Chapter 1 - The Image in His Hand
Evelyn Hayes jerked awake and whispered, "Where is my baby?"
A powerful man in a black suit stood beside her bed holding an ultrasound photograph.
A handwritten number was visible along its white border.
His expression changed.
This was no ordinary accident.
For several seconds, Evelyn could hear nothing except the mechanical pulse of the heart monitor beside her.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Her chest tightened.
The room was unfamiliar.
White sheets. Pale walls. A clear IV line disappearing into her wrist. A monitor glowing beside the bed. Sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Chicago and the blue-gray water beyond the buildings.
Then the pain arrived.
Her ribs.
Her shoulder.
Her head.
Her right arm was wrapped from wrist to elbow.
Memory returned in pieces.
A green traffic light.
Her hands on the steering wheel.
A black SUV appearing too quickly in her rearview mirror.
Headlights.
Metal.
Glass.
Then darkness.
Evelyn tried to sit up.
Pain shot through her side.
"Easy."
The man's voice stopped her.
She looked at him.
Tall. Late thirties. Dark hair swept back from a hard, controlled face. Black suit. White shirt. Black tie. Expensive watch. He stood with the kind of stillness that made the entire room seem to organize itself around him.
He was holding something.
Her ultrasound.
Evelyn's breathing stopped.
"Give me that."
He looked down at the photograph.
Then back at her.
"Who gave this to you?"
"My doctor."
"Which doctor?"
"Why?"
His jaw tightened.
Evelyn pulled the blanket higher.
"Who are you?"
For the first time, something almost human moved across his expression.
Not softness.
Not exactly.
Recognition, perhaps.
Then it disappeared.
"The man who pulled you out of that car."
Evelyn stared.
She remembered nothing after the impact.
"You saved me?"
He didn't answer immediately.
She looked down at the bandages on her arms.
Then toward the ultrasound again.
"Then... thank you."
His eyes returned to the black-and-white image.
"Don't thank me."
His voice dropped.
"That ultrasound just made you my war."
Evelyn stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
Before he could answer, the door opened.
A doctor entered with a nurse.
The man in the black suit shifted instantly, putting himself between Evelyn and the doorway before he seemed to realize what he was doing.
The doctor stopped.
"Mr. Moretti."
Evelyn noticed the change in the doctor's posture.
Not respect.
Fear.
The stranger turned slightly.
"Doctor."
Evelyn looked from one man to the other.
"You know him?"
The doctor gave Evelyn a careful smile.
"Ms. Hayes, I'm Dr. Warren. You've been unconscious for almost fourteen hours. You suffered a concussion, two cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, and several superficial injuries."
"My baby."
Dr. Warren's expression softened.
"The fetal heartbeat is strong."
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Air left her lungs.
For the first time since waking, she felt something other than terror.
Relief.
Her hand moved instinctively toward her abdomen.
Eleven weeks.
Eleven weeks and three days.
She had known for less than a month.
Nobody else was supposed to know.
Nobody except—
Her eyes opened.
"Where is my phone?"
The nurse glanced toward the bedside cabinet.
"Your belongings were recovered from the vehicle."
Evelyn reached for the drawer.
The man beside her spoke.
"Don't."
She froze.
"What?"
"Your phone isn't secure."
She stared at him.
"Mr. Moretti," Dr. Warren said cautiously, "she needs rest."
Moretti.
The name hit Evelyn with strange familiarity.
She had heard it before.
Everyone in Chicago had.
Moretti Logistics.
Moretti Development.
Moretti Foundation.
And whispers that never appeared in newspapers.
Vincent Moretti.
She looked at him again.
Suddenly the expensive suit seemed less important than the cold authority in his eyes.
"You are Vincent Moretti."
He said nothing.
Evelyn's mouth went dry.
"My father used to tell me never to say that name."
Something flickered behind his eyes.
"What was your father's name?"
"Daniel Hayes."
Vincent became completely still.
The doctor and nurse exchanged a glance.
Evelyn noticed.
"What?"
Vincent placed the ultrasound photograph on the bedside table.
Very carefully.
"Your father was an accountant."
"He died six years ago."
"I know."
The answer came too quickly.
Evelyn's fear sharpened.
