Chapter 3 - The Woman Everyone Thought Was My Rival
Isabella Costa had been presented to me as everything I could never become.
She possessed an ancient family name, political influence, and the kind of confidence that came from entering rooms already certain they belonged to her. I had spent weeks believing she intended to marry Taylor and remove me from his life.
Instead, she had crossed the country to save me.
Her driver took us to a private airfield south of Portland. We boarded a small jet registered to a medical charity owned by the Costa family. Only after the aircraft rose above the clouds did Isabella explain the photograph.
“My mother was an assistant United States attorney,” she said. “Twenty years ago, she began investigating money laundering through New York’s shipping unions. Your father was assigned to her task force.”
I studied the picture. My father looked younger, his hair still dark, his expression serious.
“He never mentioned her.”
“They had reason to stay silent. The investigation uncovered connections between the Morettis, Northstar Strategic Services, and corrupt officials inside several federal agencies.”
“What happened?”
“My mother was killed in a house fire. The report called it an electrical accident.”
The same cold recognition moved through me.
“And my father died before he could reopen the case.”
“Yes.”
Isabella opened a leather folder containing copies of sealed court documents.
“Their investigation was called Project Lantern. Most of the files disappeared after their deaths. I have searched for the surviving evidence for twelve years.”
“Why did you return to Taylor?”
“Dominic contacted my family. He proposed an alliance and claimed Taylor wanted to restore our engagement.”
“He told Taylor I was a weakness.”
“Dominic needed you removed. He knew you were searching the accounts.”
The truth was beginning to form.
Dominic had manipulated Taylor into humiliating me, knowing I might leave. Vincent had monitored the security system, waiting for me to take the evidence. Once I disappeared, they could blame the Morettis and push Taylor into a war that weakened both organizations.
“Leonardo Moretti is part of this,” I said.
“Leonardo is ambitious, but he is not the architect. Dominic and Vincent intend to destroy Taylor, remove Leonardo, and divide the city between themselves.”
“Then why are Vincent’s men trying to kill me instead of recovering the drives?”
“Because the files may prove they murdered federal agents. Money laundering can be negotiated. Killing your father cannot.”
The jet landed at a private property in northern California. Isabella led me into a secluded mansion surrounded by vineyards and armed Costa guards.
For the first time in days, I was able to sleep.
I dreamed of Taylor.
In the dream, he stood inside the penthouse with his gun lowered. Blood covered his hands, but when I tried to reach him, the floor split between us.
I woke before dawn to find Isabella sitting beside the window with a laptop.
“Taylor has attacked three more Moretti properties,” she said.
“Did anyone die?”
“Eleven men.”
I closed my eyes.
“He has to stop.”
“He will not stop until he sees you.”
“I’m not going back.”
“Then call him.”
Isabella connected a secure video channel.
Taylor answered immediately.
He was inside his study, wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A dark bruise marked his jaw. He looked exhausted.
When he saw me, every part of him became still.
“Leave us,” he ordered someone outside the frame.
The door closed behind him.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
His gaze moved across my face as though checking for injuries.
“You cut your hair.”
Of all the things he might have said, that was what broke my composure.
“I needed to look different.”
“I liked it before.”
“I didn’t cut it for you.”
“I know.”
There was no anger in his voice.
I folded my arms.
“You have to end the war.”
“Tell me where Vincent is.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I have no reason to stop.”
“People are dying because of me.”
“No. They are dying because they participated in a conspiracy against my family.”
“You don’t know who participated. You are reacting exactly as Dominic expected.”
Taylor’s eyes sharpened.
“What did Isabella tell you?”
“The truth.”
“Isabella’s family has reasons to weaken mine.”
“And Dominic has reasons to make you suspicious of everyone except him.”
He turned away and poured a drink.
I remembered how often he used that gesture to hide emotion.
“Taylor, my father was killed through Northstar. Dominic and Vincent approved the payment.”
He gripped the glass so tightly I expected it to break.
“I have reviewed the records you left.”
“Then you know.”
“I know the authorization codes were used. I do not know who used them.”
“Vincent did.”
“He saved my life when I was seventeen.”
“And perhaps he has spent every year since making certain you never learned why you were attacked.”
