Chapter 9 - The Price of Asking Questions
Sebastian watched the security footage three times.
Sofia opened the gate.
Vittorio’s car passed through.
She climbed into the passenger seat.
They disappeared into the night.
Clare stood behind him.
“Maybe there’s an explanation.”
“There always is.”
“You don’t believe she betrayed you?”
Sebastian looked at the frozen image of his sister.
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
Twenty minutes later Sofia called.
Sebastian answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Don’t send anyone.”
“Where are you?”
“Vittorio told me he has proof Father ordered the surgery.”
Sebastian’s face went still.
“Where?”
“A warehouse near the river.”
Clare whispered, “It’s a trap.”
Sebastian knew.
So did Sofia.
Her voice broke.
“He said he’ll give me the documents if I come alone.”
“You didn’t come alone. He’s with you.”
“I thought I could get him to talk.”
“Put him on.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
A pause.
“He left.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.
“Send your location.”
“No.”
“Sofia.”
“There are men outside.”
Sebastian’s expression changed instantly.
“Lock the doors.”
“There aren’t any locks.”
The call ended.
Sebastian was already moving.
Clare stepped in front of him.
“You’re not going yourself.”
“My sister is there.”
“You’re in a wheelchair and possibly days away from major spinal surgery.”
He met her eyes.
“And?”
“And wanting revenge doesn’t make you bulletproof.”
His expression almost softened.
“You really have no idea who you’re talking to.”
“I know exactly who I’m talking to. A patient.”
Carlo entered.
“I’ll bring her back.”
Sebastian stared at him.
“You’ve hidden enough from me.”
“Which is why I’m going.”
Sebastian studied him for a long moment.
Then nodded.
Adrian and Carlo left with security.
Clare expected Sebastian to rage.
Instead he went quiet.
She preferred rage.
“You should sleep.”
“No.”
“You should eat.”
“No.”
“You’re terrible at being a patient.”
“I’ve had twenty years of practice.”
She sat across from him.
“What were you going to do before the accident?”
The question surprised him.
“What?”
“Sofia said you were leaving Chicago.”
His gaze drifted toward the window.
“I wanted to build hotels.”
Clare blinked.
“Hotels?”
“Legitimate ones.”
“That sounds disappointingly normal.”
“I was twenty-three.”
“What changed?”
“My father said Lombardis don’t leave.”
“And you disagreed.”
“I told him I’d rather lose the family than lose myself.”
Clare understood the weight of that sentence.
The next morning, someone had apparently made sure Sebastian would never be able to leave at all.
His phone rang.
Carlo.
They had found Sofia.
Alive.
Shaken.
Vittorio gone.
But Sofia had recovered something from his car before escaping.
A folder.
Inside was a payment record from the year of Sebastian’s surgery.
One million dollars transferred to Dr. Arthur Bell.
Two hundred thousand to Thomas Vale.
And five million to an account controlled by Carlo DeLuca.
Sebastian stared at the page.
Clare felt the floor fall out beneath them.
Carlo returned an hour later.
Sebastian was waiting.
The payment record lay on his desk.
“Five million dollars,” Sebastian said.
Carlo stopped.
“Sebastian—”
“Tell me why the man I trusted with my life received five million dollars after the surgery that put me in this chair.”
Carlo looked at Clare.
Then at Sofia.
Then back to Sebastian.
“Because the money wasn’t payment.”
“What was it?”
Carlo’s voice became rough.
“It was ransom.”
“For whom?”
Carlo closed his eyes.
“For you.”
May you like
And what he explained next would destroy the final version of Sebastian’s past that he still believed.
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