Chapter 8 - The Man Alexander Trusted Most
The music box played “You Are My Sunshine.”
I hadn’t heard the melody in years.
My mother used to wind it whenever I couldn’t sleep.
I sat in Alexander’s library with the box in my lap while everyone else studied it as though it might explode.
Maybe emotionally, it already had.
“Your mother said the answer is in the song?” Julian asked.
“Gabriel said she told me the answer when I was a child.”
Alexander sat beside me.
“What did she say?”
I closed my eyes.
Memories returned in fragments.
My mother brushing my hair.
The music box playing.
Me asking why one brass star on the lid was darker than the others.
Her answer.
Because every family has one star that loses its light.
I opened my eyes.
“The dark star.”
On the lid were seven brass stars.
One had tarnished almost black.
Vincent pressed it.
Nothing.
I turned the winding key while holding the star.
Click.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was no money.
No password.
Just a strip of photographic film.
Vincent developed it digitally.
The images showed handwritten pages.
Sebastian’s ledger.
But the last photograph was different.
A legal document.
TRUST SUCCESSION AGREEMENT.
The Romano reserve trust had three possible beneficiaries.
Alexander.
Julian.
And Gabriel Vale.
That explained Gabriel’s connection.
Then we read the condition beneath it.
If all three beneficiaries died or became legally incapacitated, control transferred to the trust administrator.
Sebastian Vale.
Julian stared.
“So he poisons Alexander, frames me, eliminates Gabriel and gets four hundred million dollars.”
“More than that,” Vincent said.
“Control over the holding companies connected to the trust.”
Alexander remained silent.
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The plan is too obvious.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“I’m glad attempted fratricide has become obvious.”
“Sebastian spent thirty years hiding this. He wouldn’t suddenly leave a clean trail.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Someone wants us focused on Sebastian.”
Vincent nodded.
“That fits what he said. Someone stole the music box before he could.”
“And returned it,” I added.
“Gabriel,” Julian said.
“Maybe.”
Alexander looked at the security logs again.
The music box had appeared on the library table during a nine-minute outage.
Who controlled the outage?
According to the system, Vincent.
He stared at the screen.
“I didn’t do this.”
Alexander looked at him.
Vincent’s face tightened.
“You think I did.”
“I think your credentials keep appearing whenever something happens.”
“Because Sebastian designed the system.”
“Or because you’re using that as cover.”
The accusation landed heavily.
Vincent had protected Alexander for eleven years.
He had been shot for him once.
He had slept outside Alexander’s hospital room after an assassination attempt six years earlier.
But Alexander had said it himself.
Nobody was innocent because he liked them.
Vincent slowly removed his access badge.
He placed it on the table.
Then his weapon.
“If you don’t trust me, remove me.”
Alexander studied him.
Julian said, “That seems sensible.”
Vincent ignored him.
“Do you trust me?”
Alexander’s expression remained unreadable.
“No.”
Vincent absorbed that.
Then Alexander added, “But I trust what you’ve done for eleven years more than what a compromised computer tells me.”
He pushed the badge back.
“Find who cloned your credentials.”
Vincent nodded.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Trust damaged.
Not broken.
An hour later, Vincent found the answer.
His access credentials had been duplicated using a physical security token.
Only one spare token existed.
It had been stored in Alexander’s private safe.
The safe showed no forced entry.
Only three people knew the combination.
Alexander.
Vincent.
And Alexander’s attorney.
Nathan Cole.
I had met Nathan many times.
Fifty-two.
Silver-haired.
Soft-spoken.
He handled every important Romano contract.
More significantly, Nathan had been Sebastian Vale’s legal protégé.
When we searched Nathan’s office, we found nothing suspicious.
Too nothing.
His desk was immaculate.
His computer freshly wiped.
His filing cabinets empty of personal material.
A man who had worked for Alexander for eighteen years seemed to have erased himself.
Then Eleanor noticed something.
“His family photographs.”
“What about them?”
“He always kept one on his desk.”
Gone.
Vincent checked Nathan’s house.
Empty.
Closets cleared.
Passport missing.
Nathan Cole was running.
Alexander ordered every airport, private terminal and marina watched.
At 6:40 p.m., Nathan’s car was found near Montauk.
Abandoned.
A ferry ticket sat on the passenger seat.
Too convenient.
“He wants us looking east,” Vincent said.
“Which means he’s going west,” Alexander replied.
I noticed a receipt beneath the seat.
A children’s clothing store.
Purchased that morning.
Size 6.
Julian saw it.
His face went white.
“Emily.”
He called London.
No answer.
Called the secure location where his daughter had been moved.
Nothing.
Finally a woman answered.
Crying.
Emily’s mother.
Their safe house had been entered.
Two guards were unconscious.
Emily was gone.
Julian dropped the phone.
For the first time, the charming younger Romano completely broke.
Alexander caught him before he fell.
“We’ll get her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
Alexander gripped his brother’s shoulders.
“Because I will burn every secret they have into daylight before I let them hurt your daughter.”
Julian looked at him.
“You hated me yesterday.”
“I was angry.”
“You thought I tried to kill you.”
“I still think you’re an idiot.”
A broken laugh escaped Julian.
Alexander pulled him into a brief embrace.
“We bring her home.”
The next clue came from the receipt.
The store had surveillance cameras.
Nathan had purchased the clothes.
But he wasn’t alone.
Standing beside him was a woman.
Silver-blonde hair.
Elegant black coat.
Elena.
The supposedly hidden aunt from the hallway footage.
Nathan handed her a phone.
She looked directly toward the store camera.
Then lifted one finger.
Pointing downward.
Vincent enhanced the image.
In her other hand, she held a newspaper.
Its front page featured an advertisement for an abandoned waterfront hotel scheduled for demolition.
Alexander stared.
“She wants us there.”
“Trap?” I asked.
“Obviously.”
Julian stood.
“I’m going.”
“So am I.”
Rebecca protested from the doorway.
“You can barely walk across the room.”
Alexander looked at me.
“Then Claire drives.”
I almost laughed.
“This is your strategy?”
“You’re the only person here everyone underestimates.”
Vincent handed me a set of keys.
“To what?”
Alexander smiled faintly.
“Something fast.”
Twenty minutes later I discovered that the mafia boss’s definition of something fast was a black armored sedan with an engine that sounded like thunder.
We headed toward the abandoned hotel.
Alexander beside me.
Vincent and Julian following.
Halfway there, Alexander spoke quietly.
“You said something while I was unconscious.”
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
Of all moments.
“You were delirious.”
“I wasn’t completely unconscious.”
My face burned.
“Alexander—”
“I heard you.”
Rain streaked across the windshield.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t want to.”
I glanced at him.
“Wonderful.”
His eyes softened.
“I want to wait until we survive tonight.”
My heart betrayed me by beating harder.
Then the hotel appeared ahead.
Dark windows.
Broken sign.
One light burning on the top floor.
Vincent’s voice came through the radio.
“Movement.”
Alexander reached toward the dashboard.
Then froze.
“What?”
He pointed.
A small red light blinked beneath the steering column.
Vincent shouted through the radio.
“Claire, stop the car!”
Alexander looked at the device.
“Don’t touch the brakes.”
“What?”
“Someone wired the vehicle.”
The accelerator stopped responding.
We were descending a steep road toward the waterfront.
Seventy miles per hour.
Sixty yards from a concrete barrier.
Alexander looked at me.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Do exactly what I tell you.”
May you like
And for the second time in forty-eight hours, I realized somebody had decided the easiest way to control Alexander Romano was to make sure I died beside him.
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