Chapter 5 - The Five Million
Glass rained across the floor.
Dominic hit the ground beside Harper.
His men returned fire toward the dark building across the river.
Harper crawled toward Liam.
“You okay?”
“Define okay.”
“You’re joking. Good sign.”
Dominic grabbed Harper’s arm and pulled both siblings behind a steel support.
“Stay down.”
Another shot hit the brick.
Ronan remained on the floor, strangely calm.
Dominic noticed.
“You expected this.”
Ronan gave a bitter laugh.
“I expected all of us to die eventually.”
“Who’s shooting?”
Ronan looked toward the shattered window.
“The people your father tried to escape.”
Police sirens grew louder now.
Real police.
Dominic’s men moved everyone downstairs.
Harper refused to leave without Liam.
Dominic refused to leave without answers.
Eventually all three ended up in the back of an armored SUV while two trusted men drove.
Ronan and Evan were taken separately.
Harper pressed gauze against a cut on Dominic’s shoulder.
“It’s not deep.”
“I know.”
“You could pretend this hurts.”
“Would that improve your mood?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll conserve energy.”
She pressed harder.
He winced.
“There.”
“You’re enjoying that.”
“A little.”
Liam sat opposite them.
Despite bruises and exhaustion, he smiled.
“You two are weird.”
Harper pointed at him.
“You are banned from opinions until you explain why you told me you owed a mafia boss $180,000.”
Liam’s smile disappeared.
Dominic looked interested.
Liam sighed.
“I owed money.”
“To whom?”
“Sports betting.”
Harper shut her eyes.
“Of course.”
“I stopped.”
“After?”
“After it got bad.”
“How bad?”
“Thirty thousand.”
“The number you told me.”
“Yes.”
“So where did Dominic come from?”
“The people I owed claimed they were connected to Gallagher.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“They weren’t.”
“I know that now.”
Harper stared.
“And when you witnessed someone using Locker 47?”
“I thought if I took whatever was there to Dominic, maybe I could prove someone was using his name.”
“That is possibly the stupidest heroic plan I have ever heard.”
“I was trying to fix it.”
“Stop trying to fix things.”
Liam nodded.
“Fair.”
Dominic’s phone rang.
His attorney had uncovered information about the five million.
Not money anymore.
An investment.
Michael Quinn and Patrick Gallagher had placed it into a trust.
Harper listened on speaker.
The attorney said, “It’s worth approximately eighty-two million now.”
Harper nearly dropped the gauze.
“What?”
Dominic remained silent.
The attorney continued.
“The trust has two beneficiaries.”
Dominic already knew.
“Us.”
“Yes. Dominic Gallagher and Harper Quinn.”
Liam stared.
Harper laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“Of course.”
The attorney explained.
Their fathers had intended the fund to finance legitimate companies and help employees leave criminal operations.
But the trust required both beneficiaries to authorize access.
Neither had known it existed.
Ronan had known.
And apparently spent eighteen years trying to gain control.
Harper leaned back.
“Why not kill us?”
Dominic answered.
“Trust probably transfers elsewhere if one beneficiary dies.”
The attorney confirmed it.
“To a federal charitable foundation.”
Harper stared out the window.
“So Ronan needed us alive.”
“Alive and cooperative,” Dominic said.
“Which explains the fake debt. Liam. The surveillance.”
“And perhaps,” Dominic added, “why Evan inserted himself into your life.”
That hurt more than Harper expected.
Six years.
Had every conversation been false?
Every promotion?
Every kind gesture?
Dominic seemed to read her expression.
“Some betrayals are easier if you decide the whole relationship was fake.”
She looked at him.
“And?”
“Usually it wasn’t.”
“Meaning?”
“People can care about you and still choose themselves.”
Harper looked away.
That sounded experienced.
“Who betrayed you?”
Dominic was quiet.
“My mother.”
She turned back.
He spoke without drama.
“When my father died, she gave Ronan control of several companies because she thought I was too young.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty.”
“She trusted Ronan over her son?”
“She trusted stability.”
“What happened?”
