Chapter 6 - The Night Emma Disappeared
Michael had been declared dead after a boating accident on Lake Michigan.
No body was recovered.
Only wreckage.
At the time, I had grieved him.
Then work swallowed grief.
That was what work had always done for men in my family.
We buried feeling beneath responsibility until we forgot the difference.
Now his face stared at me from Marcus’s phone.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
Emma sat across from me.
Daniel stood near the fireplace.
Marcus locked the library doors.
“My brother ordered the shooting?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I never found Michael.”
“You knew he might be alive?”
“I suspected.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I had nothing.”
“That’s becoming your favorite excuse.”
Emma looked between us.
“Why would Michael want you dead?”
I answered automatically.
“Control.”
But even as I said it, I knew it was too simple.
Michael had never wanted my position.
He hated our father’s business.
Wanted distance.
At least, that was what I believed.
Marcus opened the trust records.
“Payments began four months before his supposed death.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“He staged it.”
“Why?”
Nobody answered.
My phone rang.
Unknown.
I answered.
Michael’s voice.
“Little brother.”
My throat closed.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He laughed softly.
“Still asking the wrong questions.”
“Did you order the shooting?”
“No.”
“Your money paid for it.”
“My trust paid for many things after Anthony stole access.”
I looked at Anthony’s records.
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
“Come inside.”
“No.”
“Afraid?”
“Of you?”
A pause.
“Never.”
That hurt more than it should have.
Michael continued.
“I disappeared because I discovered what our father built was worse than either of us understood. Anthony helped move money. I planned to expose him.”
“Then why fake your death?”
“Because he threatened my family.”
“You didn’t have a family.”
Silence.
Then Michael said, “That is what I needed everyone to believe.”
Another secret.
Another life hidden because men like us believed secrecy was protection.
“Where are they?”
“Safe.”
“Then come in.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Anthony wasn’t the highest person in the chain.”
I looked at Daniel.
He heard.
“Who?”
Michael said a name.
“Senator Charles Weller.”
My stomach dropped.
Weller had attended my charity dinner the night I was shot.
He had visited me in the hospital.
He had publicly condemned organized crime while privately accepting construction money through intermediaries.
Anthony had protected him.
Daniel swore.
Michael continued.
“Weller believes the drive Emma carried can destroy him.”
“She doesn’t have it.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
Emma leaned closer.
“Tell him I’m here.”
I put the phone on speaker.
“I’m here,” she said.
Michael went silent.
Then, “Emma Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“You need to leave Vincent’s house.”
“No.”
“He cannot protect you.”
Emma looked at me.
“He already did.”
Something moved in my chest.
Michael sighed.
“You sound exactly like Daniel.”
Emma’s face hardened.
“That isn’t a compliment right now.”
Daniel looked away.
Michael almost laughed.
Then his voice changed.
“Vincent, there’s someone inside your estate feeding Weller information.”
Marcus looked at the door.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Helpful.”
“But they know where Emma sleeps.”
Silence.
I turned toward her.
She went pale.
“Move her now,” Michael said.
The line went dead.
Marcus opened the door.
Then the estate alarm sounded.
Not the main alarm.
Fire.
Smoke appeared beneath the corridor doors.
“East wing,” Marcus said.
Emma’s room.
We moved.
Security ran through halls.
Sprinklers activated.
Smoke thickened.
Someone shouted that the fire had started in a linen closet.
A distraction.
I knew it before Marcus said it.
“Emma.”
I turned.
She was behind us—
No.
She wasn’t.
“Where is she?”
Daniel looked back.
“She was right there.”
I shouted her name.
No answer.
Marcus ran toward the service corridor.
I drove the wheelchair after him.
The motorized chair was fast.
Not fast enough.
We reached the kitchen.
Empty.
Back hallway.
Empty.
Service entrance.
Open.
Cold air blew inside.
One security guard lay unconscious.
Alive.
No Emma.
My entire body went cold.
Not again.
