Chapter 3 - The Man Who Owed Her a Life
Dante did not allow Maren to argue after that.
For once, she didn’t try very hard.
Thirty minutes later, she sat in the rear seat of a black SUV while the city passed beyond tinted windows.
Her apartment disappeared behind them.
Dante sat opposite her.
His men occupied the front.
Maren held the threatening photograph inside an evidence sleeve Detective Ortiz had provided.
She stared at the words.
You should have stayed inside.
“Stop reading it,” Dante said.
She looked up.
“Why?”
“Because whoever wrote it wants to live inside your head.”
“They’re doing a good job.”
“Don’t help them.”
Maren slipped the photograph into her bag.
“You give surprisingly reasonable advice for someone people are afraid to mention by name.”
Dante leaned back.
“People exaggerate.”
“Do they?”
“Frequently.”
“Did someone shoot you three years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Was it because you run a charitable foundation?”
“No.”
She looked out the window.
At least he didn’t lie.
His home was not what she expected.
No iron gates topped with gold initials.
No marble statues.
No men carrying machine guns.
The residence stood behind high stone walls overlooking the Hudson.
Large.
Old.
Quiet.
Inside, warm wood replaced flashy luxury.
Family photographs lined one hallway.
Maren stopped in front of one.
A younger Dante stood beside a dark-haired woman and a teenage boy.
“Your family?”
“My wife, Sofia.”
Maren looked at him.
“Is she here?”
“She died eight years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded once.
“And the boy?”
“My son, Luca.”
“How old now?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Does he live here?”
“Sometimes.”
Dante led her to a guest suite.
A woman named Rosa brought tea, clean bandages, and enough food to feed six people.
Maren looked at the tray.
“I’m not hungry.”
Rosa looked offended.
Dante leaned toward Maren.
“Eat something before Rosa decides you’re insulting three generations of her ancestors.”
Rosa pointed at him.
“You joke, but she should eat.”
Maren managed half a bowl of soup.
Later, Dante found her in the library.
She had changed the dressing on her arm.
The facial bandage remained.
She was staring at old photographs on the shelves.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“I haven’t slept normally in five months.”
He poured himself coffee.
“At midnight?”
“I make poor decisions.”
“That makes two of us.”
He looked at her.
“You saved Evan. That wasn’t a poor decision.”
“He certainly thinks it was unnecessary.”
“He’s an idiot.”
Maren laughed softly.
Then the laugh became painful.
“I loved him.”
Dante sat across from her.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I loved my wife.”
She looked at him.
He stared into his coffee.
“Sofia became sick two years before she died.”
Maren remained quiet.
“She hated people treating her like she was already gone. So I didn’t.”
“What did you do?”
“Argued with her about leaving wet towels on the floor.”
Maren smiled.
“She sounds terrifying.”
“She was.”
His mouth softened.
“When you love someone, their weakness doesn’t make them less valuable.”
Maren’s smile vanished.
Dante looked directly at her bandage.
“Anyone who makes you believe otherwise never understood love.”
She looked away.
“You don’t even know me.”
“You stopped for a bleeding stranger in an alley.”
“That was one night.”
“It tells me enough.”
Before she could respond, Dante’s phone rang.
His expression changed when he saw the screen.
“Yes.”
He listened.
“Send it.”
A message arrived.
Dante stood.
“What is it?” Maren asked.
“Ortiz found Evan.”
Her heart jumped.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
She hated the relief she felt.
“Where?”
“Hospital.”
“What happened?”
“He says someone attacked him near his car.”
“Ryan?”
“He claims he doesn’t know.”
Maren stood.
“I want to talk to him.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Correct.”
“Good.”
“Ortiz does.”
Maren grabbed her bag.
Dante sighed.
“You really are impossible.”
“Your driver knows where the hospital is?”
Twenty minutes later they arrived.
Detective Ortiz met them outside Evan’s room.
“He has a concussion and six stitches.”
“Can I see him?”
Ortiz studied her.
“He asked for you.”
Maren almost turned around.
Instead, she entered.
Evan lay propped against white pillows.
A bruise covered one cheek.
Bandage across his forehead.
For half a second, memories betrayed her.
Evan asleep beside her.
Evan laughing while assembling cheap furniture.
Evan holding her before the fire.
Then she remembered the messages.
She stayed by the door.
He whispered, “Maren.”
“What happened?”
“I’m sorry.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He looked toward Dante.
“What is he doing here?”
“Keeping me alive, apparently.”
Evan closed his eyes.
“Maren, you have to listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“Ryan started everything.”
She remained still.
“The fire?”
Evan swallowed.
“I didn’t know he would actually do it.”
Her face went numb.
“You knew.”
“No. Not exactly.”
“You texted him while the apartment burned.”
“I panicked.”
“You wrote, ‘What if she survives?’”
His eyes filled.
