Chapter 4 - The Door That Wouldn’t Open
Vincent hit the door hard enough to shake the frame.
“Clara!”
No answer.
Security rushed toward him.
One guard tried the electronic override.
Nothing.
“Power is cut.”
“Break it.”
They drove a shoulder into the door.
Once.
Twice.
On the third strike, it opened.
Vincent entered first.
Clara was on the floor behind the table.
Alive.
Adrian was crouched beside her.
Blood ran down his upper arm.
A bullet had shattered the window behind them.
Clara looked at Vincent.
“I’m okay.”
He crossed the room in two strides.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“The baby?”
“I don’t know.”
That was enough.
Vincent turned.
“Car. Hospital. Now.”
Clara grabbed his sleeve.
“Adrian.”
Vincent looked down at him.
Adrian was pale.
The bullet had grazed his arm.
Not fatal.
Vincent’s sympathy was limited.
But Clara was looking at him.
“Take him too.”
Vincent gave the order.
Minutes later, two vehicles left the building through a service garage.
Vincent rode with Clara.
She sat beside him in the back seat, wrapped in his coat.
Her hand rested over her stomach.
“You’re shaking.”
“So are you.”
“I’m angry.”
“I’m terrified.”
Vincent looked at her.
Her honesty disarmed him.
He had known Clara as efficient.
Organized.
Careful.
Tonight he was seeing the person beneath all of that.
The woman who had been betrayed and still found enough courage to confront the man who betrayed her.
The woman carrying a child while a city called her a liar.
“You’re going to be okay.”
She looked at him.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
He paused.
“But I’m going to keep saying it until someone with a medical degree tells me the same thing.”
A tiny laugh escaped her.
Then tears.
Vincent looked away to give her privacy.
She noticed.
That almost made her cry harder.
At the hospital, doctors took Clara immediately.
Vincent waited outside.
So did Elena.
Adrian was treated in another part of the hospital under police supervision.
Vincent paced.
Elena watched him.
“You care about her.”
Vincent stopped.
“She works for me.”
Elena raised an eyebrow.
Vincent resumed pacing.
“She’s been loyal.”
“That’s not what I said.”
He looked at her.
“I don’t discuss my employees with strangers.”
Elena smiled faintly.
“You’re bad at pretending.”
Vincent ignored her.
Forty-five minutes later, a doctor appeared.
Vincent stood immediately.
“Ms. Hayes is stable. The baby appears healthy.”
His shoulders lowered by perhaps half an inch.
The doctor continued.
“Stress is the bigger concern. She needs rest.”
Vincent nodded.
“Can I see her?”
The doctor looked at him.
“Family?”
“No.”
“Partner?”
Vincent paused.
Before he could answer, Clara’s voice came from inside.
“Let him in.”
Vincent entered.
Clara sat upright in the bed.
Color had returned slightly to her face.
He stood awkwardly near the door.
She looked at him.
“You can sit.”
He did.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Clara said, “I heard the heartbeat.”
Vincent looked at her.
“The baby?”
She nodded.
Her eyes filled.
“It was fast.”
He smiled.
Barely.
“That’s good.”
“Yes.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I thought I’d lost everything tonight.”
“You didn’t.”
“My reputation is gone.”
“Temporary.”
“My job is impossible.”
“We’ll fix it.”
“The father of my child is under guard.”
Vincent had no immediate solution for that.
Clara continued.
“And someone just tried to shoot me through a window.”
He leaned forward.
“That part ends tonight.”
“How?”
“We find Kessler.”
“And then?”
“We prove what he did.”
Clara studied him.
“No revenge?”
Vincent looked almost offended.
“You think I’m that predictable?”
“Yes.”
He almost smiled.
She did too.
Then her expression became serious.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“Adrian saved me.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“He pulled me down before the glass broke.”
“I know.”
“He got hit because he moved me.”
“I know.”
“That matters.”
“It does.”
“But?”
“But it doesn’t erase what he did.”
Clara nodded.
“I know.”
Silence settled between them.