"How?"
Vincent looked at her.
"Because he worked for my family."
The room seemed to tilt.
"No."
"He handled corporate books for Moretti Holdings."
"My father worked for a manufacturing company."
"He told you what he needed you to believe."
Evelyn shook her head.
Pain throbbed behind her eyes.
"This is insane."
Vincent reached for the ultrasound again.
He pointed at the number written along the white border.
"Who wrote this?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't?"
"No."
"Your doctor?"
"I said I don't know."
The restraint in Vincent's face cracked for half a second.
Not anger at her.
Fear.
And somehow that frightened Evelyn more.
He turned toward Dr. Warren.
"Who handled the ultrasound?"
The doctor swallowed.
"It was brought up from imaging."
"Who physically carried it?"
"I'd have to check."
"Do that."
Dr. Warren hesitated.
"Now."
The doctor left.
Evelyn stared after him.
"What is 317?"
Vincent looked through the windows toward the skyline.
"Room 317 was where my brother died."
Evelyn said nothing.
Vincent continued.
"Seventeen years ago."
"What does that have to do with my baby?"
"I don't know yet."
A phone vibrated inside his jacket.
Vincent answered.
"Speak."
A male voice came faintly through the receiver.
Vincent listened without interrupting.
Then his face hardened.
"You're certain?"
Pause.
"Lock the floor."
Evelyn pushed herself upright despite the pain.
"What happened?"
Vincent ended the call.
"The vehicle that hit you was stolen."
"So?"
"The driver abandoned it three blocks from the crash."
"That doesn't mean—"
"It was wiped clean."
Evelyn's throat tightened.
"Maybe someone panicked."
Vincent looked at her.
"They removed the traffic camera two hours before you drove through that intersection."
Silence.
Evelyn felt cold.
"Why would anybody do that?"
Vincent stepped closer.
"That's what I'm going to find out."
"No."
His eyebrows moved slightly.
"No?"
"I don't know you."
"That is obvious."
"I don't want your people surrounding me."
"My people are already surrounding you."
Evelyn looked toward the door.
Only then did she notice the shadow of a man standing outside.
Another near the windows beyond the hospital-room entrance.
Her pulse accelerated.
"Tell them to leave."
"I can't."
"You mean you won't."
"I mean someone tried to kill you, and until I know why, nobody gets close enough to try again."
"I was in a traffic accident."
"No, Evelyn."
It was the first time he had used her name.
"You were hunted."
The certainty in his voice left no space for comfort.
She turned away.
Her eyes fell on the ultrasound.
Eleven weeks.
Her baby.
The one secret she had been protecting.
The one piece of happiness she had refused to let anyone touch.
"Nobody knew."
Vincent's gaze sharpened.
"About the pregnancy?"
"Almost nobody."
"Who did?"
Evelyn hesitated.
"Your hesitation says someone."
She closed her eyes.
"Adrian."
"Last name."
"Vale."
Vincent's expression vanished.
Absolutely vanished.
Evelyn noticed immediately.
"You know him."
Vincent's jaw shifted.
"How do you know Adrian Vale?"
"He was my fiancé."
"Was?"
"We broke up six weeks ago."
"Why?"
"That is none of your business."
"It became my business when a truck tried to crush your car."
"It wasn't a truck."
Vincent paused.
"What?"
"It was an SUV."
His eyes narrowed.
"The police report says delivery truck."
Evelyn stared.
"No. It was black. Large. An SUV."
Vincent pulled out his phone.
"Marco."
A man answered immediately.
"Get me every police record related to the Hayes collision. Original uploads. Not summaries."
He ended the call.
Evelyn studied him.
"Why would someone change that?"
"To make the wrong vehicle disappear."
Her stomach turned.
She placed a protective hand over herself.
Vincent saw it.
His expression changed again.
Not tenderness.
Something more dangerous.
Commitment.
"Tell me about Adrian."
Evelyn looked away.
She hated talking about him.
Especially to a stranger.
Especially this stranger.
"He was charming when we met."
"That usually means the rest gets worse."
She almost laughed.
Almost.
"We dated for eight months. He proposed. Then things changed."
"How?"
"He wanted to know everything."
"Everything?"
