Chapter 2 - The Photograph Her Mother Never Mentioned
Maeve had spent seventeen years believing her mother had left nothing behind except debt, three boxes of clothes, and a collection of unanswered questions.
Now one of those questions was sitting in her bedroom.
His name was Arthur Romano.
And apparently, her mother had known him.
Maeve stared at the photograph.
“This is fake.”
“It isn't.”
“My mother was a receptionist.”
Arthur said nothing.
“At an insurance company.”
Still nothing.
“She didn't know people like you.”
Arthur slowly sat higher against the pillow.
“You have no idea who your mother knew.”
Maeve's anger rose.
“Then tell me.”
Arthur glanced toward the window.
“Close the curtains.”
“Tell me.”
“Curtains first.”
Maeve hated that she obeyed.
When she returned, Arthur was examining Nero's collar.
“You rescued him before me.”
“He was nicer.”
“He usually isn't.”
Maeve folded her arms.
“Start talking.”
Arthur studied her.
“Your mother worked for my father.”
Maeve laughed once.
“No.”
“Evelyn Nolan handled financial records for Romano Maritime.”
“She worked in insurance.”
“That was what she told you.”
Maeve stared at him.
Arthur continued.
“She discovered money disappearing from several legitimate companies.”
“Stolen by your family?”
“From my family.”
That surprised her.
“My father believed someone inside his organization was building a separate network. Your mother found evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“A ledger.”
Maeve's expression changed.
Arthur noticed.
“You've heard that word before.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
“Maybe I learned it from a book.”
“Maeve.”
She looked away.
There had been something.
A childhood memory.
Her mother standing in their kitchen late at night.
Burning papers in a saucepan.
Maeve had been eleven.
“What are you doing, Mom?”
“Cleaning.”
“What's that book?”
Her mother's face had changed.
She had grabbed Maeve's shoulders.
“If anyone ever asks you about a ledger, you have never seen one.”
Maeve had forgotten.
Or convinced herself she had.
Until now.
“My mother mentioned one once.”
Arthur became very still.
“When?”
She told him.
Arthur exhaled.
“Then she had it.”
“Had what?”
“The V Ledger.”
Maeve looked at the lighter.
“V.”
“Not five.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Vanguard.”
“What is Vanguard?”
“The reason I was behind your diner.”
He explained.
Twenty years earlier, five men had quietly created a network of shell corporations used to hide money, influence contracts, and buy cooperation from people who preferred cash to conscience.
Arthur's father had eventually tried to dismantle it.
Someone stopped him.
Years later, Arthur inherited what remained.
For twelve years, he had been searching for the ledger containing the names behind Vanguard.
Then, three nights ago, someone contacted him.
The message contained one sentence:
Evelyn Nolan's daughter has what you need.
“And you came to Carmichael's?”
“Yes.”
“To find me?”
“Yes.”
“Then somebody grabbed you.”
Arthur nodded.
“They knew where I would be.”
Maeve felt cold.
“So the message was a trap.”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
Arthur looked directly at her.
“They still believe you have the ledger.”
“I don't.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe.”
A floorboard creaked outside.
Nero's head snapped toward the apartment door.
Arthur instantly went silent.
Maeve whispered, “What?”
Nero walked toward the door.
No barking.
Just listening.
Then someone knocked.
Three soft knocks.
Maeve moved toward it.
Arthur grabbed her arm.
“No.”
“Could be my neighbor.”
“At four in the morning?”
Another knock.
“Maeve Nolan?”
A man's voice.
Arthur got out of bed despite the pain.
He whispered, “Bathroom.”
Maeve shook her head.
“I'm not hiding in my bathroom.”
“Then stay behind me.”
She almost laughed.
“You can barely stand.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Standing isn't the dangerous part.”
The knocking stopped.
Silence.
Then footsteps moved away.
Arthur waited thirty seconds before opening the door.
Empty hallway.
Something rested on the floor.
An envelope.
Maeve picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
Inside was a photograph.
Maeve at work.
Taken yesterday.
Another.
Maeve grocery shopping.
Another.
Maeve entering her apartment.
Someone had been following her.
At the bottom was a note.
ASK ARTHUR WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR MOTHER.
Maeve slowly turned.
Arthur's face had changed.
“You know.”
He didn't answer.
“You know how she died.”
“Maeve—”
“My mother died in a car accident.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“No.”
One word.
Seventeen years of certainty collapsed.
“What do you mean, no?”
Arthur's voice became quieter.
“Her brakes were sabotaged.”
Maeve's knees nearly gave out.
“You knew?”
“I learned afterward.”
“And you never told me?”
“You were eleven.”
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“All these years?”
“Yes.”
The room seemed too small.
“Did you watch me?”
Arthur didn't answer quickly enough.
Maeve understood.
“Oh my God.”
“From a distance.”
“You had people watching me?”
“To keep you alive.”
“You don't get to say that like it makes this normal!”
Nero lowered his head.
Arthur remained still.
Maeve grabbed her coat.
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere you aren't.”
“Maeve, don't leave.”
“Why? Because someone might kill me?”
“Yes.”
She reached for the door.
Arthur said:
“Your mother's killer is still alive.”
Maeve stopped.
“And I know his name.”
She slowly turned.
Arthur's expression was cold now.
Not weak.
Not injured.
Something else.
“Who?”
Before he could answer, Nero growled.
Not at the door.
At the window.
Maeve turned.
Across the street, inside a parked black sedan, someone raised a camera.
Flash.
Arthur moved instantly.
He pulled Maeve away from the window.
The sedan accelerated.
Maeve landed against him.
His hand protected the back of her head.
For a second, neither moved.
Then Arthur whispered:
“They found us.”
Maeve looked at him.
“Who?”
Arthur's answer changed everything.
May you like
“My brother.”
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