Chapter 4 - The Things Powerful Families Hide
Alaric spent the next week proving that trust could be built through absence.
He did not ask Zoe to forgive the connection between Daniel and Ferrante Maritime.
He did not demand she believe he knew nothing.
He gave Sabine every company record she requested and told Zoe she could show them to Norah.
That mattered.
The records led to Emil.
Not directly.
Men like Emil Ferrante apparently survived by ensuring nothing ever led directly to them.
The shell company that paid Daniel had rented warehouse space from a logistics subsidiary controlled by a man named Victor Hale.
Victor had worked for Emil for 18 years.
Zoe stared at the page until the letters blurred.
“Why would your uncle care about Harrowgate?”
Alaric leaned against the library window.
“I don't know.”
“That answer is getting old.”
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“You really don't know?”
“No.”
“Does that bother you?”
“More than you understand.”
For Alaric, ignorance was vulnerability.
Zoe was beginning to understand him.
That frightened her.
She also began understanding Celeste.
One rainy afternoon, Zoe found her alone in the conservatory.
“I owe you an apology,” Celeste said.
“For what?”
“The dinner.”
Zoe waited.
“Emil told me about Harrowgate. He wanted me to mention it.”
“Why?”
“To see Alaric's reaction.”
Zoe's stomach tightened.
“And?”
Celeste smiled sadly.
“He reacted.”
“There's nothing between us.”
“I didn't say there was.”
Zoe looked away.
Celeste surprised her by laughing.
“For someone trained to read people, you're terrible when the person is yourself.”
Zoe disliked her considerably less after that.
She learned Celeste's family owned Baron Shipping, one of Ferrante Maritime's oldest partners. Karen and Emil had spent years imagining a marriage between Celeste and Alaric would stabilize both companies.
“And Alaric?”
“Alaric would rather marry a tax audit.”
Zoe laughed before she could stop herself.
Celeste smiled.
“There. That's probably why.”
“Why what?”
But Celeste only picked up her coat.
That evening, Reese had another panic attack.
This one was worse.
Zoe found him in the upstairs hallway, sitting against the wall.
Alaric was already there.
He crouched several feet away.
Not touching.
Not ordering.
Just waiting.
Zoe stopped.
Alaric glanced at her.
“What do I do?”
The question was quiet.
Reese heard it.
So did Zoe.
The most powerful man in the house was openly admitting he did not know.
“Nothing yet,” Zoe said.
She sat beside Alaric.
Together they breathed slowly.
After several minutes, Reese's shoulders loosened.
His hand moved across the carpet.
Alaric looked at it.
“Can I?”
Reese nodded.
Alaric took his brother's hand.
Zoe looked away because suddenly the moment felt private.
Later, in the kitchen, Alaric found her making tea.
“You taught me that.”
“I sat on a floor.”
“You taught me not to fix him.”
Zoe looked at him.
“That can be harder.”
“For me, apparently.”
She smiled.
Alaric reached toward her face, then stopped before touching her.
The pause changed everything.
“May I?”
Zoe's breath caught.
There was a strand of hair against her cheek.
Nothing more.
Still, he had asked.
She nodded.
His fingers brushed the strand behind her ear.
Barely a touch.
Her heart behaved as if something enormous had happened.
Alaric withdrew immediately.
“Good night, Zoe.”
She watched him leave.
At 1:12 a.m., she called Norah.
“I think I like him.”
Silence.
Then:
“The mafia boss?”
“Could you say it less loudly?”
“You're calling me.”
“The walls feel judgmental.”
Norah groaned.
“Zoe.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
That honesty saved them both an argument.
Norah finally said, “Liking someone isn't trusting them.”
“I know.”
“And trusting someone isn't owing them anything.”
“I know.”
“And if he ever makes you feel trapped—”
“I leave.”
“Good.”
Zoe stared at the kitchen doorway where Alaric had disappeared.
“But he doesn't.”
That was the problem.
Daniel had made love feel like a room whose doors slowly disappeared.
Alaric, for all his frightening reputation, kept showing her where the exits were.
Three mornings later, the past finally knocked.
Literally.
Zoe was polishing the brass handles near the front entrance when the bell rang.
Iris opened the door.
A man stood beneath the stone portico.
Dark coat.
Brown hair touched with gray at the temples.
The same careful smile Zoe had once imagined seeing across from her at 80.
The cloth fell from her hand.
Daniel Mercer looked at her.
“Hi, Zo.”
Her entire body went numb.
Behind her, a chair moved.
Alaric had been in the adjoining room.
Daniel saw him.
His smile disappeared.
May you like
Then he looked back at Zoe and said the words that reopened every wound she had spent a year learning to survive.
“I can prove you were innocent.”
