Chapter 5 - The Rossi Secret
Carlo Rossi had been dead for 12 years.
That was the first problem.
The second was that Vincent had spent those 12 years believing his father died without ever harming Teresa.
Gray Suit's real name was Nathan Vale.
And once Vincent's men persuaded him that Anthony intended to abandon him, Vale started talking.
Carlo Rossi had ordered Teresa's death after discovering she planned to cooperate with federal investigators and take her sons away.
Anthony had learned the truth years later.
Instead of telling Vincent, he used it.
Carlo had hidden millions before his death.
Anthony believed Teresa had left the location with Vincent.
She had not.
“That's what all this is about?” Harper asked. “Money?”
Vincent stood by the study window.
“For men like Anthony, it's always about money.”
Harper watched his reflection.
“You okay?”
“No.”
It was such a simple answer that she crossed the room.
She did not think about it.
She hugged him.
Vincent became completely still.
Harper almost stepped away.
Then his arms came around her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like a man handling something breakable.
They stood there without speaking.
When Harper finally pulled back, their faces were inches apart.
Vincent touched a loose strand of hair near her cheek.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I know.”
“You should be far away from me.”
“Probably.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
His thumb brushed her cheek.
“If anything happened to you—”
Harper kissed him.
It was not dramatic.
No crashing furniture.
No cinematic explosion.
Just one exhausted woman and one lonely man finally stopping the argument neither wanted to win.
Vincent kissed her back.
Then he stopped himself.
“Harper.”
“What?”
“You don't know what you're choosing.”
“I'm not choosing anything. I'm kissing you.”
Despite everything, he laughed.
Then alarms erupted throughout the house.
Anthony had made his next move.
St. Catherine's private facility had received a bomb threat.
Harper went white.
“My mother.”
Vincent was already moving.
The threat proved false.
But it accomplished its purpose.
While Vincent's men rushed to protect Evelyn, Anthony stole Nathan Vale from the estate.
He left behind a message.
TABLE FOUR. MIDNIGHT.
The Brass Rail.
Harper stared at it.
“He wants you back where this started.”
“No,” Vincent said.
“He wants both of us.”
Midnight arrived with the restaurant dark.
Vincent entered alone.
At least, Anthony believed he did.
Harper was hidden in the kitchen with a recording device Vincent's attorney had arranged through federal contacts unconnected to Mercer.
Anthony sat at table 4.
He looked enough like Vincent to make the resemblance unsettling, but his smile was colder.
“Little brother.”
“Where's Vale?”
“Dead.”
Vincent's face showed nothing.
Anthony poured Scotch.
“You always were Mother's favorite.”
“Is that what this is?”
“Don't insult me.”
“You murdered people over an inheritance that doesn't exist.”
Anthony smiled.
“It exists.”
He produced an old photograph of Teresa.
“She left a safe-deposit key.”
Harper, listening from the kitchen, suddenly remembered something.
Evelyn.
Her mother had worked with Teresa Rossi decades ago.
Harper had not known until Evelyn recognized Vincent's surname.
And three days earlier, Evelyn had mentioned that Teresa once gave her something for safekeeping.
Harper's heart stopped.
Anthony continued.
“Your waitress's mother has the key.”
Vincent's expression changed for half a second.
Enough.
Anthony smiled.
“There it is.”
Vincent stood.
“If you touch Evelyn—”
“I already did.”
Harper's blood froze.
Then the kitchen door opened behind her.
Simon stood there.
He pressed a gun against her back.
“Sorry, Harper.”
She closed her eyes.
Of course.
Simon marched her into the dining room.
Anthony looked delighted.
Vincent did not move.
Harper had never seen murder enter someone's face so quietly.
May you like
Anthony gestured toward her.
“Now we're finally negotiating.”
