Chapter 3 - The Secret Damon Was Ordered to Keep
Alina returned to her room before either man left the office.
She did not sleep.
By sunrise, anger had replaced fear.
Damon knew more than he admitted.
She waited until six.
Then she walked into his office without knocking.
Damon looked up.
His expression hardened.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You’ve knocked every day for two years.”
“I heard you last night.”
Silence.
Viktor stood near the shelves.
Damon dismissed him with a glance.
When the door closed, Alina stepped toward the desk.
“You lied.”
“I withheld information.”
“That’s a polished word for lying.”
Damon leaned back.
“You were listening outside my office.”
“You moved me across from your bedroom because someone was watching me. Forgive me for becoming curious when I heard my own name.”
He said nothing.
“What happened to my father?”
“I don’t know where he went.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Damon’s jaw tightened.
Alina placed both palms on his desk.
“What did your family do?”
“My family suspected your father betrayed mine.”
Her face drained.
“Betrayed?”
“Someone gave information to our enemies.”
“My father wouldn’t.”
“You were nine.”
“I knew him.”
“You knew your father. You didn’t know his work.”
“Neither did you.”
“No.”
That stopped her.
Damon stood.
“My father believed Nikolai was innocent.”
Alina frowned.
“Then why—”
“My uncle didn’t.”
“Which uncle?”
“Sergei.”
She had heard that name.
Everyone had.
Sergei Vulkoff had disappeared from the organization shortly after Mikhail’s death.
“What did Sergei do?”
Damon stared at her.
“He ordered Nikolai taken.”
Alina’s knees weakened.
“Taken where?”
“No record exists.”
“You expect me to accept that?”
“No.”
“Did he kill him?”
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes burned.
“You had two years to tell me.”
“I didn’t know who you were until six months ago.”
“Six months, then.”
Damon stepped closer.
“What would you have done?”
“I would have asked questions.”
“Exactly.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Someone killed my father for those secrets.”
His voice lowered.
“If they believed Nikolai gave something to his daughter, asking questions could have gotten you killed.”
Alina stared at him.
“You thought you were protecting me?”
“Yes.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You don’t get to decide what truth I’m allowed to know.”
“No.”
For once Damon did not argue.
“You’re right.”
The admission surprised her.
He continued.
“But I would make the same decision again.”
“Of course you would.”
Alina turned.
“Where are you going?”
“To work.”
“You’re relieved of duties.”
She spun around.
“What?”
“Until this is resolved.”
“You can’t lock me in a bedroom.”
“I’m not.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“You can move around the estate.”
“That isn’t freedom.”
“It’s temporary.”
Alina stared at him.
“I quit.”
Something flickered across Damon’s face.
“No.”
“You don’t get to reject a resignation.”
“I just did.”
She almost laughed.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re angry.”
“I wonder why.”
“Be angry.”
Damon moved closer.
“But stay alive while doing it.”
She hated that some part of her understood.
She hated more that part of her cared about the concern in his eyes.
Three days passed.
Alina stopped delivering coffee.
Sloan did it instead.
Damon never commented.
Alina spent her time searching.
Old newspapers.
Archived records.
Anything mentioning Nikolai Arsenov.
Almost nothing existed.
Then Father Anton called.
“Alina?”
She sat upright.
“Father?”
“You asked me last week about your father.”
“Yes.”
“I found something.”
Her pulse quickened.
“What?”
“He left an envelope here.”
“When?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
Alina could barely breathe.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t know it existed. Father Michael stored it in the old parish safe.”
“Can I come?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Alina looked toward the corridor.
Damon would never allow her to go alone.
So she didn’t ask.
Sloan helped her leave through the laundry entrance.
“You’re going to get me fired,” Sloan whispered.
“I’ll hire you when I’m rich.”
“With what money?”
“My imaginary fortune.”
“Wonderful.”
Alina hugged her.
“Thank you.”
She reached the chapel shortly after noon.
Father Anton waited.
He gave her a small envelope.
The handwriting belonged to her father.
Alina.
Her hands shook.
Inside was a key.
Nothing else.
“What does it open?”
Father Anton asked.
“I don’t know.”
Then the chapel door opened.
Damon entered.
Alina closed her eyes.
“Of course.”
Father Anton wisely vanished toward the sacristy.
Damon walked down the aisle.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I was hoping.”
“You bribed Sloan?”
“She volunteered.”
“She’s getting a raise.”
Alina blinked.
“What?”
“She bypassed three guards. I’m impressed.”
Despite herself, Alina almost smiled.
Damon noticed the key.
“What’s that?”
“My father left it.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
He examined it.
“A deposit-box key.”
“You recognize it?”
“Yes.”
They drove to a private bank downtown.
The box belonged to a shell company connected to Nikolai.
Inside sat one object.
A ledger.
Damon went completely still.
“What?”
He opened it.
Names.
Payments.
Dates.
Alina watched his face grow colder with every page.
“What is it?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
“Your father wasn’t betraying mine.”
Alina’s heart pounded.
“Then who was?”
Damon turned the ledger toward her.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Sergei Vulkoff.
But another name appeared beside his.
Someone Alina knew.
Someone still living in the mansion.
Sloan Mercer.
Alina stared at the page.
“No.”
Damon looked equally stunned.
The woman who had protected Alina for two years was listed in her father’s secret ledger.
Not once.
Dozens of times.
May you like
And beside Sloan’s name were two words.
Witness alive.
