Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Khloe couldn't breathe.
Her mother, Evelyn Harper, had died when Khloe was eighteen.
Cancer, according to the official story.
A private funeral.
A sealed coffin.
A gravestone in a Chicago cemetery.
Khloe had spent six years believing that the last person who had ever loved her unconditionally was beneath that marble.
Now Gabriel was showing her a photograph that threatened to destroy everything she remembered.
“Where was this taken?”
“Brooklyn,” Gabriel replied.
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
Khloe grabbed the phone.
“Find her.”
“We're already trying.”
“No. You don't understand. Find her now!”
Gabriel caught her shoulders.
“Listen to me. If Caldwell wants you to panic, giving him exactly what he wants will get your mother killed.”
Khloe struggled against his grip.
“You don't get to tell me how to react!”
“I do when your reaction could put both of you in the ground.”
She stared at him.
His voice had not risen.
That somehow made it worse.
Gabriel ordered Vincent to bring the vehicle around.
Within minutes, they were traveling through the rain toward a private residence overlooking the Hudson River.
The house was not what Khloe expected.
She had imagined a fortress filled with armed guards, surveillance screens, and steel doors.
Instead, it was a restored brownstone with warm lighting, old books, and a grand piano beside the windows.
A woman in her sixties opened the door.
“Mr. Rossi.”
“Mrs. Bellini. This is Khloe.”
The housekeeper examined Khloe's oversized shirt and battered sneakers.
“She's hungry.”
Gabriel removed his coat.
“She hasn't eaten.”
“Then I'll make something.”
Khloe almost laughed.
A woman who worked for a mafia boss was concerned about whether she had eaten.
It was so ordinary that it hurt.
After a hot shower and a change of clothes, Khloe sat at the kitchen island wearing a simple gray sweater and black trousers.
For the first time in eight months, she wasn't hiding beneath layers of fabric.
She hated how exposed she felt.
Gabriel entered carrying two cups of coffee.
He placed one before her.
“You look different.”
“I look like myself.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“It used to be.”
He sat opposite her.
“Tell me about your mother.”
Khloe wrapped both hands around the cup.
“Evelyn Harper was a music teacher. She hated my father's business. She wanted to leave him, but she stayed because she thought he would eventually become someone better.”
“And did he?”
Khloe gave a bitter smile.
“I don't know anymore.”
She described her mother's final months.
The hospital.
The medication.
The funeral.
Then she remembered something.
A week before her mother's supposed death, Evelyn had given her a small silver locket.
Inside was a photograph of the two of them at the beach.
On the back, her mother had written:
When the music stops, follow the blue note.
Khloe had never understood it.
She had carried the locket everywhere until it disappeared during her escape from Chicago.
“Gabriel?”
He looked up.
“My father might have hidden something in my mother's belongings.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“The family house was destroyed.”
“Not everything.”
He opened a drawer and placed a folder on the counter.
Inside were documents showing that Daniel Harper had transferred ownership of a storage facility in Queens to an unknown company shortly before his disappearance.
The company had been registered under Evelyn's maiden name.
Khloe stared.
“My mother never owned a company.”
“Apparently, she did.”
Gabriel showed her the address.
Before they could discuss their next move, the security alarm sounded.
Vincent appeared in the doorway with his weapon drawn.
“Someone's inside the perimeter.”
Gabriel stood immediately.
“Where?”
“East gate. One vehicle. No plates.”
The lights went out.
Khloe heard a crash from the hallway.
Then a woman's voice.
“Khloe?”
Her blood froze.
It was Jenna.
“Khloe, please! You have to help me!”
Vincent moved toward the sound.
Gabriel raised his hand.
“Don't.”
A second later, gunfire erupted outside.
Khloe ducked behind the kitchen island.
Gabriel pulled her down beside him.
“Stay here.”
But Khloe had heard something beneath the gunfire.
A faint metallic click.
Then a sharp hiss.
Gas.
Someone had sabotaged the ventilation system.
Gabriel looked toward the ceiling.
“Vincent! Get everyone out!”
The front windows shattered.
A smoke canister rolled across the hallway.
Khloe grabbed Gabriel's sleeve.
“There's another entrance through the pantry!”
He looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because I checked every exit when I walked in.”
For the first time, Gabriel looked genuinely impressed.
They escaped through the rear service corridor as the house filled with smoke.
Outside, Vincent was waiting beside an armored SUV.
He was bleeding from his forehead.
“Boss, we have to move!”
Gabriel pushed Khloe into the vehicle.
But she stopped when she saw someone standing near the garden wall.
Jenna.
Her face was streaked with tears.
Her hands were raised.
“I didn't know they were going to kill anyone,” Jenna shouted.
Khloe stepped out.
“Why did you lie to me?”
Jenna looked toward the burning house.
“Because my father told me you were responsible for my brother's death.”
Khloe stared.
“Your brother?”
Jenna lowered her voice.
“Michael Caldwell. The boy your father supposedly killed.”
May you like
Then she whispered the words that made Khloe's knees weaken.
“He wasn't killed by your father, Khloe. He was killed by Gabriel Rossi.”
