Chapter 3 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Damian fired first.
The traitor dropped.
Marco rushed through the rear entrance seconds later.
“Boss!”
“Lock it down.”
Hazel stood frozen.
Wyatt grabbed her wrist.
“Listen to me.”
She jerked away.
“No.”
“You need to.”
“You had six months.”
“I was trying to keep them from finding you.”
“They found me anyway.”
“Because someone inside Romano’s organization gave you up.”
Damian looked toward the dead attacker.
Wyatt was right.
The badge was authentic.
Someone inside the estate had helped Sullivan.
Wyatt explained what he could.
Sarah Brooks had hidden an archive before Hazel was born.
Sullivan believed the bracelet contained part of the access key.
But the bracelet alone wasn't enough.
Hazel herself was necessary.
“Biometric?” Marco asked.
Wyatt shook his head.
“Personal knowledge.”
“What knowledge?”
“I don't know.”
Hazel laughed bitterly.
“Wonderful. I'm the key to something I don't know exists.”
Wyatt reached for her.
She stepped back.
Damian moved between them without thinking.
Wyatt noticed.
“So the rumors were wrong.”
Damian’s eyes hardened.
“What rumors?”
“That you died with Elena.”
Silence.
Hazel looked at Damian.
Wyatt had struck somewhere painful.
Damian didn't react outwardly.
But Hazel saw his hand tighten.
“Finish talking.”
Wyatt told them Sullivan had kept him alive because he had worked for Sarah’s former attorney.
He had discovered Hazel accidentally.
Then he fell in love with her.
Hazel wanted to believe that part.
She hated herself for wanting it.
“Why forge the debt?”
“I didn't.”
“Who did?”
“I think Sullivan’s daughter.”
Damian looked up.
“Catherine?”
Wyatt nodded.
That name changed the room.
Catherine Sullivan was supposedly estranged from her father.
Apparently not.
Damian ordered Wyatt transported to a secure location.
Hazel rode back beside Damian.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
Finally she asked, “Do you believe him?”
“Parts.”
“Which parts?”
“The dangerous ones.”
Back at the estate, Damian increased security.
Every employee was questioned.
Hazel hated knowing that people might lose jobs because of her.
Damian found her standing alone in the kitchen.
“You're doing it again.”
“What?”
“Taking responsibility for other people’s choices.”
She looked at him.
“You barely know me.”
“I pay attention.”
That affected her more than she wanted.
Nobody had paid attention to Hazel in years.
People saw her uniform.
Her body.
Her quietness.
They rarely saw her.
Damian did.
She looked away.
“You should rest.”
“So should you.”
“I don't sleep much.”
“Neither do I.”
“That isn't something to compete over.”
She smiled.
Damian stared.
Hazel’s smile disappeared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
But it wasn't nothing.
He had forgotten what it felt like to want to see a woman smile again.
That night, Hazel was moved to a guest suite near Damian’s rooms.
At midnight, someone slipped an envelope beneath her door.
No footsteps.
No voice.
Inside was a photograph.
Elena Romano.
Damian’s dead fiancée.
Hazel turned it over.
Three words had been written there.
ASK WHO DROVE.
Hazel stared at them.
Then someone knocked.
“Hazel?”
Damian.
She opened the door.
He saw the photograph.
Every trace of warmth disappeared from his face.
“Where did you get that?”
“Under the door.”
Damian took it.
His eyes fixed on Elena’s face.
“Who drove?” Hazel asked.
He didn't answer.
“Damian.”
He looked at the message.
“Elena did.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
But his voice had changed.
Hazel noticed.
“You're lying.”
Damian looked at her.
Nobody accused him of lying.
Hazel apparently did.
“Why?”
He exhaled.
“I drove.”
Her eyes widened.
“I got out of the car ten minutes before the explosion.”
“Why?”
“We argued.”
“About what?”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“She said someone close to me was betraying us.”
“Who?”
“She never told me.”
Hazel looked again at the photograph.
“Maybe this is connected.”
“To your mother?”
“To everything.”
Damian didn't dismiss it.
That frightened her.
Marco arrived with security footage.
Someone had approached Hazel’s corridor.
The camera image was grainy.
But the figure was female.
She wore a housekeeping uniform.
Hazel leaned closer.
“I know her.”
“Who?”
“Marianne.”
An older maid.
She had worked at the estate for twelve years.
Damian ordered her brought upstairs.
Security searched.
Marianne was gone.
Her room was empty.
Except for one object.
A framed photograph.
Damian lifted it.
Marianne stood beside Sarah Brooks.
Hazel’s mother.
The picture had been taken twenty-five years earlier.
Hazel touched the glass.
“My mother knew her.”
Behind the photograph was a handwritten note.
Damian unfolded it.
If Hazel ever comes to this house, Elena was right.
Damian read the sentence twice.
“Elena?”
Hazel whispered.
Damian turned the paper over.
There was an address.
Marco entered suddenly.
“We found Marianne.”
“Where?”
“Security camera at the east gate.”
“When?”
“Three minutes ago.”
“Bring her back.”
Marco didn't move.
“She wasn't leaving.”
Damian frowned.
“She was letting someone in.”
The estate alarm screamed.
Then every light in the room went black.
From the hallway came Marianne’s terrified voice.
“Damian, don't shoot! You need to see who I brought!”
A second voice answered from the darkness.
A man’s voice Damian had heard only once before.
May you like
At Elena’s funeral.
And the locked door began opening.