“I hated myself the second I sent it.”
“Did that erase it?”
“No.”
“Did it put my skin back?”
“Maren.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
Dante stayed silent.
Evan’s voice cracked.
“Ryan said nobody would get hurt.”
“How does burning an apartment involve nobody getting hurt?”
“He said you’d be out.”
“Why?”
“To get you scared enough to sell the warehouse.”
Maren stared.
“He wanted to burn my home so I would sell property?”
“Insurance fraud was supposed to cover the loss.”
“And my death?”
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“You were trapped inside.”
Evan looked away.
Maren understood.
“You weren’t trapped.”
He didn’t answer.
“You made me believe you were trapped.”
“I was supposed to exit through the back stairwell.”
Her hand rose to her mouth.
“But I went back for you.”
“Yes.”
“You heard me calling.”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“And you let me come deeper into the building.”
“I was scared.”
“You let me walk into the fire.”
He started crying.
Not loudly.
That somehow made it worse.
“I’m sorry.”
Maren felt nothing.
No rage.
No grief.
Just emptiness.
“What happened to the insurance money?”
“Ryan said we needed capital to finish the Piermont deal.”
“We?”
“I thought if the deal succeeded, I could replace everything before you noticed.”
“You bought Celeste a condo.”
His face tightened.
“That was separate.”
“With my money?”
“Yes.”
Maren nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
He blinked.
“For what?”
“For making this easy.”
She turned.
“Maren.”
She stopped.
“Ryan attacked me tonight.”
She looked back.
“He knows you’re alive. He knows Dante is involved. He’s cleaning up.”
“Then tell the police everything.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“Maren, wait.”
She didn’t.
Outside the room, Ortiz looked at her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
It was the first time Maren had stopped pretending.
Ortiz nodded.
“Fair.”
Dante walked beside her toward the elevator.
“You don’t have to be strong every minute.”
“Please don’t.”
“What?”
“Say things that make me cry in public.”
He almost smiled.
The elevator opened.
A young man stood inside.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
He looked like Dante but younger.
His gaze landed on Maren.
“Dad.”
“Luca.”
Dante looked surprised.
“What are you doing here?”
Luca stepped out.
“Looking for you.”
He held a folder.
“I found something in the Keller files.”
Dante’s expression sharpened.
“What?”
Luca looked at Maren.
“This concerns her.”
They moved to an empty waiting area.
Luca opened the folder.
“I audited the companies buying land around Piermont.”
Maren frowned.
“You work with your father?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Luca smiled faintly.
“Sometimes.”
He handed Dante a document.
Dante read.
His face changed.
“What?” Maren asked.
Dante handed it to her.
It was a purchase agreement.
Her warehouse.
Seller: Maren Vale.
Buyer: Keller Urban Holdings.
Sale price: $1.2 million.
Her signature appeared at the bottom.
Maren stared.
“I never signed this.”
Luca nodded.
“We know.”
“How?”
“The notary listed on the agreement died two years before this document was supposedly executed.”
Maren sat back.
“When was the sale supposed to happen?”
“Next Monday.”
Her stomach dropped.
Five days.
“If they have a forged contract, can they take it?”
“Not now that we know.”
Dante flipped another page.
“What is this?”
Luca’s expression became serious.
“The interesting part.”
A corporate filing.
Keller Urban Holdings had recently added a new controlling investor.
Maren read the name.
Her blood chilled.
Celeste Rowan.
“That’s impossible.”
Dante looked toward Evan’s hospital room.
“Is it?”
Maren shook her head.
“She said she didn’t know.”
Luca tapped the page.
“She became an owner three months ago.”
“Maybe Evan used her name.”
“Possible.”
Then Maren remembered something.
Celeste crying in the hallway.
Celeste bringing back Evan’s phone.
Celeste appearing exactly when they needed evidence.
Was it guilt?
Or performance?
Dante closed the folder.
“We need to find her.”
Ortiz returned.
“You won’t have to.”
She looked grim.
“Celeste disappeared twenty minutes ago.”
Maren stood.
“How?”
“She left the station while officers were dealing with another arrest.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
Ortiz continued.
“But before she left, she made one phone call.”
“To who?”
Ortiz turned her phone around.
A number appeared on the screen.
Dante recognized it immediately.
His face went cold.
Maren looked at him.
“Whose number is that?”
Dante didn’t answer.
“Dante.”
He finally raised his eyes.
“My son’s.”
Everyone turned.
Luca stared at the number.
Then his own phone rang.
Unknown caller.
He answered.
“Hello?”
His expression changed.
A woman spoke faintly through the speaker.
Luca looked at Maren.
“It’s Celeste.”
Then a man’s voice replaced hers.
“Bring Maren Vale to Piermont Warehouse Eighty-Six by midnight.”
May you like
A pause.
“Or Celeste dies.”
