Chapter 2 - The Engagement Lie
Declan reached the door before it moved more than an inch.
His shoulder slammed against it.
The person outside resisted.
Mara backed toward the kitchen island, one hand over her stomach.
“Bedroom,” Declan ordered.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Mara.”
“No.”
The pressure against the door stopped.
Declan froze.
A small white envelope slid through the opening.
Then footsteps retreated.
Declan waited five seconds before opening the door.
The hallway was empty.
Two armed guards came running from the elevator.
Neither had seen anyone.
That should have been impossible.
Declan’s floor had private security.
Cameras covered both elevators.
The stairwell doors required encrypted access.
Yet somebody had reached his front door.
Declan picked up the envelope with a dish towel.
Mara watched him open it.
Inside was another ultrasound.
Not hers.
At least she didn’t think it was.
The image showed a much more developed baby.
Across the bottom someone had written:
ASK DECLAN ABOUT ELENA.
Mara looked up.
“Who is Elena?”
Declan went still.
That frightened her more than the threat.
“Who is she?”
“Someone who died.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“What does she have to do with my baby?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying again.”
“I’m not.”
“You recognized the name.”
“Of course I recognized it.”
“Then start talking.”
Declan looked at the security guards.
“Clear the floor.”
They obeyed.
Only after the door closed did he speak.
“Elena was my sister.”
Mara’s anger faltered.
Declan almost never talked about family.
His father was dead.
His mother lived somewhere on the East Coast under another name.
He had once mentioned a sister and immediately changed the subject.
“Elena was pregnant when she died,” he said.
Mara looked down at the ultrasound.
A terrible understanding began to form.
“How?”
“She was murdered.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“Because of you?”
Declan’s jaw tightened.
“Because of our family.”
Mara sat down.
Her legs suddenly felt unreliable.
Declan crouched several feet away rather than touching her.
“Elena fell in love with someone my father considered unacceptable. A man outside our organization. She got pregnant. My father believed the child would weaken the family.”
“What did he do?”
“I never proved it.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Declan looked at her.
“He ordered them killed.”
Mara covered her mouth.
“The baby too?”
“Yes.”
A long silence followed.
Declan looked older in that moment.
Not thirty-four.
Not powerful.
Just tired.
“I was twenty-six,” he continued. “I thought I understood how this world worked. Elena tried to leave Chicago. I helped her. Someone betrayed us.”
“And your father?”
“He denied everything until he died.”
Mara stared at the anonymous ultrasound.
“Now somebody thinks history is repeating.”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you got engaged?”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
Declan stood.
“There are three major organizations controlling most of the criminal money moving through Chicago. Mine. The Carusos. And the Serrano network.”
Mara had heard the names.
Everyone in certain neighborhoods had.
“The Serranos have been pushing for territory since my father died,” Declan said. “Six months ago they started quietly buying judges, detectives, port officials. Two weeks ago, someone tried to kill me.”
Mara’s head snapped up.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“That was intentional.”
“That seems to be your favorite word tonight.”
“Mara.”
“No, keep going.”
Declan exhaled.
“Four days ago, Salvatore Caruso came to me with evidence that someone had paid for your photograph, your address, and your daily schedule.”
Mara felt sick.
“Why would he help you?”
“Because Serrano wants both families weakened. Caruso proposed an alliance.”
“Through marriage.”
“Yes.”
“To Vivienne.”
“Yes.”
“And you agreed.”
“I agreed to announce it.”
Mara stood.
“Those are not different things to someone watching the news.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because I burned our child’s first picture tonight.”
Declan’s face tightened.
The words landed.
Good, Mara thought.
Let them.
“You should have told me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You chose not to.”
“If the people watching you saw even one change in your behavior, they would know.”
“So you humiliated me for operational security?”
“I kept you breathing.”
“Stop saying that like it forgives everything.”
“It doesn’t.”
That answer caught her off guard.
Declan stepped closer.
“I was wrong.”
She stared.
He continued.
“I thought keeping you ignorant made you safer. It didn’t. It made you alone.”
Mara looked away.
The apology did not erase the television screen.
But it mattered that he wasn’t pretending the pain had been necessary.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“You leave Chicago tonight.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“My doctor is here. My job is here. My life is here.”
“And someone knows you’re pregnant.”
“Then find them.”
His expression almost changed into a smile.
Almost.
“You say that like it’s easy.”
“You’re Declan Voss.”
“That reputation has apparently created unrealistic expectations.”
Despite herself, Mara nearly laughed.
The moment disappeared when his phone rang.
Vivienne Caruso.
Mara saw the name.
Declan answered.
“What?”
Vivienne’s voice came quickly through the speaker.
“The broadcast worked. Serrano’s people moved.”
“Where?”
“Your South Loop warehouse.”
“That’s a decoy.”
“I know. That’s why I’m calling.”
Declan’s expression darkened.
“What happened?”
“They didn’t search for weapons.”
“What did they search for?”
“Medical records.”
Mara’s fingers went cold.
Vivienne continued.
“Declan, someone on your side gave them Mara’s hospital information.”
Declan looked at Mara.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m looking at the surveillance footage now.”
“Send it.”
A video arrived.
Declan played it.
Three men entered the warehouse.
One carried a laptop.
Another opened a steel cabinet.
The third stood guard.
Mara recognized him.
She leaned closer.
“No.”
Declan paused the video.
“What?”
She pointed.
“I know him.”
The man was broad-shouldered, gray-haired, perhaps sixty.
She had seen him that afternoon.
“At the hospital,” she said.
Declan’s voice dropped.
“Where?”
“He was sitting near the elevators.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did he follow you?”
“I don’t know.”
Declan zoomed in.
His face changed.
“You know him too.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Thomas Rourke.”
“Who is Thomas Rourke?”
“My father’s former attorney.”
Mara stared.
“You said your father was dead.”
“He is.”
“Then why is his lawyer following me?”
Declan did not answer.
Vivienne spoke through the phone.
“Because Thomas disappeared the night Elena died.”
The room became silent.
Declan picked up the anonymous ultrasound.
Mara looked again at the words.
ASK DECLAN ABOUT ELENA.
“This isn’t Serrano,” Declan said.
“What?”
“The Serranos don’t know enough about Elena to use her.”
“Then who does?”
Declan’s phone chimed.
A second message.
This one contained an address.
No explanation.
No threat.
Just an address on North Ashland Avenue.
Mara recognized it immediately.
“That’s impossible.”
“What?”
She pointed at the screen.
“That was my apartment before I met you.”
Declan looked at her.
“I never told anyone in your organization about it.”
He opened the attached photograph.
Mara’s old building appeared on the screen.
One upstairs window was illuminated.
Inside the window stood a woman.
Dark hair.
Thin frame.
One hand resting on a visibly pregnant stomach.
Declan stopped breathing.
Mara looked at him.
“You know her.”
His voice was almost inaudible.
“Elena.”
Mara stared at the photograph of the sister Declan had buried eight years ago.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
SHE NEVER DIED.
