Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO CAME BACK
Sloane Mercer arrived at Claire's office without an appointment.
She wore a cream coat and carried a small leather handbag.
She looked exactly like the woman Claire remembered from old photographs.
Beautiful.
Confident.
Untouchable.
Claire didn't offer her a seat.
“What do you want?”
Sloane smiled.
“To talk.”
“About Vincent?”
“About everything.”
Claire folded her arms.
“You have five minutes.”
Sloane looked around.
“You've changed.”
“I've learned.”
“That's what I mean.”
Claire waited.
Sloane sighed.
“I never expected him to do it publicly.”
“Do what?”
“Leave you.”
Claire laughed softly.
“You're disappointed?”
“No.”
Sloane's eyes dropped.
“I'm worried.”
That answer surprised Claire.
“Why?”
“Because Vincent doesn't know what he's doing.”
Claire studied her.
“You were paid twenty-eight million dollars.”
Sloane's expression changed.
“So you found that.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't keep it.”
Claire frowned.
“What?”
“Most of it went somewhere else.”
“Where?”
Sloane hesitated.
“Offshore.”
Claire's instincts sharpened.
“Who controls the account?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to understand that Vincent is not the man you think he is.”
Claire stepped closer.
“You've spent six months sleeping beside him.”
Sloane's eyes filled with anger.
“I never slept with your husband.”
Claire froze.
“What?”
“I came back because someone hired me.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why help them?”
“Because they threatened my brother.”
Claire said nothing.
Sloane opened her handbag.
She removed a flash drive.
“I started investigating them six weeks ago.”
She placed it on the desk.
“Your father was investigating the same people before he died.”
Claire's pulse accelerated.
“What people?”
Sloane lowered her voice.
“The Black Harbor Group.”
Claire had never heard the name.
“They control private investment firms, shipping routes, political donors, security companies.”
“Criminal organization?”
“Something bigger.”
Sloane looked toward the door.
“They don't care about Vincent.”
Claire frowned.
“Then why destroy him?”
“They need access to something Vincent controls.”
“What?”
Sloane looked at her.
“You.”
Claire felt a chill.
Before she could respond, the lights went out.
The office plunged into darkness.
A crash came from the hallway.
Sloane grabbed Claire's arm.
“Don't move.”
Claire whispered.
“What is happening?”
“Someone is inside.”
A door slammed.
Footsteps approached.
Claire's heart hammered.
Then the lights returned.
The hallway was empty.
But the window had been shattered.
A bullet had struck the wall beside Claire's desk.
Sloane pulled her down.
Security personnel rushed inside.
Daniel followed.
“Mrs. Hale!”
Claire was breathing hard.
“I'm fine.”
Sloane pointed toward the broken window.
“That wasn't a warning.”
Daniel looked at the glass.
“No.”
He crouched near the wall.
“Someone wanted her dead.”
Claire stared at the bullet hole.
Then at Sloane.
“Why didn't they shoot you?”
Sloane's face became pale.
“Because I wasn't the target.”
The office fell silent.
Claire looked at the flash drive.
“What is on this?”
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“Your father's death wasn't an accident.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“What?”
Sloane swallowed.
“Your father was investigating Black Harbor.”
“And they killed him?”
“I think so.”
Claire turned away.
Her father had died in a car accident eleven years earlier.
She had never questioned it.
Never.
She remembered the funeral.
The rain.
Her mother's hands.
Vincent standing beside her.
Vincent telling her that life sometimes took people before they were ready.
Now every memory felt different.
Claire looked at Sloane.
“Why didn't you tell me earlier?”
“Because I wasn't sure who I could trust.”
“And now?”
Sloane looked toward the bullet hole.
“Now I know we don't have much time.”
That night, Claire met Nicholas Moretti.
The meeting took place in a private restaurant overlooking the Chicago River.
Nicholas sat alone.
He was younger than Claire expected.
Early thirties.
Dark suit.
Calm eyes.
No visible security.
Yet Claire knew at least eight armed men were somewhere nearby.
He stood when she approached.
“Mrs. Hale.”
“Claire.”
He nodded.
“Claire.”
She sat.
“Why did my father save your life?”
Nicholas looked at the river.
“Because your father believed people could be worth saving even when the world had decided they weren't.”
Claire said nothing.
“He found me bleeding behind a warehouse seventeen years ago.”
Nicholas continued.
“I was nineteen.”
“What happened?”
“I was stupid.”
Claire almost smiled.
“You were nineteen.”
Nicholas looked at her.
“Your father helped me disappear.”
“And now you're helping me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I made a promise.”
“To my father?”
Nicholas nodded.
“What promise?”
“That if his daughter ever needed me, I would answer.”
Claire studied him.
“Do I need you?”
Nicholas's expression didn't change.
“You will.”
Before she could respond, his phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
Then at Claire.
“Someone just accessed your father's trust.”
Claire's blood ran cold.
“Who?”
Nicholas stood.
“We need to leave.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because whoever did it now knows exactly where you are.”
