Chapter 11 - The Friend Who Pointed the Gun at Me
My first reaction wasn’t fear.
It was disbelief.
Emily stood beneath the warehouse lights holding a handgun with both hands.
Her face was wet with tears.
“Clare.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Put it down.”
“I can’t.”
Kathryn stood beside her.
She looked nothing like the HR director who had calmly fired me.
No desk.
No professional smile.
Just cold satisfaction.
“You should have stayed fired,” she said.
Dominic moved slightly toward me.
Emily raised the gun.
“Don’t.”
I looked at her.
“You’re shaking.”
“Clare, please.”
“Why?”
Her face crumpled.
Kathryn answered.
“Because her sister owes people money.”
Emily closed her eyes.
My stomach dropped.
“Rachel?”
Emily had a younger sister.
Twenty-four.
History of bad relationships and worse financial decisions.
Emily whispered, “Anthony’s people own the debt.”
“How much?”
“Clare—”
“How much?”
“Seventy thousand.”
I stared at her.
“You betrayed all of us for seventy thousand dollars?”
“No!”
“Then explain.”
“They said they’d hurt her.”
Kathryn rolled her eyes.
“Emotional.”
Dominic’s gaze stayed on Anthony.
“You used the sister.”
Anthony shrugged.
“Everyone has leverage.”
I looked at Emily.
“Did you give them the flash drive?”
“No.”
“Did you tell them about my storage unit?”
Silence.
My chest hurt.
“Emily.”
“Yes.”
That betrayal cut deeper than the gun.
“You knew they shot at my apartment.”
“I didn’t know they would.”
“You gave them my address?”
“I thought they already had it.”
“Stop.”
She cried harder.
“I was trying to keep Rachel alive.”
I thought of Michael.
My mother.
Dominic.
Everyone lying for love.
Everyone hurting someone because they believed they were protecting someone else.
Maybe that was the ugliest kind of tragedy.
People rarely called themselves villains.
They called themselves protectors.
Anthony extended his hand.
“Ledger.”
Dominic didn’t move.
“Michael first.”
Anthony pushed my father forward.
Michael stumbled.
I started toward him.
Kathryn raised her own gun.
“Stay.”
Dominic said quietly, “Clare.”
I stopped.
Anthony smiled.
“Good boy.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
He held out the ledger.
Anthony stepped forward.
Then Michael laughed.
Everyone looked at him.
Anthony frowned.
“What?”
Michael smiled through a split lip.
“You really never learned.”
“Learned what?”
“The ledger was never the weapon.”
Anthony’s face changed.
Michael continued.
“The copies were.”
Police sirens exploded outside.
Anthony spun toward the doors.
Dominic moved.
Everything happened at once.
Rafael’s men entered through the side.
Federal agents came through the main doors.
Emily dropped her gun.
Kathryn fired.
The shot went wild.
Dominic pulled me behind a steel column.
Anthony grabbed Michael.
For one terrifying second, I saw a gun against my father’s neck.
Then Michael drove his elbow backward.
Anthony stumbled.
Rafael tackled him.
The gun slid across the floor.
Kathryn ran.
Emily shouted, “She has another gun!”
I saw Kathryn raise it toward Dominic.
No time.
I shoved him.
The shot fired.
Pain tore through my shoulder.
I hit the floor.
“CLARE!”
Dominic’s voice was the last thing I heard before everything went black.
When I woke, fluorescent lights were above me.
For one horrifying second, I thought I was back at Lakeview.
Then I recognized Mercer.
“You have got to stop collecting gunshot wounds in my presence.”
I tried to sit up.
Pain stopped me.
“Dominic?”
“Fine.”
“My dad?”
“Fine.”
“Emily?”
“Alive.”
“Anthony?”
Mercer smiled.
“Very much under arrest.”
I exhaled.
The bullet had passed through my upper shoulder.
Painful.
Messy.
But no major artery or nerve damage.
Lucky.
The door opened.
Dominic entered.
He looked terrible.
Again.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His hair disordered.
And for the first time, I saw him without control.
He sat beside the bed.
“You pushed me.”
“Yes.”
“That was stupid.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Clare.”
“What?”
“Never do that again.”
I smiled weakly.
“I’ll check my schedule.”
He stared at me.
Then he took my hand.
Carefully.
Like he was afraid I might disappear.
“You could have died.”
“So could Luca.”
“That was different.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it is.”
“Why?”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then said quietly, “Because it was you.”
Neither of us moved.
My heart did something medically embarrassing.
I looked away.
“Where’s my father?”
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“He thinks you hate him.”
“I don’t know what I think.”
“That’s fair.”
Dominic stood.
Before leaving, he leaned down and pressed his forehead briefly against mine.
No kiss.
Something somehow more intimate.
Then he walked away.
Michael entered.
He stood near the door.
“You look like your mother when you’re angry.”
“I’ve been told.”
He sat.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Finally, I asked, “Why didn’t you come back after Anthony was arrested?”
“He wasn’t arrested until tonight.”
“You could have contacted me secretly.”
“I watched you.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
“I needed a father.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
“You missed everything.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get those years back.”
“No.”
I hated how easily he accepted every accusation.
Then he said, “I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“What do you expect?”
“Nothing.”
That hurt too.
I looked at him.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
“I understand.”
“But if you disappear again…”
His eyes widened slightly.
“…I’ll never forgive you.”
For the first time, he smiled.
Small.
Broken.
Hopeful.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Outside the room, federal agents questioned Dominic.
Anthony and Kathryn were in custody.
The evidence was enough to open investigations across multiple companies and hospitals.
It should have felt finished.
It didn’t.
Because when Rafael entered an hour later, his face was grim.
“What happened?”
He handed Dominic a phone.
A secure message.
One sentence.
ANTHONY WASN’T THE ONE WHO ORDERED LUCA’S SHOOTING.
May you like
Underneath was a photograph.
Dr. Jonathan Weber.
