Chapter 2 - The Fifty-Thousand-Dollar GhostClara expected a penthouse.
She did not expect Lorenzo Moretti to be waiting in its kitchen.
At 3:38 a.m., Silas led her through an apartment overlooking Central Park. Everything about the place looked expensive enough to make Clara nervous about breathing near it.
Then she saw Lorenzo.
His jacket was gone. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and a black folder rested on the marble island.
Beside it sat a pharmacy bag.
Clara stopped.
She recognized the label.
Maya Vance.
Lorenzo pushed it toward her.
“Your sister’s prescription.”
Her anger sharpened instantly.
“You had someone go through our medical information?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
“You threatened me over medication.”
“I did not threaten you.”
“You said I’d regret meeting you.”
“That was a promise.”
Something almost resembling amusement touched Lorenzo’s mouth.
It disappeared.
“The pharmacy opens twenty-four hours. My driver collected the refill after your sister authorized it over the phone.”
Clara looked at Silas.
He nodded.
“She’s awake. She knows you’re safe.”
Clara hated how much relief flooded her.
“Thank you.”
Lorenzo gestured toward the chair.
“Sit.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
Clara remained standing.
“You kidnapped me from my workplace. You don’t get manners.”
Lorenzo studied her for several seconds before opening the folder.
He turned it around.
Clara saw her father’s name.
JOHN VANCE.
Beneath it was a number.
$50,000.
Her stomach tightened.
“My father has been dead for four years.”
“I know.”
“Then whatever that is, it isn’t my problem.”
“I wish that were true.”
He removed several documents.
John Vance had borrowed fifty thousand dollars from a private lender called North Crown Capital six months before his death.
Interest had accumulated.
Collection rights had been transferred twice.
The current holder was Calder Financial Recovery.
Clara stared.
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
Lorenzo slid over another photograph.
A thick-necked man leaving Clara’s apartment building.
She recognized him.
He had knocked two nights earlier and claimed he was looking for the superintendent.
“His name is Raymond Pike,” Lorenzo said. “He collects for Victor Sanz.”
Clara’s fingers chilled.
“Who is Victor Sanz?”
“A man you don’t want learning that you have a younger sister.”
The threat inside the sentence made Clara’s chair suddenly seem useful.
She sat.
“My father never told me about a loan.”
“Your father hid several things from you.”
“You didn’t know him.”
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
Barely.
But enough.
Clara noticed.
“You did.”
Silence.
“Did you know my father?”
Lorenzo closed the folder.
“That isn’t why you’re here.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because Sanz will come for the money.”
“I don’t have fifty thousand dollars.”
“I know.”
“So what?”
Lorenzo walked toward the windows.
Manhattan glittered beneath the rain.
“Tomorrow night, my board votes on the Moretti Foundation’s acquisition of three waterfront properties. Certain people believe my personal life makes me vulnerable to political pressure.”
Clara blinked.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I need a wife.”
She stared at him.
Lorenzo turned.
“For one year.”
Clara actually laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
“You kidnapped a waitress at three in the morning to propose?”
“It’s not a proposal.”
“No. Proposals usually involve asking.”
His jaw tightened.
“I pay the debt. I guarantee your sister’s safety. I move both of you somewhere secure. You appear beside me publicly for twelve months. After that, the marriage ends, and you receive two million dollars.”
Clara stopped laughing.
Not because she was tempted.
Because she finally understood what kind of man stood before her.
One who believed every problem had a price.
“No.”
Lorenzo stared.
“No?”
“You heard me.”
“You owe money to people who break fingers for late payments.”
“My dead father owed them.”
“They won’t care about the distinction.”
“Then help me because you can.”
“That isn’t how my world works.”
Clara rose.
“Exactly.”
She headed toward the door.
Silas looked at Lorenzo.
Lorenzo said, “Clara.”
She turned.
He held up another page.
A photograph was clipped to it.
Maya leaving school.
Clara crossed the room so fast Silas stepped forward.
She slapped the photograph out of Lorenzo’s hand.
“If your men took that—”
“They didn’t.”
His voice had changed.
“This came from Pike’s car.”
Clara froze.
Lorenzo continued quietly.
“Sanz already knows where Maya goes to school.”
Fear finally broke through her anger.
Lorenzo saw it.
And Clara hated him for seeing it.
“How long?”
“Until what?”
“Until they come.”
“Maybe a day. Maybe less.”
Clara looked down at her sister’s photograph.
Maya was seventeen.
Too young to inherit their father’s mistakes.
Too young to understand the kind of men who apparently watched school gates.
Clara closed her eyes.
“One year?”
“One year.”
“No touching me unless I agree.”
Lorenzo’s gaze hardened.
“I don’t force women.”
“You forced me into a car.”
A beat.
“You’re right.”
The admission surprised them both.
Clara continued.
“Maya stays out of your business. I keep my job if I want it. I get my own bedroom. And when the year ends, you erase every debt connected to my father.”
“Yes.”
“And I want the original debt records.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know why my father needed fifty thousand dollars.”
For the first time, Lorenzo looked uncomfortable.
Clara noticed.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Before he could answer, Silas’s phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
Lorenzo turned.
Silas looked at Clara.
“Someone broke into the Vance apartment ten minutes ago.”
Clara went white.
“Maya?”
“She wasn’t there. Our man got her out first.”
Lorenzo reached for his jacket.
Clara grabbed his arm.
“Who knew I was here?”
Silas answered.
“Only six people.”
Lorenzo became completely still.
Clara looked from one man to the other.
“Then whoever broke into my apartment wasn’t just looking for money.”
Lorenzo met her eyes.
“No.”
“What were they looking for?”
He glanced at the black folder.
May you like
Then said the words that changed everything.
“Something your father stole from mine.”
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