Chapter 6 - The Last Betrayal
“Dad.”
Harper’s voice stopped Daniel.
For one second.
That was enough.
Dante knocked the weapon from his hand.
Sebastian did not move.
“Explain.”
Daniel stared at the floor.
“I wasn’t going to shoot you.”
“You were pointing a loaded gun at my chest.”
“I needed you to listen.”
Harper’s anger exploded.
“You could have tried speaking. It’s extremely popular.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Diana is lying.”
“Why?”
“Because she helped Vittorio escape.”
Dante grabbed Daniel by the jacket.
“My mother spent years protecting evidence.”
“Your mother spent years protecting herself.”
Sebastian separated them.
“No more secrets.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“That would be nice.”
He explained.
After Evelyn’s death, Diana discovered Vittorio’s role.
But Diana had also participated in laundering money before she understood what Vittorio was building.
Exposure would destroy her.
So she helped Vittorio stage his death in exchange for his silence.
Later, she regretted it and began collecting evidence.
“She isn’t innocent,” Daniel said. “But she isn’t loyal to Vittorio either.”
Harper looked at the camera feed.
“Then why is she standing beside him?”
“Because Bianca is his hostage.”
Dante’s face tightened.
They drove to the farmhouse before dawn.
This time there would be no duplicate ledger.
No bargaining.
Harper had one advantage Vittorio did not know about.
Before leaving, she had found another message hidden in Evelyn’s letter.
Heat from a lamp revealed faded writing.
THE ORIGINALS ARE NOT IN THE SAFE.
They were somewhere Vittorio could never retrieve.
Harper had figured out where.
Madame Celeste’s boutique.
Her mother had known Celeste.
The old designer had not randomly given Harper the crimson gown.
She had recognized her.
Celeste had been waiting for Harper for years.
The garment bag that held Bianca’s engagement gown had a false bottom.
Inside were Evelyn’s original records.
Harper had unknowingly carried the evidence through Chicago herself.
“The dress lives,” she had joked.
So did the truth.
Dante sent copies to three attorneys, two journalists and a federal prosecutor with instructions to release everything if they did not return.
For once, secrets had insurance.
At the farmhouse, Vittorio waited.
Bianca sat in a chair.
Diana stood nearby.
Lorenzo arrived moments later with armed men.
Vittorio frowned.
“You invited him?”
Harper smiled.
“No.”
Bianca did.
Lorenzo demanded his daughter.
Vittorio demanded the evidence.
Diana demanded immunity.
Everyone wanted something.
Sebastian looked at Harper.
She understood.
They wanted each other alive.
That was enough.
Harper stepped forward.
“The records have already been copied.”
Vittorio’s expression changed.
“You’re lying.”
“My mother taught me not to.”
“You barely remember her.”
“No.”
Harper looked at Diana.
“But apparently she remembered me.”
Diana’s eyes filled.
“She did.”
Vittorio turned toward Diana.
That moment broke everything.
Bianca moved.
She slammed her chair backward into Vittorio.
Dante rushed forward.
Lorenzo’s men raised their weapons.
Sebastian pulled Harper down.
Diana grabbed Vittorio’s gun.
A shot fired.
Lorenzo staggered.
Bianca screamed.
Her father fell.
Alive, but wounded.
Dante disarmed Vittorio.
Sebastian stood over his father.
Vittorio looked up.
“You won’t kill me.”
Sebastian’s face was unreadable.
“Why?”
“Because you’re my son.”
Sebastian glanced at Harper.
Then back at Vittorio.
“No.”
Vittorio frowned.
Sebastian lowered his weapon.
“That is exactly why I won’t.”
Police sirens approached.
Federal vehicles followed.
Vittorio finally understood.
Sebastian had not come to execute him.
He had come to end him.
Legally.
Publicly.
Permanently.
Lorenzo survived.
He was arrested beside Vittorio.
Diana surrendered.
She provided testimony in exchange for consideration of her cooperation.
Bianca stood alone on the porch watching her father disappear into an ambulance under guard.
Harper approached.
“I’m sorry.”
Bianca wiped her face.
“Don’t be.”
“He’s still your father.”
“That doesn’t make what he did love.”
Harper understood that better than she wanted to.
Daniel stood several feet away.
He had lied.
Abandoned her.
Protected her.
Failed her.
Loved her.
Human beings were inconveniently capable of doing all those things at once.
Harper walked toward him.
“I can’t forgive twelve years today.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want another funeral for someone who’s alive.”
Daniel cried.