I had promised nothing to her.
But somewhere between her telling me she needed a paycheck and placing her hand over mine in that armored car, a promise had formed anyway.
Marcus checked the guard.
“Pulse.”
Daniel found something on the floor.
Emma’s maid badge.
She had kept it.
Even after quitting.
On the back, someone had written three words.
COME ALONE, VINCENT.
Beneath it was an address.
The old Romano textile mill.
My father’s first legitimate business.
Abandoned for fifteen years.
Daniel read it.
“It’s a trap.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going.”
“Yes.”
“Vincent.”
“They want me.”
“They want all of us.”
“No. They wrote my name.”
Marcus said, “Federal team.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever is inside this house will warn them.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“You can’t go alone.”
I looked at him.
“I spent two years thinking this chair meant I couldn’t do anything without other people.”
“This is not about pride.”
“No.”
I looked at Emma’s badge.
“For once, it isn’t.”
Marcus prepared a vehicle.
I made one concession.
A tracker.
No visible escort.
I arrived at the mill just before dawn.
The building loomed beside the river.
Broken windows.
Rust.
Memories.
My father had taken Michael and me there as boys.
Told us the Romano name would someday mean something.
He never specified what.
The front door stood open.
I rolled inside.
“Emma!”
My voice echoed.
Nothing.
Then a light came on.
Emma sat in a chair at the far end.
Hands bound.
Alive.
Beside her stood Senator Weller.
Sixty-two.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
The kind of face voters trusted because television had taught them to.
He held no weapon.
Two men behind him did.
“You came,” Emma said.
“Of course.”
Weller smiled.
“Romantic.”
“Let her go.”
“You know what I want.”
“The drive.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Then Daniel does.”
“Maybe.”
Weller looked at Emma.
“She’s remarkably calm.”
Emma said, “I’ve worked for worse.”
I almost smiled.
Weller did not.
He stepped closer to me.
“You ruined everything by surviving.”
There it was.
Not Anthony.
Not Michael.
Weller.
“You ordered the shot.”
“Anthony arranged it.”
“Why?”
“You wanted to legitimize your companies.”
“You shot me because I wanted legal businesses?”
“Because legal books are audited.”
He smiled.
“And audits uncover politicians.”
I understood.
My attempt to leave the criminal world threatened men who needed it hidden.
Weller reached behind Emma’s chair.
A gun appeared in his hand.
My body went still.
“Where is the drive?”
“I told you.”
“Then she dies.”
Emma looked at me.
Not terrified.
Trusting.
That was worse.
I heard a sound behind the wall.
Tiny.
Metal.
Marcus.
Maybe.
Or Daniel.
Weller heard it too.
He turned.
I moved.
Not my legs.
My chair.
Full speed.
The wheelchair slammed into Weller’s knees.
He fell.
The gun fired.
Agents burst through both entrances.
Marcus tackled one guard.
Daniel struck the other.
Emma’s chair tipped sideways.
I reached for her.
Everything became noise.
Then silence.
Weller lay cuffed.
Emma was safe.
Agent Sloan emerged from the shadows.
She looked at me.
“You are terrible at following instructions.”
“You followed me.”
“Obviously.”
Daniel untied Emma.
She stood.
Then she walked straight past him.
Straight toward me.
She dropped to her knees.
Her arms wrapped around my shoulders.
I froze.
For two years, people had touched me only to move me.
Lift me.
Examine me.
Help me.
Emma simply held me.
I put my arms around her.
Her body shook.
Mine did too.
“I thought he shot you,” she whispered.
“He missed.”
“Again.”
I laughed against her hair.
Then Daniel suddenly looked toward the upper walkway.
His face changed.
“Vincent.”
I followed his gaze.
A man stood in the shadows.
Michael.
My brother.
Alive.
He lifted one hand.
Then another figure stepped beside him.
Mrs. Caldwell.
May you like
She was holding a gun.
And it was pointed at Michael’s chest.