"My bank accounts. My father's estate. Old documents. Storage boxes. Even childhood photographs."
Vincent's attention sharpened.
"Did your father leave you papers?"
"Boxes."
"Where?"
"My apartment."
Vincent took out his phone again.
"Send two teams to her apartment."
"No."
He stopped.
"You are not sending strangers through my home."
"If someone targeted you because of something Daniel Hayes left behind, your apartment may already have been searched."
"Stop."
"Evelyn—"
"I woke up ten minutes ago!"
Her voice broke.
The heart monitor accelerated.
"I don't know where I am. My body hurts. My car is destroyed. My baby could have died. And some man I've never met is telling doctors what to do, surrounding my room with guards, talking about murder, and ordering people into my apartment."
Vincent remained silent.
Tears burned behind her eyes.
She hated crying.
Especially in front of people.
Especially powerful men.
"I need one minute where nobody tells me my entire life is a lie."
Vincent looked at her for several seconds.
Then he did something unexpected.
He stepped back.
"All right."
Evelyn blinked.
"All right?"
"One minute."
He looked at his watch.
Despite everything, she stared at him.
"Are you actually timing me?"
"No."
"You looked at your watch."
"Habit."
She let out a weak, exhausted laugh.
It hurt her ribs.
She winced.
Vincent moved forward instinctively.
She raised her hand.
He stopped.
The strange moment passed.
A knock came at the door.
One of Vincent's men entered.
Early forties. Broad shoulders. Gray suit.
"Boss."
"Marco."
"We found something."
Vincent glanced at Evelyn.
"Say it."
Marco looked uncertain.
Vincent repeated, "Say it."
"The SUV was located in a warehouse near the river."
Evelyn's stomach clenched.
"Registered?"
"Fake plates."
"Anything inside?"
"Burner phone."
"And?"
Marco looked directly at Evelyn.
"A photograph."
Vincent's voice became colder.
"Of what?"
"Ms. Hayes leaving her obstetrician's office yesterday."
Evelyn stopped breathing.
Vincent's eyes turned to her.
"You said almost nobody knew."
She could barely speak.
"Adrian did."
"Anyone else?"
"My doctor."
"Family?"
"My mother died when I was nineteen. My father is gone. I don't have siblings."
"Friends?"
"One."
"Name."
"Naomi Reed."
"Trustworthy?"
"Yes."
"How trustworthy?"
"She would die before hurting me."
Vincent gave Marco a look.
Marco left.
Evelyn stared at him.
"You're checking her."
"I'm checking everyone."
"You don't trust anybody."
"That is why I'm alive."
The words were not arrogant.
They sounded like a sentence he had learned painfully.
The door opened again.
Dr. Warren returned.
He looked pale.
"I checked imaging."
Vincent waited.
"The technician who performed Ms. Hayes's emergency ultrasound left the hospital forty minutes ago."
"Name?"
"Laura Bennett."
"Call her."
"We did."
"And?"
"No answer."
Vincent's expression darkened.
Dr. Warren swallowed.
"There's something else."
He held out a plastic evidence sleeve.
Inside was a small piece of paper.
Vincent took it.
Evelyn leaned forward.
There were four handwritten words.
HEIRS DON'T BELONG TO YOU.
Evelyn stared.
"What does that mean?"
Nobody answered.
Her heartbeat thudded against her ribs.
Vincent turned the paper over.
Another number had been written on the back.
He looked toward the ultrasound.
Same handwriting.
Same number.
Evelyn felt the blood drain from her face.
"Vincent."
His eyes met hers.
She had used his first name without realizing it.
He stepped beside the bed.
"Nobody touches you."
"Why?"
"Because whoever planned this knows too much."
"About me?"
Vincent looked at the ultrasound.
"No."
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Marco's voice was loud enough for Evelyn to hear.
"We reached her apartment."
Vincent's expression sharpened.
"And?"
"The door was open."
Evelyn's pulse jumped.
Marco continued.
"Everything's been searched."
Vincent said nothing.
Then Marco's voice changed.
"Boss, there's someone inside."
Evelyn gripped the blanket.
"Who?"
Marco paused.
"We don't know yet."
May you like
A crash sounded through the phone.
Then the line went dead.