Harper hugged him.
Not because everything was fixed.
Because maybe something could be.
Three weeks later, Chicago was still dealing with the fallout.
Several Commission members resigned or disappeared.
Businesses were investigated.
Sebastian began restructuring everything his father had built.
Legal companies stayed.
Criminal operations closed or were transferred away from him.
It was not clean.
Nothing inherited from Vittorio could be cleaned overnight.
But Sebastian had made a decision.
He did not want his father’s throne.
He wanted his own life.
Harper returned to work.
For approximately four hours.
Then Sebastian entered her office.
“You’re fired.”
She looked up.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re fired.”
“Do you understand how much information I possess?”
“Yes.”
“I know your passwords.”
“I changed them.”
“I know what you changed them to.”
Sebastian sighed.
“That is why you cannot remain my assistant.”
Harper stood.
“You had better have an extraordinary explanation.”
“I do.”
He placed an envelope on her desk.
Harper opened it.
Inside were incorporation papers.
EVANS-VALERIO FOUNDATION.
She stared.
“What is this?”
“Your mother wanted financial evidence used to repair some of the damage the organizations caused.”
Harper looked up.
“I’m making restitution funds available.”
“You?”
“We.”
She stared at him.
“Are you offering me a job?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Half.”
Her eyes widened.
“Half of what?”
“The foundation.”
“Sebastian.”
“You wanted work that mattered before you almost resigned.”
He remembered.
Of course he remembered.
“You recovered my resignation letter from the trash.”
“Yes.”
“Still creepy.”
“I know.”
Harper smiled.
Then she saw another envelope.
“What is that?”
For the first time, Sebastian Valerio looked nervous.
Actually nervous.
Harper’s heart began pounding.
He took the envelope before she could reach it.
“Not yet.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“You are terrible at lying.”
“I learned from your father.”
“Too soon.”
“Fair.”
She chased him around the desk.
Sebastian laughed.
The sound startled both of them.
Harper stopped.
She had never heard him laugh like that.
Free.
Young.
Happy.
She kissed him.
A month later, Madame Celeste reopened her boutique.
The shattered windows had been replaced.
Harper visited alone.
Celeste greeted her with champagne.
“You knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“I promised Evelyn I would wait until the key returned.”
Harper touched the key around her neck.
“Why the crimson gown?”
Celeste smiled.
“Because your mother commissioned it.”
Harper froze.
“What?”
“She never wore it. She told me someday you might need to see yourself properly.”
Harper’s eyes filled.
The opera singer story had been invented.
“Why tell me it belonged to someone else?”
“Because you would never have accepted it if I told you it was yours.”
That was annoyingly accurate.
Celeste led Harper toward the fitting room.
“There is something else.”
Inside hung the crimson dress.
Beside it was another garment bag.
Harper looked at Celeste.
“No.”
Celeste smiled.
“I said nothing.”
Harper opened it.
An ivory wedding gown waited inside.
Her heart stopped.
“No.”
This time Celeste laughed.
“He has good taste.”
Harper turned.
“Sebastian?”
“He asked me to make it.”
“When?”
“The morning after the farmhouse.”
Harper stared at the gown.
“That arrogant—”
The boutique doors opened.
Sebastian entered.
Harper marched toward him.
“You ordered a wedding dress?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t proposed.”
“I’m aware.”
“That sequence is generally reversed.”
“I was busy.”
“For a month?”
“I wanted it ready.”
“For what?”
Sebastian reached into his pocket.
Harper stopped breathing.
He did not kneel.
Not yet.
Instead, he held out the envelope she had seen on her desk.
She opened it.
Inside was a single handwritten page.
Fourteen names were crossed out.
Bianca’s was crossed out too.
At the bottom was Harper Evans.
Not crossed out.
Beside it Sebastian had written:
Not a candidate.
The only choice.
Harper looked up.
His eyes were softer than she had ever seen them.
Then the boutique doors opened behind him.
Dante entered quickly.
Sebastian turned.
“What?”
Dante held a phone.
His expression erased every trace of celebration.
“We have a problem.”
Harper’s stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
Dante looked at her.
“The federal prosecutor opened one final file from your mother.”
“And?”
“There was another name in it.”
Sebastian went still.
“Whose?”
Dante placed the phone on the counter.
A photograph appeared.
Harper recognized the person instantly.
She looked at Sebastian.
He looked back at her.
May you like
Then Madame Celeste whispered the name.
And Harper realized the war had never been about Sebastian’s father at all.
