Chapter 8 - The Empty Yellow Dress
We made one mistake.
Only one.
It was enough.
At 6:12 the following morning, Gabriel received confirmation that Judge Hale’s warrant would be executed within two hours.
Every Moretti archive connected to South River Terminal could legally be seized.
I didn't care about the corporate files.
I cared about whatever my father had hidden among them.
So Gabriel and I returned to Chicago.
Claire stayed behind with Lily.
I tripled security.
Changed guard rotations.
Disabled external network access.
Michael Grant remained voluntarily confined to the property.
Nobody entered.
Nobody left.
It should have been enough.
At Moretti headquarters, we reached the archive floor fourteen minutes before investigators arrived.
My father's files were stored in steel cabinets.
Paper contracts.
Letters.
Photographs.
Handwritten notes.
We searched South River Terminal records.
Nothing.
Then I noticed an old cigar box on the top shelf of a cabinet.
My father never smoked cigars.
Inside was a photograph.
Alessandro Moretti and Victor Kane.
Same terminal.
Same year.
On the back my father had written:
Never confuse a man who fears you with a man who has stopped wanting revenge.
Beneath the photograph was a sealed medical report.
My father's.
Seven years old.
The report documented traces of a cardiac medication he had never been prescribed.
I stared at it.
Gabriel read over my shoulder.
“Adrian…”
“My father knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That someone had tried to poison him.”
“Did it kill him?”
“The report is three months before his death.”
The final document was a letter addressed to me.
Unopened.
I broke the seal.
Adrian,
If you're reading this, Victor has returned.
I didn't continue.
My phone rang.
Claire.
I answered.
“Everything okay?”
No voice.
Then breathing.
“Claire?”
A sound.
Metal striking something.
Then the call disconnected.
Every muscle in my body locked.
I called back.
No answer.
“Gabriel.”
He was already dialing the lake house team.
Nothing.
One guard answered after twelve seconds.
His voice was weak.
“Chief…”
“What happened?”
“Gas.”
“What gas?”
“Smoke system… somebody…”
The line died.
We ran.
The drive north became a blur of speed and phone calls.
Local law enforcement was twenty minutes away.
Our secondary team closer.
Michael answered once.
“Adrian.”
“Where's Lily?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is Claire?”
“Kitchen. Unconscious but breathing.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Find Lily.”
“I am.”
“Find her.”
When we reached the lake house, two guards were awake.
Three others were recovering outside.
Someone had released an anesthetic compound through part of the heating system.
Michael's medical kit had helped revive them.
Claire sat on the kitchen floor.
She had a cut above one eyebrow.
I knelt.
“Where is she?”
Her eyes were empty.
“I don't know.”
“Claire.”
“I don't know!”
She pushed past me and ran upstairs.
“Lily!”
We searched every room.
Closets.
Bathrooms.
Under beds.
The basement.
Nothing.
In Lily's bedroom, the blankets lay on the floor.
One gold shoe remained beneath the bed.
Her yellow dress from the previous day hung over a chair.
Empty.
Clover was gone.
Claire picked up the shoe.
A sound came from her that I will remember until I die.
It wasn't a scream.
It was the sound of a person breaking from the inside.
I wanted to promise Lily was alive.
I couldn't.
I wanted to promise Victor wouldn't hurt her.
I couldn't.
So I said the only thing I knew was true.
“I will find her.”
Claire turned on me.
“You promised she was safe.”
“I know.”
“You promised!”
“I know.”
She struck my chest.
Once.
Then again.
I let her.
“You said nobody could get to her!”
“I was wrong.”
That stopped her.
Maybe because powerful men rarely admitted those words.
I didn't care.
“I was wrong,” I repeated.
Her fists remained against my shirt.
“I should never have trusted you.”
The sentence hurt more than it had any right to.
Gabriel entered.
“We found tire tracks.”
“What vehicle?”
“Utility van. Fake plates.”
“Direction?”
“South.”
“Cameras?”
“Working on it.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Claire grabbed my wrist.
“Speaker.”
I answered.
Victor's voice.
“Good morning.”
Claire's face transformed.
“Where is my daughter?”
Victor paused.
“Claire.”
“If you hurt her—”
“She is perfectly safe.”
“Let me hear her.”
“Soon.”
“Now!”
Victor's calm remained infuriating.
“You always were emotional.”
I took the phone.
“Victor.”
“Adrian.”
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
“The key is useless.”
“Not the key anymore.”
“What?”
“The records.”
“You already know I have them.”
“And I know Daniel made copies.”
“Then why take Lily?”
“Because paper doesn't love anyone back.”
Claire covered her mouth.
I lowered my voice.
“You have no idea what you've done.”
Victor laughed.
“I know exactly what I've done.”
“No.”
“Threats already?”
“Not a threat.”
I looked at the empty bed.
“You took a child who trusted me to keep her safe.”
Silence.
For the first time, Victor stopped sounding amused.
Then Lily's voice came faintly through the phone.
“Mr. Adrian?”
My entire world narrowed to that sound.
“Lily.”
“Mommy?”
Claire lunged toward the phone.
“I'm here, baby!”
“Mommy!”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
“The room has red curtains.”
Victor returned.
“Enough.”
Claire cried, “Lily!”
The line changed.
“Bring Daniel's laptop and memory cards to the Kane Grand Hotel tonight at nine.”
The Kane Grand had been closed for redevelopment for two years.
“Come alone.”
“No.”
“Then tomorrow Claire receives a purple rabbit in a box.”
Claire nearly collapsed.
Something inside me became very quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
Victor continued.
“Nine o'clock.”
The call ended.
Gabriel looked at me.
“You're not going alone.”
“No.”
Claire wiped her tears.
“Neither am I.”
“No.”
She turned.
I expected argument.
Instead she stared at me with an expression that made argument irrelevant.
“You failed once.”
I said nothing.
“So did I.”
“Claire—”
“I taught Lily that if Victor ever found us, she should find you.”
Her voice broke.
“She did exactly what I taught her.”
She stepped closer.
“Now we're going to do exactly what we promised her.”
I saw Daniel's widow.
A frightened mother.
A woman who had been running for three years.
But something had changed.
Fear had reached its limit.
“What did you promise?” I asked.
Claire looked at me.
“That we would come back.”
At that moment Gabriel’s analyst called.
He had tracked the van through a traffic camera.
Destination confirmed.
Downtown Chicago.
Kane Grand Hotel.
But there was something else.
A second camera had caught the driver's face.
Gabriel turned his phone toward me.
The man behind the wheel wasn't Marcus Vale.
It wasn't Michael Rowe.
It was someone I had known since childhood.
Someone whose funeral I had attended nine years earlier.
My father's former driver.
Samuel Moretti.
My uncle.
A dead man was driving Victor Kane’s van.
May you like
And Lily was inside it.
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