Chapter 17 - Two Hundred Men Chose One Woman
The darkness lasted exactly eleven seconds.
It felt considerably longer.
A woman screamed.
Someone dropped a glass.
I heard Adrian's voice beside me.
"Emma, stay close."
I grabbed his sleeve.
Emergency lighting illuminated the exits.
Hotel security began guiding guests away from the ballroom.
When the lights returned, Nicholas was gone.
Adrian looked toward the service corridor.
Marco appeared moments later.
"Police are checking the upper floor. The building is being secured."
"Lucy?" I asked.
"No confirmation yet."
I felt sick.
Then Detective Reyes called.
"The child is safe."
My knees weakened.
"Where is she?"
"At the protected residence with Elizabeth. The photograph was taken earlier and altered to imply she was inside the hotel."
I pressed one hand against my chest.
"Thank God."
Adrian closed his eyes briefly.
Then turned to Marco.
"Get Emma to a secure location."
I looked at him.
"What about you?"
"I need to speak with Reyes."
"I'm not leaving without knowing what's happening."
"Emma."
"No."
He studied me.
Then nodded.
"Fine. We stay together until officers direct otherwise."
We moved to a secured conference room away from the ballroom.
Outside, the investigation was accelerating.
Victor's public event had created a perfect opportunity for Nicholas to contact Adrian.
But he'd underestimated one important detail.
Too many people had seen him.
His appearance had been captured by multiple cameras.
His communications with Victor were now part of an active investigation.
And the Nightjar records had already been preserved.
For the first time, the brothers' secrecy was becoming their greatest weakness.
By dawn, Victor Hale had been taken into custody on charges connected to the financial scheme, pending further proceedings.
Nicholas remained unaccounted for.
The investigation continued.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt numb.
I hadn't slept properly in days.
My phone had become an endless stream of threatening messages, requests for interviews, and strangers demanding explanations.
I wanted my apartment.
My ugly couch.
My flickering porch light.
I wanted a world where the biggest disaster was spilling coffee on my scrubs.
Adrian found me sitting alone near a conference room window.
"Emma?"
I looked up.
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
It was such an ordinary question.
So gentle.
So completely unlike the rest of our circumstances.
And suddenly, I started crying.
Not gracefully.
Not quietly.
I covered my face and sobbed.
Adrian crouched in front of me.
He didn't tell me to stop.
He didn't say everything would be fine.
He simply remained there.
When I finally looked at him, I whispered, "I'm so tired."
His expression softened.
"I know."
"I don't want to be brave anymore."
"Then don't be."
I shook my head.
"Everybody keeps looking at me like I'm supposed to know what happens next."
"You don't have to."
He offered his hand.
"Come home."
I stared.
"Your home?"
"For now. Only if you want to."
I accepted.
When we returned to the Russo estate, the driveway was lined with black SUVs.
Men stood along the entrance, beneath the columns, and beside the garden paths.
The sight brought an uncomfortable memory rushing back.
My apartment.
The rain.
Two hundred men.
I turned toward Adrian.
"Not again."
He frowned.
"What?"
"Your entire security department appears to be waiting outside."
Marco approached before Adrian could answer.
"Miss Shaw."
I looked at him.
"Please tell me nobody's planning to surround another residential street."
He smiled.
"No, ma'am."
"Then what's this?"
Marco glanced toward the men.
"Some of the employees wanted to thank you."
"For what?"
Adrian looked equally confused.
Marco stepped aside.
An older man approached.
He was probably sixty, with gray hair and rough hands.
"My name is Peter Lawson," he said. "I've worked for Russo Holdings for twenty-two years."
I nodded uncertainly.
"Hello."
"Your father helped me when I was a young mechanic at Halcyon."
My throat tightened.
Peter removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
"Eleven years ago, Daniel warned several of us that something was wrong. Some listened. Some were too afraid."
He looked toward Adrian.
"When Mr. Russo decided to open the records and cooperate with investigators, employees like me finally had the chance to speak without worrying that our families would be punished by the people responsible."
Another man stepped forward.
Then another.
I realized the men weren't all bodyguards.
Some were drivers.
Warehouse workers.
Maintenance supervisors.
Security employees.
Men who had spent years working inside the same sprawling corporate system.
Peter looked at me.
"We heard Victor offered you money."
I lowered my eyes.
"We wanted you to know your father wasn't forgotten."
Marco extended a large envelope.
Inside were letters.
Hundreds of them.
Handwritten messages from people whose lives had crossed my father's in ways I'd never known.
One man remembered Daniel helping him find work after a factory closure.
Another recalled Daniel staying late to repair a broken heater in the employee break room.
A third wrote that Daniel had quietly paid for his daughter's school supplies when money was tight.
I looked around the driveway.
Two hundred men stood in silence.
Not because Adrian had commanded them to intimidate someone.
But because they'd chosen to gather and honor a man who had once helped them.
Tears streamed down my face.
Adrian stood beside me.
"Did you arrange this?" I whispered.
"No."
His voice sounded thick.
"I wish I had."
Peter cleared his throat.
"Miss Shaw, your father used to tell us something."
"What?"
"That people don't need to be powerful to matter."
He smiled gently.
"Seems he was right."
I pressed the envelope against my chest.
Then Marco's phone rang.
His expression changed as he listened.
He looked toward Adrian.
"Sir, Detective Reyes has an urgent message."
Adrian took the phone.
For several seconds, he remained completely silent.
Then he looked at me.
"What?" I asked.
"Nicholas has contacted the authorities."
"Is he surrendering?"
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"He says he'll turn himself in."
"Then that's good, isn't it?"
"There's a condition."
I stared.
"What condition?"
Adrian's expression became unreadable.
May you like
"He wants to speak to me first."
And the meeting was scheduled for the place where Daniel Shaw had died.
