Chapter 4 - The Price of an Heir
The first bullet came through the bedroom wall.
Declan shoved Mara to the floor.
“Stay down.”
His men returned fire.
Elena crawled toward the closet and pulled open a hidden panel.
“There’s a rear staircase.”
“You planned for this?” Declan shouted.
“I’ve spent eight years planning for this.”
They moved.
Mara hated being pulled through darkness.
She hated the gunfire.
She hated the instinct that kept dragging both hands toward her stomach whenever something exploded nearby.
But most of all she hated that the baby had become an object in someone else’s war before it was even large enough to have fingers she could see.
They escaped into an alley.
A car waited.
Elena had arranged it.
Declan looked furious.
“You knew they might attack.”
“I knew they were tracking me.”
“You let us walk into a trap.”
“I needed Father to expose himself.”
“You used Mara.”
Elena’s expression hardened.
“No. You did that when you kept her ignorant.”
The words struck.
Declan said nothing.
Mara did.
“She’s right.”
He looked at her.
Not angry.
Wounded.
Good, Mara thought again, and immediately hated herself for thinking it.
They reached a safe house near Lake Forest before midnight.
No television.
No large windows.
No staff except two guards Elena trusted.
Declan took Mara into a private room.
“Sit.”
“I’m pregnant, not fragile.”
“You were shot at.”
“So were you.”
“I’m used to it.”
“That might be the saddest thing you’ve said tonight.”
He almost smiled.
Then he knelt in front of her.
“Are you hurting?”
“No.”
“Cramping?”
“No.”
“Bleeding?”
“No.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
Relief.
Mara watched him.
This was the man she knew.
Or perhaps one part of him.
That was the problem.
She could no longer tell which parts were real.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Elena?” she asked.
“I thought she was dead.”
“You never told me what happened.”
“I don’t talk about it.”
“You don’t talk about anything that might let somebody understand you.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
Declan’s answer came slowly.
“You.”
She frowned.
He looked at her belly.
“You dying.”
The anger inside Mara shifted.
Not gone.
Never that quickly.
But altered.
Declan sat beside her.
“When Elena died, I decided attachment was a liability. Then I met you.”
“That sounds almost romantic until you remember you announced an engagement to somebody else.”
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
“I deserve worse.”
“Yes.”
He gave a faint nod.
“Probably.”
Mara looked at him.
“What exactly is Vivienne to you?”
“An ally.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you ever slept with her?”
“No.”
“Kissed her?”
“No.”
“Wanted to?”
“No.”
“Does she want you?”
Declan paused.
“That isn’t relevant.”
“That means yes.”
“It means Vivienne likes winning.”
“Does she consider marrying you winning?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
Declan rubbed his face.
“The engagement was supposed to last seventy-two hours.”
Mara blinked.
“What?”
“Long enough to move the Serranos and identify who was tracking you.”
“And after seventy-two hours?”
“We were going to announce that negotiations between the families had collapsed.”
“You planned a public breakup?”
“Yes.”
“You people conduct relationships like hostile mergers.”
“That is essentially what this was.”
Mara laughed despite herself.
Declan stared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You laughed.”
“I’m emotionally unstable.”
“You’re angry.”
“I can be both.”
He reached toward her hand.
Stopped.
Waited.
Mara noticed.
After several seconds she placed her hand in his.
His grip was gentle.
Almost cautious.
“I’m still furious,” she said.
“I know.”
“I don’t forgive you.”
“I know.”
“I might leave you.”
His fingers tightened slightly.
“I know.”
“You don’t get to lock me somewhere.”
“I know.”
“Stop agreeing.”
“That one I can’t promise.”
She pulled her hand away, but the edge had gone out of the motion.
They returned to the main room.
Elena had spread documents across the table.
Antonio’s network involved shell companies, judges, police officers, construction unions, trucking routes, and political intermediaries.
Nothing tied directly to him.
Everything tied indirectly.
“This is bigger than the Voss organization,” Elena said.
Declan studied the papers.
“What does Father want now?”
“The child.”
Mara’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because family legitimacy matters to him.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
Elena looked at Declan.
“Father believes bloodlines are institutions. Gabriel was supposed to become his heir.”
“What happened?”
“Gabriel ran.”
Declan froze.
“From where?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Six months?”
“I’ve been searching.”
“And you didn’t contact me?”
“I didn’t know if Father owned you.”
Declan looked offended.
Elena gave him a cold smile.
“You inherited everything he built. What was I supposed to think?”
Mara intervened.
“Where does Vivienne fit?”
Elena’s expression changed.
“She helped Gabriel escape.”
Declan stared.
“Vivienne knew he was alive?”
“For two years.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Ask her.”
As though summoned by the accusation, headlights appeared outside.
Declan’s men raised weapons.
A black sedan stopped.
Vivienne Caruso stepped out.
No white gown now.
Black pantsuit.
Hair pulled back.
No engagement ring.
She entered with both hands visible.
Mara stood.
Their eyes met.
Vivienne looked first at Mara.
Then her belly.
Then Declan.
“So,” Vivienne said quietly, “you finally told her.”
Mara crossed her arms.
“He told me approximately ten minutes after I set our baby’s ultrasound on fire.”
Vivienne winced.
“That could have gone better.”
“You think?”
“I told him the television announcement was cruel.”
Declan looked at her.
“You proposed the television announcement.”
“I proposed a visible alliance. I assumed you were intelligent enough to warn your girlfriend.”
Mara almost liked her.
Almost.
Declan looked betrayed.
“This is becoming an uncomfortable pattern.”
Vivienne ignored him.
“I came because Antonio has Gabriel.”
Elena stood so quickly her chair fell.
“What?”
Vivienne placed a phone on the table.
A video played.
A seven-year-old boy sat in a chair.
He was not tied.
That made it worse.
An older man stood behind him.
Antonio Voss.
Alive.
Silver-haired.
Calm.
Power radiated from him even through the screen.
“My children,” Antonio said.
Declan went rigid.
“If you are watching this, Elena has finally stopped running and Declan has finally stopped pretending he is smarter than his father.”
Elena gripped the table.
Antonio continued.
“Gabriel will remain unharmed.”
The boy stared into the camera.
Brave.
Terrified.
Antonio smiled.
“I want Mara Ellison.”
Declan stepped toward the screen.
“No.”
Antonio could not hear him.
The recording continued.
“Bring her to the old Voss estate tomorrow at midnight. Declan comes alone. Elena remains behind.”
Mara felt Declan turn toward her.
She already knew what he would say.
Absolutely not.
But Antonio was not finished.
“And because I know my son will attempt something heroic, I have prepared an incentive.”
The camera moved.
Another chair appeared.
Someone sat in it.
A woman.
Mara stopped breathing.
She recognized the face immediately.
Impossible.
Her knees weakened.
“No.”
Declan caught her.
Mara stared at the woman she had buried thirteen years earlier.
Her mother lifted her head toward the camera.
May you like
Antonio smiled.
“Now,” he said, “perhaps Mara will come willingly.”
