Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITH NO WINDOWS
Adrian moved Claire and Daniel before police arrived.
Not to hide the shooting.
The police received the report.
The bullet fragments.
The security footage.
Everything legitimate investigators needed.
But Adrian did not leave Claire in an apartment whose address Victor clearly knew.
He took them to a Moretti safe residence outside Boston.
Claire hated the term.
"Safe house sounds criminal."
"It has a kitchen."
"So does prison."
"Better sheets."
"Debatable."
Daniel received treatment for a clean gunshot wound through the shoulder.
By evening, he was sleeping under medication.
Claire stood in the kitchen staring at rain.
Adrian entered.
"You should sleep."
"You should stop telling me what to do."
"Occupational habit."
"Your occupation isn't being my father."
"No."
"Or my husband."
Adrian's gaze rested on her for one beat too long.
Claire noticed.
Neither spoke.
Then she said:
"Victor tried to kill him."
"Probably."
"Stop saying probably."
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
"That's usually my line."
"I hate this."
"Good."
"What?"
"You should."
She turned.
"Why?"
"Because people who become comfortable with betrayal usually end up causing it."
Claire studied him.
"Did Victor teach you that?"
"My father."
"Do you still believe your father was innocent?"
The question cut deeper than she intended.
Adrian walked toward the table.
"I don't know."
"Daniel said the signatures were forged."
"Daniel also disappeared for fourteen years."
"To protect us."
"So he says."
Claire stiffened.
"You're calling him a liar?"
"I'm calling him a man I met six hours ago."
"And Victor?"
"A man I've known nineteen years."
"Exactly."
Adrian looked at her.
"Meaning?"
"You're still protecting him."
That angered him because it might be true.
"I'm investigating him."
"While doubting my father."
"I doubt everyone."
"Do you doubt me?"
Silence.
Claire laughed softly.
"There it is."
Adrian moved closer.
"I trusted you with every document in my company."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
Her expression changed.
He continued.
"I don't doubt you."
"Why?"
He had no comfortable explanation.
Because she had warned him when running would have been safer.
Because she had spent four months investigating theft that did not cost her a dollar.
Because trapped in a powerless elevator, believing she might die, Claire had used her remaining strength to protect him.
Instead he said:
"Because you correct my grammar."
She stared.
"What?"
"People planning to destroy me generally don't spend five years fixing semicolons."
Claire laughed despite herself.
Then the lights went out.
She froze.
Adrian noticed immediately.
Backup lights activated.
Soft amber.
But Claire was no longer in the kitchen.
Not mentally.
Her breathing changed.
"Claire."
No response.
He approached slowly.
"Look at me."
Her hands trembled.
"Claire."
She looked at him.
"The lights are off."
"I noticed."
"Don't be sarcastic."
"Then keep looking at me."
Her breathing accelerated.
Adrian understood.
The elevator.
Age nine.
Enclosed spaces.
Darkness.
He moved closer but did not touch her.
"Generator will start."
"What if it doesn't?"
"Then Marcus will spend an unpleasant morning explaining why."
That almost worked.
"Tell me something."
"What?"
"Anything."
Adrian frowned.
"I own three restaurants and dislike all of them."
Claire blinked.
"What?"
"One serves portions too small to legally qualify as dinner."
She breathed.
"Another has a chef Victor hired who thinks foam is food."
Another breath.
"The third makes excellent pasta."
"Then why do you hate it?"
"Too many people know me."
The generator came alive.
Lights returned.
Claire closed her eyes.
"Thank you."
Adrian looked away.
"Don't mention it."
"I won't."
At 2:00 a.m., Marcus arrived with news.
The shooter had escaped.
But the rifle was recovered.
Serial number removed.
Partial fingerprint.
Not Victor's.
A man named Samuel Rourke.
Former private military contractor.
Currently employed by Atlantic Harbor Management.
Adrian smiled without humor.
"Now we have proof."
Claire entered.
"Proof of what?"
"Atlantic Harbor tried to kill your father."
