Chapter 3 - The Name Behind the Scar
Thomas Vale stepped out of the elevator as if he belonged there.
Vincent moved between him and Elena.
Vale noticed.
His smile deepened.
“Interesting.”
Vincent’s voice was cold.
“You have three seconds to explain why you know her name.”
Vale looked at Elena.
“Your hospital badge is visible.”
Elena looked down.
It was.
Vincent did not relax.
Vale raised both hands.
“I came to talk.”
“You had eleven years.”
“I didn’t think you were ready.”
Vincent almost laughed.
“Ready?”
Claire stepped forward.
“You buried Evelyn’s evidence.”
Vale looked at her.
“Hello, Claire.”
“Don’t.”
“You still blame me.”
“I have bank records.”
Vale’s expression changed slightly.
Vincent saw it.
“What records?”
Claire lifted the envelope.
“Payments from Dominic.”
Vale sighed.
“You really shouldn’t carry those around.”
Marco moved closer.
Vincent’s voice went quiet.
“That sounded like a threat.”
“It was advice.”
“You’re standing in a hospital surrounded by my men.”
Vale glanced toward the hall.
“No.”
Vincent frowned.
Vale nodded toward the elevator.
“You’re standing in a hospital surrounded by men wearing your colors. That’s not the same thing.”
Marco’s face changed.
He pulled out his phone.
No signal.
Elena felt the air shift.
Vincent looked toward the hallway.
Two security guards were missing.
The desk at the far end was empty.
Vale smiled without warmth.
“You inherited your father’s empire, Vincent. You also inherited his mistakes.”
“Get to the point.”
Vale’s eyes moved to the old watch.
“Evelyn knew too much.”
Vincent crossed the space between them.
Elena caught his arm.
He stopped.
Not because Vale frightened him.
Because she had touched him.
Vale’s eyebrows lifted.
“There it is.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
“The weakness.”
Elena felt Vincent tense.
He gently removed her hand.
Then he looked at Vale.
“You’re wrong.”
Vale smiled.
“We’ll see.”
Vincent punched him.
Once.
Controlled.
Vale fell against the wall.
Elena recoiled.
Marco grabbed Vincent’s shoulder on instinct.
Vincent spun.
Marco immediately released him.
Vincent breathed hard.
Not from the punch.
From the touch.
Elena saw the difference.
Vale wiped blood from his lip.
“Still the same.”
Vincent stared down at him.
“No. I’m not.”
Vale laughed.
“Your mother said that too.”
Vincent froze.
“Say her name again.”
“Evelyn.”
Vincent stepped forward.
Elena moved between them.
“Enough.”
Vale looked at her.
“You should leave Chicago.”
Vincent’s expression sharpened.
Elena said, “Why?”
Vale smiled.
“Because he doesn’t know what happens to people who get close to him.”
Vincent’s face emptied.
That hit.
Elena knew it.
Vale knew it too.
Then the elevator doors opened again.
Hospital security flooded the corridor.
Real security this time.
Marco looked surprised.
A nurse from downstairs shouted, “Police are on the way.”
Vale straightened his jacket.
“Good.”
Vincent stared at him.
“You wanted witnesses.”
“I want you alive.”
“That would be a first.”
Vale walked back toward the elevator.
Before entering, he turned.
“Go to Mercer Street.”
Vincent said nothing.
Vale continued.
“Ask Eddie what’s behind the basement wall.”
Claire’s face went pale.
Vale noticed.
“Ah.”
His smile vanished.
“She knows.”
The doors closed.
Vincent turned to Claire.
“What is behind the wall?”
Claire looked sick.
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I swear.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“You knew about Vale.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Eddie was there.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the payments.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“Enough to know your mother was terrified.”
Vincent looked away.
Elena saw his hand tremble.
Only once.
Then it stopped.
An hour later, after a heated argument with three doctors, Vincent signed himself out against medical advice.
Elena did not approve.
She told him so seventeen times.
He ignored sixteen.
On the seventeenth, he said, “You’re coming, aren’t you?”
She stared at him.
“Yes.”
“Then you can complain in the car.”
The Mercer convoy moved south through Chicago shortly before three in the morning.
Elena sat beside Vincent in the back of a black SUV.