“Ronan made sure she regretted it.”
Harper waited.
Dominic did not elaborate.
The SUV reached another Gallagher property.
Smaller.
Heavily secured.
Dominic refused the penthouse.
“Compromised,” he said.
Inside, Harper helped Liam settle into a guest room.
When they were alone, he caught her wrist.
“Harper.”
“What?”
“Don’t trust Dominic just because he helped us.”
“I don’t.”
Liam gave her a look.
“What?”
“You looked worried when he got cut.”
“I’m a human being.”
“You also slapped him.”
“Also human.”
Liam smiled weakly.
Then became serious.
“He said you’d stand beside him.”
“It was theater.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
That honesty surprised both of them.
Later, Harper found Dominic in the kitchen.
No guards.
No dramatic office.
He stood at a counter making coffee.
“You drink coffee at three in the morning?”
“I haven’t slept properly since 2008.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“It’s efficient.”
She sat.
“What happens to the trust?”
“We secure it.”
“And then?”
“We find out what our fathers intended.”
“Our fathers.”
The phrase felt strange.
Dominic placed a cup before her.
“My father knew yours better than I did.”
“My father never mentioned Gallaghers.”
“Mine mentioned Michael constantly.”
Harper looked up.
“What did he say?”
“That he was the only man in Chicago who could tell Patrick Gallagher he was wrong and survive.”
Harper smiled despite herself.
“That sounds like Dad.”
Dominic watched her.
Something changed in the silence.
Not romance exactly.
Recognition.
Two children of complicated fathers discovering they had inherited the same unfinished problem.
Harper broke eye contact first.
“About what you said in the penthouse.”
Dominic leaned against the counter.
“The future-wife statement.”
“Yes.”
“You’re concerned?”
“I’m deciding whether to slap you again.”
“Then I should answer carefully.”
“Good instinct.”
He took a breath.
“I said it because Ronan was watching.”
“So it was fake.”
“The announcement was strategic.”
Harper narrowed her eyes.
“That is not the same answer.”
“No.”
“What’s the other answer?”
Dominic looked at her for a long moment.
“That I meant more of it than I expected.”
Her heartbeat changed.
She hated that he probably noticed.
“You met me tonight.”
“I’ve known who you were for years.”
Harper froze.
“What?”
He realized his mistake immediately.
“You knew me?”
“I knew your name.”
“How?”
“After my father died, I searched old records. Michael Quinn appeared frequently. I found his family.”
“You investigated us.”
“I made sure nobody from my father’s world bothered you.”
Harper stood.
“You watched us?”
“No surveillance. Nothing like Evan. I checked occasionally that you and Liam were safe.”
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I suspected Michael died because of my family.”
The anger left her as quickly as it came.
Dominic looked genuinely burdened.
“I thought leaving you alone was the least I owed him.”
Harper sat again.
Neither spoke.
Then Dominic’s secure phone buzzed.
A message from his attorney.
He opened it.
His face changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward Harper.
LEGAL ACCESS TO QUINN-GALLAGHER TRUST REQUIRES PRESENTATION OF ORIGINAL FOUNDERS’ KEY.
Harper frowned.
“What key?”
A second message arrived.
Two photographs.
Patrick Gallagher wearing a brass pendant.
Michael Quinn wearing the matching half.
Harper stood so quickly her chair scraped.
She knew the object.
Her father’s half had been in their family home for years.
She had packed it after his death.
“Harper?”
“I know where it is.”
“Where?”
“In a safe-deposit box.”
“At which bank?”
She looked at him.
“The one Evan drove me to the day I turned twenty-one.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“When did you last check it?”
“Years ago.”
Her phone rang.
The bank.
At three fourteen in the morning.
Harper answered.
A nervous security manager spoke.
“Ms. Quinn, I’m sorry to contact you at this hour, but someone just accessed your safe-deposit box using valid secondary authorization.”
Harper went cold.
“Who?”
“We’re reviewing the footage.”
“Is the box still there?”
A pause.
May you like
Then the manager whispered.
“It’s empty.”
