Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO OPENED THE DOOR
Simon didn't run.
That somehow frightened me more.
Dominic stepped between us.
“Explain.”
Simon looked at him.
“You won't like the answer.”
“Try me.”
Simon glanced at the briefcase.
“The contracts were never supposed to be here.”
“Who put them here?”
“Your father.”
“Why?”
Simon looked at me.
“To protect you.”
I shook my head.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
“No.”
My voice cracked.
“Everyone knew something about my family except me.”
Simon lowered his eyes.
“I was told not to tell you until you found the key.”
“By whom?”
“My father.”
I stared at him.
“Your father?”
Simon nodded.
“He worked with Daniel.”
Dominic looked surprised.
“You never told me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Simon looked at the documents.
“The same people your father was afraid of.”
Natalia picked up the photograph.
“Who was the woman with Daniel?”
Simon looked at her.
“Her name was Elena Harper.”
My heart stopped.
My mother.
The name I had never been allowed to ask about.
“She wasn't dead,” I said.
“No.”
“Where is she?”
Simon shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Then who does?”
Simon hesitated.
“Your father's old contact in Prague.”
Victor's expression changed.
“Petrov.”
Simon nodded.
Victor looked at Dominic.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
“Petrov disappeared six years ago.”
Simon corrected him.
“He disappeared publicly.”
I stared at them.
“How many people in my father's life are supposedly dead?”
Nobody answered.
Then a sound came from the hallway.
A bottle rolled across the floor.
Dominic immediately drew his weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
The bottle stopped.
A folded note was taped beneath it.
I picked it up.
Dominic said, “Don't.”
I ignored him.
The note contained one sentence.
THE FIFTH NAME IS NOT A PERSON. IT IS THE PLACE WHERE THEY MEET.
I looked at the contracts.
Five names.
Five locations.
The fifth wasn't Anton Belov.
It was a warehouse address.
In Manhattan.
Only three miles from Le Rêve.
Victor read it.
“That warehouse belongs to Pierce Logistics.”
Dominic's face changed.
“What?”
I looked at him.
“You own it?”
“Yes.”
“Then whoever is behind this has been using your company.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Without my knowledge.”
Simon shook his head.
“Not entirely.”
Everyone turned.
He pointed toward the contract.
“There is a second authorization.”
Dominic took the document.
His face went still.
The authorization bore his signature.
But the date was from a day when Dominic had been in Europe.
“I didn't sign this.”
Simon nodded.
“I know.”
“Then who did?”
Simon looked at me.
“Your father knew.”
I felt exhausted.
“Stop saying that.”
Simon took a breath.
“He discovered that someone had access to Dominic's signature files.”
Dominic stared at him.
“Who?”
Simon hesitated.
Then he said,
“Your chief financial officer.”
Victor frowned.
“Marcus Reed?”
Simon nodded.
Dominic laughed once.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Marcus has worked for me for twelve years.”
“So did my father.”
Dominic's expression changed.
The room became quiet.
He looked at the contracts again.
Then he removed his phone.
“Call Marcus.”
No answer.
Dominic called again.
Nothing.
Victor looked at him.
“Where is he?”
Dominic didn't know.
Natalia suddenly pointed at the photograph.
“Look.”
The image of my father and mother had a reflection in the window behind them.
A third person.
A man standing outside.
I leaned closer.
I knew him.
Not personally.
But from the restaurant.
He had been at Le Rêve earlier that week.
Marcus Reed.
Dominic stared.
“That photograph was taken three years before Marcus joined my company.”
I looked at him.
“Then he wasn't working for you.”
“No.”
Dominic's voice dropped.
“He was working for my father.”
Everything clicked.
The network.
The stolen contracts.
The manipulated negotiations.
The medical debt.
The watch.
My father's death.
Marcus had access long before Dominic knew he existed.
But why had he stayed hidden?
I turned toward Simon.
“Where is Marcus now?”
Simon looked at me.
“He's at Pier 17.”
My blood ran cold.
The address from the note.
Dominic immediately moved toward the stairs.
“We're going.”
“No,” Natalia said.
Everyone stopped.
She pointed toward the briefcase.
“There is something else.”
Inside the bottom lining was a small envelope.
It contained a plane ticket.
Prague to New York.
Passenger:
ELENA HARPER.
Date:
Tomorrow.
I stared at the name.
My mother was coming home.
Then another piece of paper slipped from the envelope.
A handwritten note.
IF ELENA RETURNS, THEY WILL KILL DOMINIC FIRST.
Dominic looked at me.
I looked back.
May you like
And for the first time, neither of us knew whether we were trying to find my mother—
or protect her from the man sitting across the room.