Marco drove.
Claire followed in another vehicle.
Vincent stared out the window.
Elena watched him.
“You regret bringing me.”
“No.”
“That was quick.”
“I regret involving you.”
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
She folded her arms.
“Then stop making decisions for me.”
He looked at her.
“You don’t understand my world.”
“You don’t understand mine.”
“You work in a hospital.”
“Exactly. People lie there too. People threaten. People panic. Families hide things. Powerful men think money changes biology.”
His mouth moved slightly.
“Does it?”
“No. Your ribs still don’t care who you are.”
He looked back outside.
After a moment he said, “You should be afraid.”
“Of you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
His answer came instantly.
“No.”
“Then I’m more afraid of your infection risk.”
He actually smiled.
The childhood home stood behind iron gates on Mercer Street.
Three stories.
Red brick.
Dark windows.
Vincent did not move when the car stopped.
Elena looked at him.
His breathing changed.
“Eleven years?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You haven’t been inside?”
“No.”
“Since your mother died?”
He nodded.
Marco opened the door.
Vincent remained seated.
Elena reached for his hand.
Then stopped before touching him.
He looked at her.
She held her palm open.
His choice.
Vincent placed his hand in hers.
He stepped out.
The house smelled of dust and furniture polish.
Somebody had maintained it.
Nobody had lived there.
Portraits still hung on the walls.
Evelyn Mercer smiled from one of them.
She was beautiful.
Dark hair.
Warm eyes.
Vincent’s jaw tightened when he saw her.
“Boss,” Marco said.
Vincent released Elena’s hand.
“Where’s Eddie?”
“Basement.”
They crossed the hallway.
Vincent stopped beside a staircase.
Elena saw a faint stain on the wood floor.
Old.
Almost invisible.
He stared at it.
“My mother fell there.”
Elena said nothing.
Vincent touched the silver watch.
Then moved on.
The basement door was locked.
Marco broke it open.
They descended.
Eddie Russo sat tied to a chair.
Another Mercer man stood nearby.
Eddie was in his sixties.
His face was bruised.
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“Who hit him?”
The guard answered.
“He ran.”
“I asked who hit him.”
“I did.”
“Leave.”
The man blinked.
“Boss?”
“Now.”
He left.
Elena looked at Vincent differently.
He noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“I thought you’d encourage that.”
“I’m not my father.”
Eddie laughed bitterly.
“No.”
Vincent turned.
“You knew him.”
Eddie looked up.
“I knew all of you.”
“Tell me who killed my mother.”
Eddie’s face tightened.
“I didn’t.”
“I didn’t ask if you did.”
“You think I came here because I wanted to?”
“Why are you here?”
Eddie looked toward the far wall.
“Because she told me where to go if the truth ever came back.”
“Who?”
“Evelyn.”
Vincent went still.
“My mother sent you here?”
“Before she died.”
Eddie nodded toward the wall.
“She said if anything happened, the answer would be behind it.”
Vincent looked at Marco.
Marco approached the paneling.
He knocked.
Solid.
Then moved two feet left.
Knocked again.
Hollow.
Elena felt goosebumps rise across her arms.
Marco found a seam.
A hidden door.
Behind it was a narrow storage space.
Dusty boxes.
Old ledgers.
A tape recorder.
And one small wooden chest.
Vincent stepped inside alone.
Elena waited outside.
He opened the chest.
On top lay a photograph.
Vincent picked it up.
Elena saw his face change.
He stumbled backward.
She rushed toward him.
He did not stop her when she caught his arm.
“What is it?”
He handed her the photograph.
It showed Evelyn Mercer.
Dominic Mercer.
Thomas Vale.
And a fourth person.
A woman.
Much younger than Elena remembered.
But unmistakable.
Claire Donovan.
All four stood together outside the Mercer house.
On the back, Evelyn had written one line.
THE ONE WHO BETRAYED ME IS IN THIS PICTURE.
Vincent looked toward the basement stairs.
Claire had just appeared at the top.
She saw the photograph in Elena’s hand.
Her face collapsed.
Vincent’s voice became a whisper.
“Which one?”
Claire took one step down.
May you like
Then another.
And before she could answer, a gunshot exploded somewhere upstairs.