Taylor looked toward the screen.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to stop striking the Morettis. I want you to pretend you still trust Vincent and Dominic.”
“For what purpose?”
“To make them believe their plan is working.”
“You are asking me to invite traitors into my home.”
“I lived in your home for three years.”
The words landed harder than I intended.
His voice lowered.
“Do you truly believe I would have killed you that night?”
“You were holding the gun.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I don’t know.”
Pain moved across his expression.
Taylor Rossi was feared because no one saw his wounds. That morning, he allowed me to see one.
“I would have emptied every weapon in New York into my own chest before I fired at you.”
“Then why did you aim it?”
“Because when I saw you leaving, I panicked.”
“You don’t panic.”
“I did.”
I looked away.
“Taylor—”
“I said you meant nothing because Dominic convinced me that the only way to keep you safe was to make everyone believe it. But I also said it because you frightened me.”
“How?”
“You made me imagine a life beyond the organization. A house without guards. Children who did not know how to identify gunfire. Mornings when the first thing I touched was you instead of a weapon.”
His confession left me unable to breathe.
“You never told me.”
“I did not know how.”
“You knew how to threaten me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew how to control me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew how to lock me inside your world and call it protection.”
His gaze fell.
“Yes.”
“Love without freedom isn’t love.”
“I understand that now.”
“No, you understand that because I escaped.”
He did not argue.
A warning light flashed on Isabella’s laptop.
She moved into view.
“We have a security breach.”
Taylor stood.
“What kind?”
“Someone traced the video channel.”
The mansion’s alarm began to sound.
Isabella opened a drawer and removed a pistol.
“Your uncle works quickly.”
An explosion shook the building.
The video connection broke.
Guards shouted in the corridor. Isabella pulled me toward a hidden staircase as gunfire erupted downstairs.
We descended into a stone wine cellar.
“Where does this lead?” I asked.
“To an old drainage tunnel.”
The door above us burst open.
Vincent appeared at the top of the stairs.
He held a pistol, but he was alone.
“Step away from her, Isabella.”
Isabella aimed back.
“You should have stayed loyal.”
Vincent smiled.
“Loyalty is a story powerful men tell poor men to keep them obedient.”
His gaze shifted to me.
“Give me the drives, Alex.”
“You killed my father.”
“I followed instructions.”
“Dominic’s?”
“Your father should have stopped asking questions.”
Rage moved through me, but I kept my voice steady.
“And Henry Caldwell?”
“Alive, last I heard.”
My heart stopped.
“My supervisor is alive?”
“He became useful.”
“Where is he?”
“Give me the evidence.”
Isabella whispered, “Don’t.”
Vincent took another step down.
“You cannot win. Dominic controls judges, federal agents, and half the men Taylor thinks belong to him.”
A gunshot cracked behind Vincent.
He jerked forward and fell down the stairs.
Taylor stood in the doorway.
Blood darkened one shoulder of his coat.
His pistol remained raised.
He looked at Vincent, then at me.
“I told you I would reach her.”
Vincent groaned and tried to lift his weapon.
Taylor kicked it away.
“You betrayed my father,” Taylor said.
Vincent laughed through the pain.
“Your father betrayed himself. He believed Dominic loved him.”
Taylor’s face turned pale.
“What are you saying?”
Vincent looked toward me.
“Ask your accountant who truly ordered the car bomb that made Taylor Rossi an orphan.”
Taylor stared down at him.
“My parents died in a plane crash.”
“No,” Vincent whispered. “That is merely the story your uncle purchased.”
Before he could say more, a shot entered through the broken cellar window.
Vincent’s body went still.
Taylor pulled me behind the stone wall as more bullets struck the cellar.
He covered me with his body.
For three years, I had wondered whether he would choose me over his empire.
Now, while glass and stone exploded around us, he did not hesitate.
“Take the tunnel,” he told Isabella.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’ll hold them here.”
“No.”
Taylor looked at me.
For once, there was no command in his eyes.
Only a plea.
“Alex, go.”
I reached for his hand.
“You said you wanted a life beyond this.”
May you like
His fingers closed around mine.
“Then survive long enough to earn it.”
