Chapter 7 - The Sister at the Door
The next person Claire expected to see from Chicago was Anthony Russo.
She was wrong.
At nine the following morning, the café door opened and Olivia Whitmore stepped inside.
Claire forgot how to breathe.
Her younger sister had changed.
Four years had sharpened the soft twenty-three-year-old face Claire remembered. Olivia’s blonde hair was shorter. Her clothes were simpler. She carried no designer handbag.
For several seconds, neither woman spoke.
Then Claire said one word.
“No.”
Olivia stopped.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then leave.”
Olivia’s eyes filled.
“I came because Emma may be in danger.”
“You don’t get to say her name.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
Olivia swallowed.
“Okay.”
Emma was upstairs with Nora.
Thank God.
Claire walked around the counter.
“How did you find me?”
“Damian didn’t tell me.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Anthony Russo.”
Claire froze.
Olivia reached slowly into her coat.
Claire tensed.
“It’s just my phone.”
She showed Claire several messages.
Anthony had contacted Olivia two months earlier.
He knew she and Damian had not spoken in three years.
He told her Damian was considering major business changes.
He asked whether Claire had ever contacted her.
Olivia had ignored him.
Then three days ago, Anthony sent a photograph.
Claire leaving the Tidal Cup.
Claire stared.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell Damian?”
“I tried yesterday. He blocked my old number.”
Claire almost laughed at the absurdity.
“You could have called his office.”
“I did. Someone intercepted the message.”
That was worse.
Olivia lowered the phone.
“I drove here.”
“Why?”
“Because what happened four years ago was my fault too.”
Claire’s expression hardened.
“You think apologizing now matters?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I think keeping Emma safe matters.”
Claire stepped closer.
“You knew I was pregnant?”
Olivia’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“The night you slept with my husband. Did you know?”
“No.”
“After?”
“No.”
“Damian didn’t tell you?”
“He didn’t know.”
Claire studied her.
Olivia looked genuinely stunned.
“You have a daughter?”
Claire wanted to deny it.
Then little footsteps sounded upstairs.
“Mom?”
Emma descended.
Olivia looked at her.
Everything changed.
Emma stopped.
“Who’s that?”
Claire felt sick.
Olivia began crying silently.
She covered her mouth.
Emma looked alarmed.
“Why is she sad?”
Claire struggled.
“This is Olivia.”
“Your sister?”
Claire stared at Emma.
“How do you know that?”
“You have a picture.”
Of course.
One old photograph in a box upstairs.
Claire and Olivia as teenagers.
Before Damian.
Before betrayal.
Before everything.
Olivia crouched.
“Hi, Emma.”
Emma moved closer to Claire.
“Hi.”
Olivia looked at Claire.
“She has his eyes.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“Do not.”
“I’m sorry.”
Emma frowned.
“Everybody talks about my eyes now.”
Claire almost laughed.
Olivia stood.
“I’ll go.”
Claire expected relief.
Instead she heard herself say, “Wait.”
Olivia stopped.
“I haven’t forgiven you.”
“I know.”
“Maybe I never will.”
“I know.”
“But if Anthony contacted you, Damian needs the messages.”
“I’ll give him everything.”
Claire called Damian.
His voice became dangerous the moment he heard Olivia’s name.
“Get her out.”
“No.”
Silence.
Claire almost smiled at the irony.
“Excuse me?” Damian said.
“She has information.”
“I don’t care.”
“You do if Anthony contacted her.”
That changed things.
Twenty minutes later, Damian entered.
When he saw Olivia, his face became ice.
She stood.
“Damian.”
“Don’t.”
Claire nearly said, Stop saying that to people, but remained silent.
Olivia handed Marcus the phone.
He copied the messages.
Damian never looked away from Olivia.
“Did Anthony ask anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Whether Claire ever tried to contact me.”
Damian frowned.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire did.
“The letters.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What letters?” Marcus asked.
Damian knew.
Claire shook her head.
“Nothing useful.”
Olivia looked between them.
“What am I missing?”
“Four years,” Claire said.
