Chapter 6 - The Night the King Begged
Vincent had spent twenty years learning how to make men afraid.
He knew how to use silence.
How to hold eye contact.
How to speak softly enough that the person across from him leaned forward without realizing it.
But when Richard threatened Elena, every carefully practiced instinct vanished.
"Where is she?"
Richard chuckled.
"That's the wrong question."
"Where. Is. My. Wife?"
"Still thinking like a husband? That's touching, considering how little attention you paid her when she was home."
Vincent's hand tightened around the phone.
"What do you want?"
"The Northstar files. Every copy Elena has collected. Including Vivian's drive."
"And then?"
"Then your wife can return to whatever miserable arrangement the two of you call a marriage."
Vincent stared at the city beyond his office windows.
"How do I know she's alive?"
"Because if she were dead, you'd already know."
The line went silent.
Vincent slowly lowered the phone.
Gabriel stood in the doorway.
"Sir?"
Vincent turned.
"Find her."
"We're working on—"
"No."
His voice broke.
The sound startled them both.
"Find her, Gabriel."
Elena was not in Richard's custody.
Not yet.
At 6:52 p.m., she was sitting in the back of a delivery van parked inside a locked maintenance garage in Brooklyn.
Vivian sat beside her.
The two women had arranged an emergency meeting point after Vivian warned her about the surveillance team.
Elena had abandoned her phone to mislead anyone tracking it.
But she had made one mistake.
She had assumed Margaret was safe.
Now she stared at the photograph of her injured attorney on Vivian's phone.
"They hurt her because of me."
Vivian shook her head.
"They hurt her because Richard is afraid of what she knows."
"She's sixty-three."
"I know."
"She has grandchildren."
"Elena."
"No."
Elena's voice cracked.
"People keep telling me to be careful. To hide. To disappear. Meanwhile, Richard hurts anyone who tries to help me."
Vivian looked away.
For the first time, Elena noticed a bruise near her wrist.
"Did he do that?"
Vivian pulled her sleeve down.
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does."
Vivian met her eyes.
"He found out I copied the transactions. He told me I had forty-eight hours to recover them."
Elena looked at the storage drive in her palm.
"What exactly is on this?"
"Transfers. Ownership records. Correspondence."
"Enough to prove fraud?"
"Enough to start asking questions Richard can't afford to answer."
"Then we give it to the authorities."
"We need someone who can authenticate the records and protect us while they do it."
Elena looked toward the garage entrance.
"And Vincent?"
Vivian hesitated.
"He's not the one directing the surveillance."
"How do you know?"
"Because Richard's people were instructed to keep Vincent from finding out."
Elena felt a complicated movement of relief and anger.
Vincent had not ordered her followed.
But he had created a world where his wife could be threatened without anyone believing she had the power to defend herself.
She looked at Vivian.
"I need to call him."
Vivian's eyes widened.
"Elena—"
"Not to ask permission. Not to ask him to rescue me."
"Then why?"
"Because if Richard is threatening both of us, Vincent needs to know the truth."
At 8:16 p.m., Vincent's secure phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered immediately.
"Hello?"
For a moment, there was only breathing.
Then:
"Vincent."
He closed his eyes.
"Elena."
She heard the relief in his voice.
It nearly undid her.
Nearly.
"Are you safe?" he asked.
"For now."
"Where are you?"
"I'm not telling you."
"Elena, please."
She went silent.
In two years, Vincent Vale had rarely said please.
Never like that.
"Richard called me," Vincent continued. "He threatened you."
"I know."
"Are you with him?"
"No."
"Thank God."
She looked down at the drive.
"Vincent, did you know my father's signatures were being used to transfer assets?"
"No."
"Did you know Richard was taking money from Northstar?"
"I suspected something after you showed me the papers."
"That's not what I asked."
He exhaled.
"No. I didn't know."
Elena swallowed.
"Did you know my father was trying to investigate before he died?"
Silence.
"Vincent?"
"I knew he was unhappy with the accounting."
She felt the words like a physical blow.
"You knew?"
"Elena, I didn't know how serious it was."
"He came to you?"
"Once."
"When?"
"About a week before he died."
Elena pressed a hand against her mouth.
Her father had gone to Vincent for help.
And Vincent had never told her.
"What did you do?"
"I referred him to Richard."
Elena closed her eyes.
There it was.
The terrible, ordinary answer.
Vincent had not needed to order anything.
He had simply trusted the wrong man and failed to listen to the right one.
"My father was afraid," she whispered.
"I didn't understand that."
"Because you didn't ask."
Vincent said nothing.
She heard him breathing.
Then he spoke in a voice she had never heard before.
"Tell me where you are. I won't come unless you ask. I just need to know you're somewhere safe."
Elena looked at Vivian.
Then back toward the garage entrance.
"I have evidence, Vincent. I'm giving it to an independent attorney and federal investigators."
"Do it."
She blinked.
"You won't try to stop me?"
"No."
"It could destroy your company."
"I know."
"Then why?"
His answer came without hesitation.
"Because Richard is threatening your life."
Elena's throat tightened.
"That didn't stop you from humiliating me."
Vincent closed his eyes.
"No."
The word was barely audible.
"It didn't."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Elena said, "I need you to do something."
"Anything."
"Keep Margaret Shaw alive. Get her independent protection. And don't let Richard near her."
"Done."
"And Vincent?"
"Yes?"
"Don't look for me."
He went very still.
"Elena—"
"I mean it."
"I can't just—"
"You spent two years telling me what my place was. I'm telling you where it isn't."
A pause.
"Beside you."
The call ended.
Vincent remained standing with the phone pressed against his ear.
Gabriel watched him from the doorway.
"Sir?"
Vincent slowly lowered his hand.
"Get an independent medical security team to St. Catherine's. Margaret Shaw is to have protection around the clock."
"And Mrs. Vale?"
Vincent looked toward the darkened windows.
"She asked me not to look for her."
Gabriel waited.
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"Respect it. But keep working on Richard's operation. If he moves against her, I want to know."
At 9:38 p.m., Richard Cole entered a private office in a Manhattan hotel.
Meredith Sloan was waiting beside the window.
"You promised Elena wouldn't become a problem," she snapped.
Richard removed his coat.
"She isn't a problem."
"She has the files."
"Not for long."
Meredith turned.
"What about Vincent?"
Richard smiled.
"Vincent is sentimental when it comes to things he thinks he owns."
"Elena?"
"His company. His reputation. His wife."
Richard poured himself a drink.
"He'll sacrifice the first two to protect the third."
Meredith looked uncertain.
"And then?"
"Then we'll take all three."
His phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
The women are at the Brooklyn location.
Richard's smile widened.
"Finally."
At 10:07 p.m., Elena and Vivian heard the garage door begin to rise.
Vivian froze.
"We didn't call anyone."
Elena stood.
Headlights swept across the concrete floor.
A dark SUV rolled inside.
Two men stepped out.
One carried a firearm at his side.
The other held a photograph of Elena.
"Mrs. Vale," he called. "Mr. Cole would like a word."
Vivian grabbed Elena's arm.
There was no rear exit.
The men moved closer.
Then a sharp metallic crash echoed through the garage.
The lights went out.
Someone shouted.
A vehicle engine roared beyond the entrance.
In the sudden darkness, a man's voice rang out.
"Get away from her."
Elena knew that voice.
Vincent.
But when emergency lighting flickered on, she saw something she had never imagined.
Vincent Vale was standing between her and two armed men.
May you like
And for the first time in his life, he had come without a weapon.
End of Chapter 6.
