Chapter 6 - The Traitor’s Daughter
The trap was brilliant.
Marcus Ashford hadn’t built his billion-dollar empire simply through muscle; he was a master of political leverage. By feeding a false kidnapping narrative to corrupt federal contacts, he had turned the entire law enforcement apparatus of the state of Illinois into his personal cleanup crew.
If Daniel resisted, he would be gunned down in a hail of federal bullets. If he surrendered, he would disappear into a maximum-security holding cell, where an Ashford-funded shank would find his ribs before he ever reached an arraignment.
"We can't go back to the hotel," I said, panic tightening my chest. "Daniel, they'll kill you!"
"The hotel is where Victoria is," Daniel replied coldly, picking up the black ledger and tucking it into his breast pocket. "And Victoria is the only witness who can corroborate Claire’s evidence before Marcus burns the paper trail. We go back."
"Through a federal blockade?" Noah asked, his voice shaking. "Are you crazy? They have snipers!"
Daniel looked down at Noah, placing a firm, steady hand on the boy's shoulder. "A Carter never runs from his own house, Noah. Your mother ran because she had no army. I have one."
He looked at Matteo. "Activate the sub-basement freight tunnels. We go in from underneath the river."
Thirty minutes later, we were moving through the damp, echoing darkness of the abandoned freight tunnels that crisscrossed beneath downtown Chicago. Decades ago, these narrow underground tracks had transported coal to the city's commercial boilers; now, they were Daniel Carter’s private veins into the heart of his empire.
We emerged through an unmarked steel hatch in the wine cellar three floors below the Carter Grand Hotel. The air was cool and smelled of aged oak and vintage cabernet.
Two of Daniel’s guards stood at attention outside a heavy meat-locker door. They raised their weapons, relaxing only when they recognized Daniel and Matteo.
"Status," Daniel demanded.
"The FBI has established a command post across Michigan Avenue," the guard reported. "They gave a thirty-minute ultimatum for the release of Miss Ashford. Marcus Ashford himself is sitting in a limousine outside the perimeter."
Daniel nodded once. "Open the door."
The heavy steel door swung outward with a hollow groan.
Inside, sitting on a cold metal chair under a single bare lightbulb, was Victoria Ashford. Her magnificent crimson gown was torn and stained with dust. Her makeup was smeared across her cheeks, her hair tangled. When the light hit her face, she squinted, flinching as Daniel walked into the room.
"Daniel..." she croaked, her voice hoarse from hours of screaming. "Please. My father is outside. He’ll destroy everything you own. Just let me go, and I'll tell him to drop the charges!"
Daniel pulled out Claire’s cassette tape and tossed it onto the table between them.
Victoria’s eyes locked onto the plastic case. She shrank back as if it were a venomous snake.
"You knew," Daniel said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "For sixteen years, you shared my bed. You smiled at my family dinners. You comforted me on the anniversary of my father's death. And all the while, you were the one who poured the poison into his glass."
"He was going to ruin us!" Victoria shrieked, losing all composure. Her mask cracked completely, revealing the ugly, rotting entitlement beneath. "Your father was an arrogant thug who thought he could control the Ashfords! He deserved to die!"
"And Claire?" I stepped forward from the shadows, unable to hold back the screaming fury in my blood. "Did my mother deserve to die? She was an innocent woman carrying your fiancé's child!"
Victoria looked at me, her lips curling into a grotesque, mocking sneer. "Innocent? She was a nobody! A little secretary who thought she could climb into our world! She was disposable!"
"Where is she buried, Victoria?" Daniel asked, his hand drifting toward the gun holstered beneath his arm. "Tell me where her body is, or I swear to you, the feds will breach this building only to find you in pieces."
Victoria stared into Daniel’s eyes. She saw no mercy there. She saw no love, no history, no hesitation. She saw a executioner.
A hysterical, shivering laugh broke from her chest.
"You think I killed her?" Victoria whispered, tears spilling over her mascara. "You really think I had the stomach to shoot a pregnant woman in the head?"
Daniel froze.
I felt the blood rush from my face. "What did you say?"
Victoria looked between Daniel and me, her expression a sickening blend of terror and triumph.
"I didn't kill her, Daniel," Victoria hissed. "I was supposed to. My father gave me the gun and told me to dump her in the canal. But when she begged for the baby's life... I couldn't pull the trigger. I couldn't do it!"
Daniel lunged forward, grabbing Victoria by the throat and slamming her back against the chair. "What did you do to her?!"
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"I hid her!" Victoria choked out, clawing at Daniel's iron grip. "I paid a clinic off the books... an off-grid psychiatric sanitarium in the woods outside Rockford! She’s been locked away in room 12 for sixteen years under heavy sedation so she could never contact you! She’s alive, Daniel! Claire is still alive!"
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