Chapter 4 - WHAT KHLOE SAW
Vincent cancelled every meeting the following morning.
That alone created panic across half the city.
Khloe didn't know that.
She was sitting at his kitchen table with three butterfly bandages across her palm while Vincent made scrambled eggs.
She stared.
“Do you actually cook?”
He didn't turn.
“Why is everyone surprised by this?”
“Because you have thirty-two rooms.”
“What does that have to do with eggs?”
“I haven't worked out the connection yet.”
Vincent placed a plate in front of her.
“Eat.”
“You sound like a prison warden.”
“You're free to starve.”
Khloe took a bite.
Then another.
“These are annoyingly good.”
Vincent sat opposite her.
For a few minutes, neither spoke.
The quiet felt different now.
Not employer and employee.
Not quite friends.
Something unnamed had begun growing in the space between them.
Vincent finally opened Khloe's sketchbook.
“The man last night believed you remember something.”
“I remember lots of things.”
“Think about anything unusual you saw at work over the last two years.”
Khloe leaned back.
There had been arguments.
Strange visitors.
Locked offices.
But one memory surfaced.
“Last December.”
Vincent waited.
“I stayed late before Christmas because Paulie said the customs files needed to be reorganized.”
“What happened?”
“I went downstairs for coffee around eleven.”
She closed her eyes.
“There were men in Warehouse C.”
Vincent's expression changed.
Warehouse C had officially been empty that night.
“How many?”
“Maybe six.”
“Did you recognize anyone?”
“Mr. Voss.”
Daniel.
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“And?”
Khloe hesitated.
“There was another man.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Describe him.”
“Older. Gray hair. Expensive coat. He had a ring.”
“What kind?”
Khloe reached for her sketchbook.
She began drawing.
Vincent watched her hand move.
A circle.
A crest.
Three waves beneath a crown.
Gabriel entered halfway through and stopped.
“Vincent.”
Vincent looked up.
Gabriel had gone pale.
“What?”
“That crest.”
“You recognize it?”
Gabriel nodded.
“Judge Holloway.”
Khloe looked between them.
“Judge?”
Vincent stood.
Samuel Holloway was one of the most respected federal judges in Illinois.
He was also the man who had dismissed three organized-crime cases against Vincent's rivals.
Suddenly the conspiracy looked larger.
Daniel wasn't simply stealing.
He was laundering money through harbor development contracts with protection from inside the justice system.
“Did they see you?” Vincent asked.
“No.”
“You're sure?”
Khloe's face changed.
“Actually…”
“What?”
“I dropped my coffee.”
Vincent swore.
“I ran before anyone came outside.”
“Did Paulie know?”
“He found me near the elevators.”
Everything clicked.
Paulie had known Khloe was there.
For months, he'd kept her close.
Overworked.
Watched.
Maybe he'd been waiting to learn whether she'd understood what she saw.
Then the zoning deal approached.
Someone decided she had become a liability.
Vincent walked toward the window.
Khloe watched him.
“You're blaming yourself.”
He turned.
She continued before courage abandoned her.
“You are.”
“You don't know what I'm thinking.”
“You make the same face when quarterly numbers are bad.”
Vincent stared.
“You've studied my face?”
Khloe immediately regretted the sentence.
“For professional reasons.”
“Of course.”
Gabriel looked fascinated by the ceiling.
Vincent's amusement faded.
“I built the environment that put you in danger.”
“You also put a blanket over me instead of throwing me outside.”
“That doesn't erase anything.”
“No.”
Khloe stood.
“But maybe what you do next matters more.”
The words struck somewhere Vincent had kept sealed for years.
His father had taught him that power meant ensuring nobody could ever hurt you twice.
Khloe seemed to believe power could mean choosing what kind of man you became after someone tried.
That afternoon, Vincent did something nobody expected.
He contacted federal prosecutor Rebecca Sloan.
Not a corrupt judge.
Not a friendly detective.
A prosecutor famous for trying to dismantle organizations like his.
Gabriel thought he'd lost his mind.
Vincent didn't.
He offered Sloan evidence on Daniel Voss, Holloway, and the laundering network.
In exchange, Vincent demanded protection for Khloe and immunity for employees uninvolved in violent crimes.
Sloan laughed at the first offer.
Then Vincent sent her one bank ledger.
She stopped laughing.
They arranged a meeting.
But Daniel moved first.
At 6:40 p.m., Khloe's phone rang.
Her mother's name appeared.
Khloe answered immediately.
“Mom?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
“Miss Evans.”
Khloe froze.
Vincent saw her face.
The voice continued.
“You took something that doesn't belong to you.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Neither does your mother.”
Khloe's knees weakened.
Vincent took the phone.
“If you touch her—”
“Mr. Costa.”
Daniel Voss sounded almost amused.
“So the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?”
“That you've become sentimental.”
Vincent's eyes went cold.
Daniel laughed softly.
“Bring me the sketchbook and every copy of the harbor documents.”
“Where?”
“Old Pier Seventeen. Midnight.”
The line went dead.
Khloe stared at Vincent.
“My mother.”
“We'll get her.”
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
Vincent stepped closer.
Because he had spent his entire life making promises people feared.
This promise felt different.
May you like
He gently closed Khloe's shaking fingers around his.
“Because this time,” he said, “I'm making the promise to you.”
