Chapter 8 - The Man Inside Damian’s Organization
Damian ordered two guards outside Khloe’s hospital room.
Khloe objected.
Damian ignored her.
He ordered another man inside the hallway.
Khloe objected again.
Damian ignored that too.
By noon, Leo had located Elena Russo.
Not Italy.
Not Europe.
She owned a townhouse on the Upper East Side through a trust.
Nicolas had visited it six times in the past month.
Damian went there alone except for Leo.
Elena opened the door herself.
Sixty-two.
Elegant.
Gray beginning at her temples.
A silver-handled cane in one hand.
She looked at Damian as if she had been expecting him.
“You have your father’s bad habit.”
“What?”
“Arriving angry instead of asking questions.”
“Khloe Hayes was kidnapped.”
“I heard.”
“You knew.”
Elena stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Damian did not move.
“Did you know?”
“Yes.”
Leo shifted behind him.
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“And you did nothing?”
“I did several things.”
“She was stabbed.”
Elena’s composure cracked.
“What?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
For the first time, she seemed genuinely shaken.
“I was told Daniel Pierce would frighten her, recover the photographs and release her.”
Damian stepped closer.
“You arranged it.”
“No.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“That’s enough.”
“No, Damian. It isn’t.”
She met his eyes.
“If you want Khloe alive tomorrow, you need to understand what is actually happening.”
“Start talking.”
Elena sat.
Twenty-three years earlier, she explained, Patrick Walsh and Vincent Russo had been business partners.
But Walsh was becoming reckless.
The warehouse fire broke the alliance.
Vincent protected witnesses.
Walsh tried to find them.
Thomas Hayes kept the ledger.
And Elena?
“I helped Thomas disappear.”
Damian stared.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father couldn’t.”
“Where is Hayes?”
“Dead now.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“Where’s the ledger?”
Elena smiled sadly.
“If I knew, this would have ended years ago.”
Damian looked at Nicolas’s photograph.
“Why is your son meeting Walsh?”
Elena’s expression hardened.
“Because I sent him.”
Leo spoke.
“To spy?”
“To negotiate.”
“For what?”
“Walter Hayes.”
Damian understood.
“Nicolas was trying to get Walter away from Walsh.”
“Yes.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because Patrick wanted you involved.”
“Why?”
Elena stared at him.
“Your father left something for you.”
“The second ledger?”
“No.”
She walked toward a cabinet.
From inside she removed a sealed letter.
Vincent’s handwriting covered the front.
DAMIAN.
“He gave this to me before he died,” Elena said.
“He told me to keep it until Patrick Walsh came after Thomas Hayes’s family.”
Damian opened it.
Son,
If you are reading this, then I failed to bury something that should have died with my generation.
Patrick Walsh will tell you I stole money.
Walter Hayes may tell Khloe that I destroyed Thomas.
Both men will believe parts of what they say.
Do not trust the simple version.
Thomas Hayes saved my life and I saved his.
The original ledger was never mine.
Thomas hid it where neither Walsh nor I could reach it without Khloe Hayes.
Damian stopped.
Khloe.
His father continued.
Thomas believed the next generation deserved a choice we never had.
If Khloe wants the truth, help her find it.
If she wants to burn it, let her.
Do not become your father merely because men expect you to.
Damian lowered the page.
Elena watched him.
“What does it mean?”
Damian folded the letter.
“Thomas hid the ledger for Khloe.”
“Then Walsh will never stop.”
“Why?”
“Because it isn’t just evidence of an old fire.”
Elena’s voice became quieter.
“It contains accounts.”
“What accounts?”
“Politicians. Judges. executives. Police. Men Walsh paid for twenty years.”
Leo whistled softly.
“That ledger could destroy half his network.”
“Exactly.”
Damian looked at Elena.
“Who stabbed Khloe?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
“You sound certain.”
“Daniel was supposed to retrieve the memory card. Nothing more.”
“Then somebody changed the plan.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Elena looked toward the doorway.
At that exact moment, glass shattered in the front room.
Leo drew his weapon.
Damian pushed Elena down.
A shot struck the wall.
Another.
Someone outside fired through the window.
Leo moved toward the hall.
“Stay down!”
The attack lasted twelve seconds.
Then silence.
When they searched outside, the shooter was gone.
But a phone had been left in the alley.
Its screen displayed a single message.
STOP TALKING.
Attached was a photograph.
Khloe’s hospital room.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
Damian’s blood went cold.
Someone was watching her.
He called the guard.
No answer.
Second guard.
No answer.
Damian ran for the car.
By the time he reached the hospital, the hallway was chaos.
One guard lay unconscious.
The second had been found inside a stairwell.
Khloe’s room was empty.
Her IV line lay across the bed.
Damian stared at it.
A nurse rushed toward him.
“She was here five minutes ago.”
“Where did she go?”
“We don’t know.”
Damian looked at the open window, then at the untouched security bracelet on the pillow.
Khloe had disappeared again.
Only this time, there were no signs of a struggle.
On the bedside table she had left Damian a note.
May you like
Three words.
DON’T FOLLOW ME.
