Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITH NO MIRRORS
Damian took Elena somewhere nobody knew he owned.
A brownstone on Beacon Hill.
No staff.
No guards inside.
No family photographs.
And strangely, almost no mirrors.
Elena noticed.
“You don’t like looking at yourself?”
Damian locked the door.
“I don’t like reflective surfaces facing windows.”
“Oh.”
“Bullets.”
“Right. Normal rich-person decorating problem.”
He gave her a look.
She sat on the kitchen counter because her knees were still shaking.
The bank attack had lasted less than ninety seconds.
Damian’s security team had driven off the shooters.
One had escaped.
One had been captured.
The documents survived.
Her father’s letter remained inside her coat.
Damian placed a glass of water in front of her.
“Drink.”
“You always give orders?”
“Yes.”
“Must be exhausting.”
“No.”
She drank anyway.
Her hands still shook.
Damian noticed.
He said nothing.
That kindness irritated her more than if he had commented.
Finally she asked, “Why no staff?”
“This was my mother’s house.”
Elena looked around.
“She died?”
“When I was nineteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged.
It was the kind of shrug people used when the grief had become too old to explain.
Elena touched her stomach.
The baby kicked again.
Damian’s eyes dropped.
“She does that constantly?”
“Only when men with guns are chasing me.”
“That happens often?”
“First Thursday.”
His mouth twitched.
Elena hated that she noticed.
They spent the next two hours reviewing the documents.
Daniel Ward had uncovered money passing through shell corporations controlled by Vale businesses.
Millions.
Then tens of millions.
The transactions were approved with Arthur’s authorization codes.
Except Arthur had privately recorded the real account books.
Someone had forged his approvals.
A name appeared repeatedly.
Sebastian Vale.
Arthur’s younger cousin.
Damian stared at it.
“My godfather.”
Elena leaned back.
“The person Arthur called a brother.”
Damian said nothing.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Damian’s face hardened.
“He runs half my legitimate companies.”
Elena laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
“You’re telling me the man who may have murdered my father has been sitting beside you at board meetings for eighteen years?”
“I didn’t know.”
“You really need better family communication.”
He slammed one hand against the table.
Elena jumped.
Damian immediately stepped back.
Regret crossed his face.
“I’m sorry.”
She watched him carefully.
That surprised her.
Men who frightened rooms rarely apologized for frightening women.
“I believed Sebastian saved us after my father’s stroke,” Damian said.
“When was the stroke?”
“Eleven months ago.”
“The assassination?”
“Yes.”
Elena’s eyes narrowed.
“What if it wasn't an assassination by a rival?”
Damian looked at her.
“What if it was Sebastian finishing something he started eighteen years ago?”
Silence.
Damian picked up his phone.
Then stopped.
“If Sebastian is involved, I can’t call anyone inside the family network.”
“Congratulations. You’ve finally learned trust issues.”
His gaze settled on her.
“Apparently I trust you.”
“You met me yesterday.”
“My father trusted you first.”
The room changed.
Just slightly.
Elena looked away.
“That’s not romantic, by the way.”
“I wasn’t being romantic.”
“Good.”
“Were you hoping I was?”
She stared at him.
Damian’s face remained completely serious.
Then she realized he was teasing her.
“You are deeply annoying.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Elena answered cautiously.
“Hello?”
A man breathed into the receiver.
Then spoke.
“Elena Ward?”
Damian stood instantly.
“Who is this?”
The caller continued.
“Your father begged for you before he died.”
Elena went cold.
Damian took the phone.
“Who is this?”
The line disconnected.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Damian’s phone buzzed.
A security message.
He opened it.
A photograph.
Arthur’s hospital room.
Empty.
The bed sheets torn away.
Elena’s stomach dropped.
“No.”
Damian stared at the image.
Another message arrived.
WE HAVE YOUR FATHER.
COME ALONE.
Elena looked at Damian.
He was completely still.
But she saw what lived beneath the stillness.
The seventeen-year-old boy who had already lost one parent.
About to lose another.
“You’re not going alone,” she said.
His eyes lifted.
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“You are seven months pregnant.”
“And he trusts me.”
“That is exactly why you’re staying here.”
Elena stood.
“You don’t get to decide what I do.”
Damian stepped closer.
“This isn’t a disagreement over hospital policy.”
“No. It’s about Arthur.”
“It’s about keeping you alive.”
“And what happens if the reason they took him is because they know he gave me the key?”
Damian stopped.
Elena pulled her father’s letter from her coat.
“Then they’re not waiting for you.”
May you like
She met his eyes.
“They’re waiting for me.”