Then Vincent said something she did not expect.
“You don’t have to decide what Adrian means to you tonight.”
She looked up.
“You don’t have to forgive him.”
He paused.
“And you don’t have to hate him every second either.”
Clara stared at him.
That was not the advice she expected from Vincent Moretti.
He looked toward the window.
“People aren’t always one thing.”
“Is that how you excuse yourself?”
His eyes returned to hers.
“Sometimes.”
She appreciated the honesty.
The door opened.
Elena entered.
“We found the shooter’s route.”
Vincent stood.
“Who?”
“Unknown. But the vehicle connects to Kessler Security Group.”
Clara looked at Vincent.
Elena continued.
“And Adrian wants to talk.”
Vincent said, “He’s talked enough.”
“He says he knows where Kessler keeps the original conspiracy records.”
Clara sat straighter.
“Where?”
“A private club on Wabash.”
Vincent knew it.
The Halcyon Club.
Old money.
Politicians.
Developers.
Executives.
Kessler had practically lived there.
Elena looked at Clara.
“Adrian claims Kessler keeps physical records because he doesn’t trust cloud storage.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“Convenient.”
“He gave us a safe number.”
Clara asked, “Why now?”
“Because Kessler tried to kill you.”
Vincent looked toward the hall.
“And Adrian finally discovered there are consequences bigger than revenge.”
Elena said they would move on the location before sunrise.
Vincent insisted Clara remain at the hospital.
She objected.
He won.
Barely.
At 4:10 a.m., Vincent left with Elena and investigators.
The Halcyon Club was quiet.
Police waited nearby.
Elena entered with a warrant obtained from the emergency evidence.
Vincent remained technically outside the search.
He did not enjoy that.
Thirty minutes later, Elena called him inside.
They had found the safe.
Inside were financial records.
Phones.
USB drives.
Board agreements.
Blackmail files.
Photographs.
Enough evidence to dismantle the network.
Then Elena found one document that changed everything.
A shareholder agreement.
Signed by three members of Vincent’s board.
One signature made Vincent go completely still.
Dominic Moretti.
His uncle.
The man who had raised him after his father died.
Vincent stared at the page.
Elena watched him.
“You know him.”
Vincent folded the paper once.
“Yes.”
“What does this mean?”
“It means Kessler didn’t get inside my company.”
Vincent’s voice went flat.
“He was invited.”
Back at the hospital, Clara slept for perhaps an hour.
At 5:30, she woke to her phone vibrating.
A blocked number.
She almost ignored it.
Then she answered.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice spoke.
Adrian.
“Clara.”
Her heart jumped.
“How are you calling me?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You’re under guard.”
“Listen.”
His voice was urgent.
“Kessler isn’t the real danger.”
“What?”
“He didn’t build this alone.”
“I know. Vincent found board agreements.”
“No.”
Adrian breathed hard.
“You don’t understand.”
Clara sat upright.
“What am I supposed to understand?”
“The Moretti family connection wasn’t my discovery.”
Her skin went cold.
“Then whose?”
Adrian hesitated.
“Vincent’s uncle found me.”
Clara said nothing.
“He recruited me.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Before you met me?”
“Yes.”
Clara’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Dominic told you to use me?”
“No.”
“That part was mine.”
“At least you’re consistent.”
“Clara.”
“What?”
“Dominic knows you’re pregnant.”
She froze.
“So does half the city.”
“No.”
Adrian’s voice dropped.
“He knew before the release.”
Clara stared at the dark hospital window.
“How?”
“I told him.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because he asked whether you were becoming a liability.”
Clara whispered, “What did you say?”
“I said no.”
“And what did he say?”
Adrian went silent.
“Adrian.”
“He said the baby changed the timetable.”
Clara’s blood ran cold.
“What timetable?”
Before he could answer, her hospital-room door opened.
A nurse stepped in.
Behind the nurse stood an older man in a dark overcoat.
Silver hair.
Warm smile.
Dominic Moretti.
May you like
He looked directly at Clara.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
