Chapter 2 - THE NAME ON THE BACK OF THE PHOTOGRAPH
For several seconds, I forgot about my ankle.
I forgot the rain.
I forgot that I was sitting beside a man whose name made restaurant owners lower their voices.
All I could see was Emma’s name.
“Take me home.”
Luca didn’t move.
“Now.”
“Ava—”
“My daughter is there.”
“With Mrs. Chen. Two of my men are already outside the building.”
My head snapped toward him.
“You put men outside my apartment?”
“I put them there after Jake appeared.”
“You’ve been watching me.”
“I’ve been watching him.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” Luca said. “It isn’t.”
I grabbed the photograph.
“Who is the man with Jake?”
Luca hesitated.
That frightened me more than an immediate answer would have.
“Victor Sloane.”
I knew the name.
Everyone in Seattle knew Sloane Development. Their silver logo hung over luxury towers from Bellevue to downtown Seattle.
“What does a billionaire developer want with Jake?”
“Jake stole something from him.”
“Money?”
“Information.”
I laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“Jake couldn’t keep track of his own car keys.”
“He was better at pretending to be stupid than you realized.”
That hurt because it sounded possible.
Jake had entered my life five years earlier with cheap flowers and an easy smile. He had made pancakes badly, danced with me in grocery-store aisles, and cried when Emma was born.
Then my mother died.
Three months later, the inheritance she had left me disappeared.
So did Jake.
$186,000.
Every dollar.
I had spent eighteen months believing he had abandoned us for money.
Now Luca was telling me there had been something else.
“What information?”
“A ledger.”
“What kind of ledger?”
“The kind people kill for.”
The SUV turned sharply.
I recognized my neighborhood.
“Faster,” I whispered.
Dante glanced back from the front seat.
“We’re two minutes out.”
Luca’s phone vibrated.
He answered immediately.
“Speak.”
I watched his expression change.
Not dramatically.
That was worse.
His jaw simply locked.
“When?”
A pause.
“Keep her inside.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
He ended the call.
“Someone approached your building.”
“Who?”
“They left before my men could stop them.”
I reached for the door again.
“Ava.”
“My baby is in there!”
“So am I.”
I stared at him.
He said it without arrogance.
Without softness either.
Like a fact.
The SUV stopped.
I was out before Dante could open the door.
Pain tore through my ankle.
I nearly fell on the sidewalk, but Luca caught me.
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Pretending pain disappears because you’re busy.”
I shoved him away and limped toward the entrance.
Mrs. Chen opened my apartment door before I reached it.
“Ava!”
“Emma?”
“Asleep.”
I pushed past her.
My apartment was tiny enough that I could see Emma’s bedroom from the front door.
I stumbled inside.
My daughter lay beneath her yellow blanket, one hand curled beside her cheek.
Safe.
Breathing.
I covered my mouth.
Only then did my knees give out.
Luca caught me again.
This time I didn’t fight him.
For perhaps five seconds, I let myself lean against a dangerous stranger because I had nothing left.
Then Emma stirred.
“Mommy?”
I pulled away instantly.
“Hey, bug.”
She sat up, curls wild around her face.
“You’re home early.”
“Yeah.”
Her sleepy eyes moved past me.
Straight to Luca.
“Who’s that?”
Luca Castellano, allegedly one of the most dangerous men in Seattle, looked suddenly unprepared.
I almost laughed.
Almost.
“That’s Luca.”
Emma considered him.
“Are you Mommy’s friend?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Luca said simultaneously.
I glared at him.
Emma giggled.
Then she coughed.
The sound changed everything inside me.
I went to her immediately.
“Did Mrs. Chen give you your medicine?”
“She gave me the pink one.”
Mrs. Chen appeared behind us.
“She needs the new prescription tomorrow.”
“I know.”
Luca heard.
Of course he did.
His eyes traveled across the apartment: the peeling paint, the thrift-store furniture, the stack of medical bills on the counter.
I hated the shame that crawled up my neck.
“Don’t,” I said quietly.
His gaze returned to me.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at us like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like we’re a problem you can solve with money.”
His expression tightened.
Before he could answer, Dante entered.
He carried a small white envelope.
“Boss.”
Luca took it.
“Where?”
“Taped beneath the lobby mailbox.”
My blood turned cold.
Luca opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Emma.
At the playground.
Taken yesterday.
On the back was a message.
GIVE BACK WHAT JAKE STOLE OR THE GIRL PAYS HIS DEBT.
My hands went numb.
“I don’t have anything.”
Luca studied the photograph.
“They think you do.”
“But I don’t.”
“Then we need to find out why they believe otherwise.”
A small voice came from the bedroom.
“Mommy?”
I turned.
Emma was holding her stuffed rabbit.
Then her eyes brightened.
“Oh.”
She climbed from bed and padded toward us.
In her hand was something else.
A small silver key.
“Emma,” I whispered. “Where did you get that?”
“Daddy gave it to Bunny.”
The room went silent.
I crouched despite the pain.
“When?”
“Before he went away.”
My heart hammered.
“Where was it?”
She pointed at the stuffed rabbit.
“In his tummy.”
Luca and I looked at each other.
He took the rabbit carefully and found a hand-stitched seam along its back.
Inside was a tiny plastic pouch.
A key.
And a folded bank receipt.
Luca opened it.
His face changed.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
The receipt belonged to a private safe-deposit company near Pioneer Square.
The date was eighteen months old.
The customer name was mine.
But I had never been there.
Then I saw the signature.
Ava Carter.
Perfectly forged.
Luca spoke softly.
“Jake didn’t just steal your inheritance.”
I looked at him.
“He used your identity to hide something.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Luca reached for it.
I pulled away.
“No.”
“Ava—”
“It’s my phone.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
For a moment, nothing.
Then a voice I had spent eighteen months trying to forget whispered through the speaker.
“Ava.”
My entire body froze.
Jake.
“Listen carefully. Don’t trust Castellano.”
I looked directly at Luca.
Jake took a ragged breath.
“He’s not protecting Emma from Sloane.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
May you like
“He’s protecting a secret from you.”
The line went dead.
