Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN RED
Ara wore red.
Not because Marcus had told her to.
At least, that was what she told herself.
The dress belonged to Dorian’s sister, Bianca, who arrived the next afternoon carrying three garment bags, two coffees, and enough questions to interrogate a federal witness.
“So you’re Marcus Vale’s daughter.”
Ara froze.
Dorian glared at his sister.
“You told her?”
“I told exactly one person.”
Bianca smiled.
“And I’m delightful with secrets.”
She was thirty-one, sharp-eyed and elegant, with Dorian’s dark hair and none of his intimidating silence.
She looked Ara over.
“Marcus used to bring me lemon candy whenever my father made me cry.”
Ara swallowed.
“That sounds like him.”
Bianca’s expression softened.
“He loved you, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Then we find him.”
Simple words.
Ara nearly cried.
Instead, she chose the red dress.
The Hale Foundation Gala occupied the ballroom of the Halcyon Hotel.
Nearly five hundred people filled the room.
Politicians.
Judges.
Business executives.
People who smiled for photographs while calculating one another’s value.
Ara entered on Dorian’s arm.
Conversations stopped.
Elizabeth stood beside her father near the stage.
Her face remained composed.
Only her eyes betrayed her.
Richard Hale was sixty-two, silver-haired, polished, and famous for speaking about integrity while collecting favors from people who preferred darkness.
He kissed Elizabeth’s cheek.
Then walked toward them.
“Dorian.”
“Senator.”
Richard looked at Ara.
“And you must be Miss Quinn.”
No introduction had been made.
Ara smiled.
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
Richard’s eyes flickered.
Elizabeth approached.
She wore white.
Of course she did.
“What is she doing here?”
Dorian’s voice remained calm.
“She’s my guest.”
“I’m your fiancée.”
“For the moment.”
That landed.
Richard stepped between them socially rather than physically.
“Perhaps tonight isn’t the place.”
“I think tonight is exactly the place,” Ara said.
Elizabeth’s eyes burned.
“You should have learned your lesson yesterday.”
Ara leaned closer.
“You should have aimed better.”
Dorian coughed into his fist.
Ara suspected he was hiding a smile.
Music began.
Guests moved toward the dance floor.
Dorian placed his hand at Ara’s back.
“Dance.”
“I don’t dance with armed men.”
“You worked eleven months in a restaurant full of them.”
“Fair point.”
He led her onto the floor.
They moved slowly.
Ara was aware of every eye.
Especially Elizabeth’s.
“What are we looking for?” she whispered.
“Marcus.”
“In a ballroom?”
“He told you to wear red. That means he expected to identify you from a distance.”
Ara’s heart accelerated.
They rotated.
She scanned the balconies.
Waiters.
Security.
Musicians.
Nothing.
Then Dorian’s fingers tightened slightly.
“Don’t turn around.”
Naturally, she wanted to.
“What?”
“Second balcony. Man behind the curtain.”
“Marcus?”
“I saw half a face.”
Dorian guided her through another turn.
The curtain moved.
Empty.
“I’m going upstairs.”
“So am I.”
“No.”
She stared at him.
“You haven’t learned much about me.”
“Unfortunately, I’m learning quickly.”
They left the dance floor separately.
Ara took the east staircase.
Dorian took the west.
The second-floor balcony corridor was empty.
Ara followed it toward a service hallway.
Then she heard a voice.
“Ara.”
She stopped breathing.
No one had said her name like that in six years.
She turned.
Marcus Vale stood twenty feet away.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
For one second, Ara became twenty-three again.
“Dad?”
His face broke.
She ran.
Marcus caught her.
The hug was violent with years.
Ara struck his chest once.
Then again.
“You were alive.”
“I know.”
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“I hated you.”
“I know.”
She held him harder.
“I missed you.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“My little girl.”
Footsteps approached.
Dorian appeared.
He stopped.
Marcus looked over Ara’s shoulder.
The two men stared at each other.
Dorian’s face contained six years of grief.
“You son of a bitch.”
Marcus smiled weakly.
“Good to see you too.”
Dorian crossed the distance and embraced him.
Briefly.
Then punched him.
Marcus stumbled.
“Dorian!”
“I deserved that,” Marcus said.
“You deserve six more.”
“Later.”
His expression changed.
“We have three minutes.”
“Until what?” Ara asked.
“Until Richard realizes I’m here.”
Marcus removed a flash drive.
“This contains payment records, shipping manifests, judges, police, shell corporations. Richard Hale built his political career by protecting the organization your father tried to dismantle.”
He looked at Dorian.
“Your father wasn’t the head of it.”
Dorian went still.
“Who was?”
“Richard.”
Ara stared toward the ballroom.
Marcus continued.
“Six years ago, I discovered he planned to kill Dorian and blame a rival family. I staged my death so I could disappear inside his network.”
“For six years?” Ara whispered.
“I needed evidence.”
“You needed six years more than you needed your daughter?”
Pain crossed his face.
“Yes.”
The answer hurt because it was truthful.
Marcus placed the drive in Ara’s hand.
“Why me?”
“Because he’ll search Dorian.”
“Why not release it?”
“It’s encrypted.”
“Password?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Your mother’s last words.”
Ara’s heart stopped.
“My mother died in a car accident.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
A door slammed downstairs.
Men shouted.
Marcus looked toward the stairwell.
“They found me.”
Dorian drew his gun.
“We leave together.”
“No.”
Marcus grabbed him.
“Protect her.”
“I’m not abandoning you again.”
“You never abandoned me.”
Footsteps thundered closer.
Marcus pushed open a maintenance door.
A narrow staircase descended toward the kitchens.
“Go.”
Ara refused.
“Dad—”
Marcus kissed her forehead.
“I came back because I promised your mother one thing.”
“What?”
“That when this ended, you would know why she died.”
Ara stared at him.
Then the stairwell door burst open.
Gunfire erupted.
Dorian pulled Ara down the maintenance stairs.
Her father remained behind.
May you like
And as the door slammed between them, Ara heard Marcus shout one final sentence.
“Ask Elizabeth what happened on Lake Geneva!”
