
His face had lost all color.
That was answer enough.
“Nikolai?”
His lips parted.
Before he could speak, pain tore through my abdomen.
Sharp.
Deep.
Wrong.
I doubled over.
Warm liquid spilled down my legs.
Nikolai caught me before I hit the floor.
“Serena.”
My water had broken.
At thirty-one weeks pregnant.
Sirens screamed outside.
Graham Heartwell still held the gun.
May you like
And Nikolai whispered the words I had been terrified to hear.
“He’s telling the truth.”
