Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT ARA’S MOTHER DIED
They escaped through the hotel kitchen.
Dorian’s security team moved them into an armored car while confusion spread through the gala.
No bodies were found upstairs.
No Marcus either.
Again.
Ara sat frozen.
Dorian handed her the flash drive.
She stared at it.
“Lake Geneva.”
“We’ll find out.”
“My mother died near Lake Geneva.”
Dorian looked at her.
“When?”
“Fourteen years ago.”
Ara had been fifteen.
The official story was simple.
Her mother, Katherine Quinn, lost control of her car on a wet road.
She died instantly.
Marcus disappeared from Ara’s life almost completely afterward.
Ara had always believed grief destroyed him.
Now she wondered whether grief had transformed him into something else.
Bianca joined them at Dorian’s penthouse.
She had already searched public records.
“Katherine Quinn’s accident was investigated by Walworth County. But something’s strange.”
“What?”
“The original accident photographs are missing.”
Dorian leaned over her laptop.
“Missing how?”
“The file references eighteen photographs. The digital archive contains four.”
Ara looked at the flash drive.
“Maybe everything is connected.”
She inserted it.
A password field appeared.
YOUR MOTHER’S LAST WORDS.
Ara closed her eyes.
She remembered the last morning.
Her mother standing at the kitchen counter.
Blue sweater.
Coffee.
Marcus had called.
Her parents argued quietly.
Katherine hugged Ara before leaving.
What had she said?
Not goodbye.
Something ordinary.
Something Ara had forgotten because she believed there would be thousands more words.
Then it returned.
“Always choose the door.”
Dorian frowned.
“What?”
“My mother used to say it whenever I was afraid. She said there were two kinds of people: people who waited for someone to rescue them, and people who looked for the door.”
Ara typed:
ALWAYSCHOOSETHEDOOR
Access granted.
Hundreds of files appeared.
Bianca whispered, “Jesus.”
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
Recorded conversations.
Lists of officials.
At the center of everything was Richard Hale.
But another name appeared repeatedly.
Elizabeth Hale.
Ara stared.
“She was fifteen when my mother died.”
Bianca opened a folder labeled GENEVA.
Inside was a video.
The footage was grainy.
A lakeside estate.
Date stamped fourteen years earlier.
Katherine Quinn appeared.
Alive.
She was arguing with Richard Hale.
Then a teenage Elizabeth entered the frame.
Ara leaned toward the screen.
There was no audio.
Katherine pointed at Richard.
Elizabeth grabbed her father’s arm.
Richard shoved Katherine.
She stumbled.
Then Katherine held up a small recording device.
Richard’s expression changed.
The video ended.
Another file contained Marcus’s notes.
Ara read aloud.
“Katherine discovered Hale was laundering campaign money through DeLorenzo-controlled shipping companies without Antonio DeLorenzo’s knowledge.”
Dorian swore quietly.
“She threatened to expose him.”
Bianca opened another document.
A police statement.
Witness: Elizabeth Hale.
Ara’s stomach tightened.
Elizabeth claimed Katherine had been drinking heavily.
Claimed she saw Katherine leave the estate intoxicated.
Toxicology showed no alcohol.
The report had been altered.
Then Dorian found a photograph.
Katherine’s wrecked car.
The brake line had been cut.
Ara stopped breathing.
“No.”
Dorian closed the laptop.
She reopened it.
“No. I need to see.”
“You’ve seen enough.”
“Don’t decide that for me.”
He let go.
Ara stared until the image blurred.
Her mother had not died in an accident.
She had been murdered.
Dorian sat beside her.
Ara expected words.
He gave her silence.
That helped more.
Finally she whispered, “Elizabeth knew.”
“At fifteen, she may not have understood everything.”
“She lied to police.”
“Yes.”
Ara stood.
“I’m going to kill her.”
Dorian caught her wrist.
“No.”
“She covered up my mother’s murder.”
“And Richard would love nothing more than for you to walk into his house angry and unprepared.”
Ara pulled away.
“You don’t get to tell me how angry I’m allowed to be.”
“I’m telling you to survive it.”
She looked at him.
His voice lowered.
“Marcus spent fourteen years trying to give you the truth. Don’t throw away what he bought with those years.”
That stopped her.
Ara turned away.
Minutes passed.
Then Bianca spoke.
“There’s another folder.”
Ara looked.
E.H. INSURANCE
Inside were documents dated three months earlier.
A life insurance policy.
Dorian DeLorenzo.
Beneficiary: Elizabeth Hale.
Twenty-five million dollars.
Dorian stared.
“I never signed this.”
Bianca opened the scanned signature page.
His signature was there.
Forged.
Ara looked at him.
“Your fiancée took out a policy on your life?”
“Apparently.”
“There’s more,” Bianca said.
A transfer had been made from a Hale-controlled account to a man named Victor Sloane.
Dorian knew the name.
Ara saw it immediately.
“Who is he?”
“Former military contractor.”
“And?”
“Professional killer.”
The payment memo contained a date.
Three days from now.
Dorian’s birthday.
Ara felt suddenly cold.
“Your engagement isn’t a business arrangement.”
“No.”
Dorian stared at Elizabeth’s insurance policy.
“It’s an execution schedule.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Dorian answered.
Elizabeth spoke.
“I want Ara Quinn.”
Dorian’s expression hardened.
Elizabeth continued.
“And before you say no, you should know we have Marcus.”
Ara grabbed the phone.
“Let me hear him.”
Silence.
Then her father’s voice.
“Ara, don’t—”
A blow.
Marcus groaned.
Ara’s face went white.
Elizabeth returned.
“Midnight tomorrow. You for him.”
Dorian took the phone.
“If you hurt him—”
Elizabeth laughed softly.
“You still don’t understand, Dorian.”
“Understand what?”
“My father doesn’t want Marcus anymore.”
A pause.
“He wants the drive.”
The call ended.
Ara looked toward the computer.
Dorian removed the flash drive.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“He’s my father.”
“And Richard will kill both of you.”
“Then we need another plan.”
Dorian studied her.
Ara wiped the tears from her face.
For the first time that night, her hands stopped shaking.
“My father taught me never to enter through the door someone expects.”
Dorian’s eyes sharpened.
“So?”
May you like
Ara looked at Elizabeth Hale’s photograph on the screen.
“So we make Elizabeth open a different one.”
