Chapter 3 - What Daniel Stole
Emma did not move.
Neither did Vincent.
Carlo extended his hand.
“Come with me.”
Emma looked at the four men behind him.
Then at Vincent.
“Did my father really send you?”
Carlo’s smile faded slightly.
“He wants you alive.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Vincent almost smiled.
Carlo noticed.
“Careful, Vincent.”
“Answer her.”
Carlo ignored him.
“Emma, we don’t have much time.”
Frank stepped between the elevator and the armed men.
One of them lifted his weapon.
Carlo immediately pushed the barrel down.
“No shooting.”
That surprised Emma.
“Why?”
Carlo looked at her.
“Because Daniel said nobody hurts his daughter.”
The words should have comforted her.
They didn’t.
“My father has been alive for twenty years?”
“Yes.”
“And he waited until tonight?”
“It wasn’t his choice.”
Emma thought about the phone call.
Her father had warned her against Vincent.
Yet Carlo worked for Vincent.
Or appeared to.
Nothing made sense.
Vincent stepped forward.
“If Daniel trusted you, he would have contacted me through you years ago.”
“People change.”
“So do loyalties.”
Carlo’s expression hardened.
For one second, Emma saw something pass between the two men.
A history.
A warning.
Then the building alarm stopped.
Silence filled the elevator shaft.
Carlo glanced at his watch.
“We have ninety seconds.”
“Until what?” Emma asked.
“The police arrive.”
“That sounds good.”
“No,” Vincent and Carlo said simultaneously.
Emma stared at them.
Carlo explained.
“The anonymous emergency call reported an armed hostage situation. When tactical officers enter, whoever planned tonight gets confusion, cameras, and dozens of people pointing guns at each other.”
“And me?”
“You disappear.”
Vincent looked at Emma.
“He’s right.”
She hated hearing it.
Carlo gestured toward the hallway.
“We have another exit.”
Vincent refused.
“I’m coming.”
Carlo laughed once.
“Daniel specifically said you weren’t.”
Emma looked at Vincent.
Again, that flash of guilt.
She made her decision.
“I’m not going anywhere without answers.”
Carlo nodded.
“Then move.”
They entered the unfinished forty-seventh floor.
Plastic sheeting covered walls.
Construction lights cast long shadows.
Emma walked between Vincent and Frank while Carlo’s men spread out.
At the far end was a freight elevator.
Carlo entered a code.
The doors opened.
Inside sat a black duffel bag.
Emma stopped.
Carlo unzipped it.
Money.
Stacks of cash.
And beneath them, documents.
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Daniel.”
Carlo removed a black ledger.
Its cover was worn.
The pages inside were filled with dates, initials, account numbers, and handwritten notes.
Emma recognized the handwriting immediately.
Her father had written birthday cards exactly that way.
“He wrote this?”
Carlo nodded.
Vincent reached for it.
Carlo pulled it back.
“No.”
“What is it?” Emma asked.
“The reason Daniel disappeared.”
Carlo opened to a marked page.
Twenty years earlier, Vincent’s older brother, Anthony Moretti, had been consolidating control over the family’s legitimate and criminal operations.
Daniel Reeves had been their financial fixer.
Not an elevator repairman.
Not maintenance.
An accountant.
A brilliant one.
Daniel discovered Anthony was laundering money through construction projects while secretly stealing from his own partners.
Worse, several payments appeared connected to murders.
Daniel copied everything.
Then he tried to leave.
Anthony discovered the betrayal.
“He ordered Daniel killed,” Emma whispered.
Carlo nodded.
Emma looked at Vincent.
“You said you were there.”
Vincent’s voice was quiet.
“I drove your father to the meeting.”
“Knowing what would happen?”
“Yes.”
The word devastated her.
Emma slapped him again.
This time harder.
“You took him there to die.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because twenty years ago I was a coward.”
Vincent did not defend himself.
“I believed family loyalty meant obedience. Anthony told me Daniel had betrayed us. I drove him to an abandoned warehouse in Queens.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“What happened?”
“When I realized Anthony intended to kill him, I changed my mind.”
Vincent looked at the cuff link in Emma’s hand.
“I helped Daniel escape.”
Carlo interrupted.
“That’s Vincent’s version.”
Emma looked between them.
“What’s my father’s?”
Carlo’s expression darkened.
“That Vincent helped him escape because Daniel threatened to expose him too.”
Vincent said nothing.
Emma’s stomach dropped.
“Were you involved?”
“In some things.”
“Murders?”
“No.”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
“Threats?”
Vincent hesitated.
“Yes.”
Emma stepped away.
The polished older man in front of her suddenly seemed exactly like the frightening reputation surrounding him.
Vincent did not chase her forgiveness.
“I was not a good man, Emma.”
“Was?”
His expression tightened.
“Fair question.”
Carlo zipped the ledger inside the bag.