"Not Victor."
Adrian's smile disappeared.
"You're determined to ruin my evening."
"It's two in the morning."
"My point stands."
Marcus handed her a file.
Rourke's financial records showed monthly payments from Atlantic Harbor.
Atlantic Harbor's registered manager was a Delaware attorney.
That attorney represented dozens of shell entities.
But one wire transfer originated from Hale Strategic Consulting.
Victor's private company.
Claire sat.
"There."
Adrian watched her.
"Say it."
"What?"
"You were right."
"I'm not enjoying it."
"Neither am I."
The room became quiet.
Marcus asked:
"What now?"
Adrian looked toward Daniel's room.
"Victor believes Daniel is dead or wounded badly enough to disappear."
"He'll know Rourke failed."
"Eventually."
Claire understood first.
"You want to use my father as bait."
"No."
Her eyes hardened.
"Adrian."
"I want Victor to believe Daniel has something he doesn't."
"What?"
"A ledger."
Marcus smiled.
Claire did not.
"You want to invent evidence."
"I want to invent the existence of evidence."
"Difference?"
"Several felonies."
She stared.
Adrian continued.
"We tell one person Daniel kept the original Harbor Atlantic ledger."
"Who?"
"Peter Sloan."
"The CFO?"
"Victor trusts him."
"Do you?"
"No."
"Excellent workplace culture."
Adrian ignored her.
"Peter will tell Victor."
"And Victor will move."
"Exactly."
"What if he comes after my father again?"
"He won't know where Daniel is."
"What if he comes after me?"
Adrian's expression changed.
"He won't."
Claire heard the promise beneath the words.
"How can you guarantee that?"
Adrian stepped closer.
"Because from this moment forward, you don't go anywhere alone."
She crossed her arms.
"Absolutely not."
"That wasn't a request."
"I resign."
"Rejected."
"You can't reject a resignation."
"I just did."
"That's not how employment law works."
"Then sue me."
Claire stared at him.
Marcus looked between them.
"I'll be outside."
"Stay," Claire snapped.
Marcus immediately left.
Coward.
Claire turned back.
"You do not own me."
Adrian went still.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Then stop giving orders like my life belongs to you."
Something changed in his face.
"Your life doesn't belong to me."
"Good."
"But somebody tried to take it because you were protecting something that does."
"My company."
She blinked.
He continued.
"My name was on that envelope."
"Because the evidence concerned you."
"If you had died in that elevator—"
He stopped.
Claire waited.
Adrian Moretti, who could negotiate million-dollar deals without pausing, seemed unable to finish one sentence.
"What?" she asked quietly.
His jaw tightened.
"I would have burned this city apart looking for whoever did it."
Claire's anger disappeared.
"That's not romantic."
"I wasn't trying to be."
"It's terrifying."
"I know."
"Adrian."
"I know."
Silence stretched.
Then Claire said:
"Promise me something."
He almost smiled.
"You're becoming demanding."
"No killing Victor."
His expression flattened.
"If he tries to kill us again—"
"Self-defense is different."
"Generous."
"I mean revenge."
Adrian looked at her.
"Let the evidence destroy him."
He thought of Victor teaching him to shoot.
Victor standing beside his father's grave.
Victor pouring bourbon after Adrian's first major victory.
Victor telling him loyalty was architecture.
Then Claire, unconscious in an elevator, clutching an envelope with his name.
"Fine."
"Fine what?"
"I promise."
Claire exhaled.
Then Adrian added:
"But if he touches you again, I'm renegotiating."
"Adrian."
"Good night, Claire."
He left.
She watched him go.
Neither knew Victor Hale had already made his next move.
At 2:37 a.m., a Boston television station received an anonymous package.
Inside were copies of the nine forged Moretti approvals.
Claire's personnel records.
And documents making it appear she had created Atlantic Harbor Management herself.
May you like
By sunrise, every news outlet in Boston would be asking the same question.
Had Adrian Moretti's trusted secretary been stealing from him all along?