Olivia flinched.
Fair.
Emma emerged from behind the counter.
“Daddy!”
Olivia’s eyes widened.
Damian’s entire body softened automatically.
“Hey.”
“I drew another rabbit.”
“Excellent.”
“Your last one looked like a potato.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Olivia stared.
Claire watched her face.
The guilt there was enormous.
That did not erase anything.
But guilt was not nothing.
Emma held up the picture.
Olivia smiled.
“That’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
Emma studied her.
“Are you my aunt?”
The room went silent.
Olivia looked at Claire.
Claire wished someone else could answer.
But there was only truth.
“Yes.”
Emma smiled.
“I never had one before.”
Olivia’s face crumpled.
She turned away.
Claire’s heart twisted despite itself.
After Emma went upstairs, Damian spoke.
“You leave Grey Harbor today.”
Olivia nodded.
“I planned to.”
“Anthony may follow you.”
“I know.”
“Marcus will arrange security.”
Olivia looked surprised.
“You hate me.”
“Yes.”
“But you’ll protect me.”
“I protect problems connected to my family.”
Olivia almost smiled sadly.
“Still charming.”
Damian’s eyes hardened.
Claire interrupted.
“Enough.”
Both looked at her.
She suddenly felt like the older sister and ex-wife she used to be.
“Anthony wants us divided and reactive.”
Marcus nodded.
“That seems likely.”
“So we stop reacting.”
Damian looked at Claire.
“What do you suggest?”
“Olivia stays one night.”
Damian stared.
“No.”
Claire raised an eyebrow.
He corrected himself.
“I strongly disagree.”
Marcus coughed to hide a laugh.
“Why?” Claire asked.
“Because she is a target.”
“So am I.”
“Yes.”
“So is Emma.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Then pretending we’re separate doesn’t help.”
Olivia looked at Claire.
“You’d let me stay?”
“One night. In Nora’s guest room. Not with us.”
Olivia nodded quickly.
“Thank you.”
“This is not forgiveness.”
“I know.”
Claire pointed at her.
“Stop saying that.”
Olivia almost laughed through tears.
For the first time in four years, Claire remembered being nineteen and fighting with Olivia over borrowed shoes.
The memory hurt.
That afternoon Marcus found something hidden inside Anthony’s messages.
One file contained metadata from a company server.
He showed Damian.
“The account traces to Russo Logistics, but the access originated from a Blackwood office terminal.”
“Which terminal?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Yours.”
Damian stared.
“Impossible.”
“Someone used your credentials.”
“Who has them?”
“No one.”
Claire leaned closer.
“Someone must.”
Damian thought.
Then his expression changed.
“Victor.”
Marcus went still.
Claire remembered the name.
Victor Salerno.
Damian’s oldest adviser.
A man who attended their wedding.
A man Damian once called family.
“Victor has emergency access,” Damian said.
Marcus nodded slowly.
“He does.”
Olivia whispered, “Anthony isn’t working alone.”
Damian looked toward the harbor.
This was not a younger lieutenant trying to take power.
This was deeper.
Older.
Someone close enough to know where Damian’s defenses were weakest.
Victor had known Claire.
Known the marriage.
Known Damian’s guilt.
Claire asked the question everyone was avoiding.
“What does he want?”
Damian’s answer came quietly.
“My organization.”
“Then give it to him.”
He looked at her.
“That simple?”
“If keeping it means risking Emma?”
Damian looked toward the stairs.
“No.”
Claire held his gaze.
“Then maybe the empire you spent your whole life protecting is the easiest thing you’ve ever had to lose.”
Before Damian could answer, Marcus’s phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
Marcus ended the call.
“Anthony’s car was found outside Grey Harbor.”
Damian’s expression hardened.
“Where is he?”
“No one knows.”
Then someone knocked on the café window.
Everyone turned.
No person stood outside.
Only another envelope taped to the glass.
This one contained no photograph.
Just an address.
And beneath it:
May you like
Damian comes alone, or the next picture will be taken from Emma’s bedroom.
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