“Daniel kept evidence because he knew Anthony would hunt him. Your mother agreed to stage his death.”
Emma looked sharply at him.
“My mother knew he survived?”
“Yes.”
The betrayal landed differently.
Her mother had tucked Emma into bed every night while she cried for her father.
She had taken her to a cemetery.
She had stood beside a grave.
She had lied every day for fourteen years until cancer took her.
Emma whispered, “Why?”
“Because Daniel believed Anthony would use you to find him.”
“So he abandoned us?”
“No.”
Carlo’s answer came too quickly.
Emma noticed.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Carlo looked at Vincent.
Vincent looked at the floor.
Emma’s voice rose.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Carlo finally said, “Daniel tried to come back.”
Emma stopped.
“When?”
“Three years after he disappeared.”
She would have been eleven.
“What happened?”
“He was intercepted before he reached your mother.”
“By Anthony?”
Carlo hesitated.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Nobody answered.
Emma looked at Vincent.
His silence gave her the answer.
“You?”
Vincent shook his head.
“Not me.”
“Who?”
Vincent said, “Someone inside my organization.”
Emma remembered the man who had spent eight months pretending to be Leonard Pike.
“How long has Pike been involved?”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“His real name is Thomas Vale. He worked for Anthony.”
Carlo added, “After Anthony died, Vale vanished.”
“When?”
“Fourteen years ago.”
Emma calculated.
Six years after her father disappeared.
“Why would he come back now?”
Carlo looked at the ledger.
“Because Daniel has something Vale needs.”
“What?”
“The original records.”
Emma stared at the bag.
“I thought those were the records.”
“Copies.”
Vincent suddenly understood.
“He used Emma.”
Carlo nodded.
Emma felt cold.
“For what?”
“To force Daniel out.”
The entire evening became horrifyingly clear.
Vale had found her.
Taken photographs.
Become her supervisor.
Placed her inside Vincent’s penthouse.
Ensured she saw Daniel’s portrait.
Then waited for chaos.
He never needed Emma dead.
He needed Daniel watching.
“He knew my father would contact me.”
“Yes,” Carlo said.
“And now he can trace him.”
Carlo’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“When?”
He ended the call.
“What?” Emma demanded.
Carlo looked at Vincent.
“They traced Daniel’s call.”
Emma’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Where?”
“Brooklyn.”
She grabbed Carlo’s arm.
“Take me there.”
“No.”
“He’s my father.”
“And Vale knows where he is now.”
“All the more reason.”
Vincent stepped beside her.
“I’ll take her.”
Carlo stared.
“Daniel will kill you.”
Vincent picked up the duffel bag.
“He’s had twenty years to try.”
They reached the underground garage through a freight route.
A black SUV waited.
Frank drove.
Carlo sat in front.
Emma and Vincent sat behind.
For twelve minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Emma asked the question that had been eating through her.
“Why did you keep his portrait?”
Vincent looked out the window.
“Because I owed him my life.”
“You drove him to an execution.”
“And he still saved mine.”
Vincent explained.
At the warehouse, Anthony realized Vincent intended to help Daniel escape.
Anthony ordered both men killed.
Daniel could have run.
Instead, he returned for Vincent.
They escaped through a loading bay.
During the chase, Daniel gave Vincent the cuff link.
“If Emma ever comes looking, give her this.”
Emma stared at the silver object.
“Why?”
“He said you would understand.”
“I don’t.”
Vincent nodded toward it.
“Look closer.”
Emma examined the cuff link under the passing streetlights.
D.R.
She pressed her fingernail against the engraving.
Something shifted.
The cuff link opened.
Inside was a tiny folded strip of paper.
Emma’s hands trembled as she removed it.
A sequence of numbers had been written inside.
41-18-12.
Carlo looked back.
Vincent whispered, “A safe-deposit box.”
Emma knew immediately which bank.
Her mother had once taken her there every year.
Queens Federal Trust.
She had never understood why.
Then the SUV stopped.
They had reached an old brick building near the Brooklyn waterfront.
One upstairs window was illuminated.
Emma opened the door before anyone could stop her.
She ran.
“Emma!”
Vincent followed.
The building entrance was unlocked.
Emma climbed two flights.
At apartment 3C, she stopped.
Her hand hovered over the door.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of birthdays.
Graduations.
Her first job.
Her mother’s funeral.
Twenty years believing Daniel Reeves was beneath a granite marker in Queens.
Emma knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again.
“Dad?”
Something moved inside.
The lock clicked.
Emma stopped breathing.
The door opened slowly.
A silver-haired man stood in the darkness.
His eyes were exactly the same as hers.
“Peanut?”
Emma’s knees weakened.
Then Daniel looked past her.
He saw Vincent.
His expression changed completely.
May you like
Daniel reached behind the door.
And pulled out a gun.
