Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Leonardo Moretti was not a man who frightened easily.
He had survived two assassination attempts, three betrayals inside his own organization, and a federal investigation that had nearly cost him everything.
But when Taylor Rossi dragged him out of bed and demanded the whereabouts of Alex Hayes, Leonardo looked genuinely confused.
“I haven't seen your woman in months,” Leonardo growled, blood running from the corner of his mouth. “And if you think I kidnapped her, you've finally lost your mind.”
Taylor pressed the Beretta harder against his forehead.
“Then explain why my security systems were disabled by someone who knew my entire operation.”
“Maybe because you gave her three years to learn everything about you.”
The room went silent.
Taylor's jaw tightened.
Leonardo slowly smiled.
“Ah. So she left.”
Taylor struck him with the pistol.
“Say another word.”
“You didn't lose her to me, Rossi. You lost her because she wanted to get away from you.”
Taylor stepped back.
For the first time in years, someone had said something about Alex that he couldn't dismiss.
He returned to his penthouse before dawn.
The broken chair remained beside the vanity. Alex's necklace was still resting on the financial ledger.
He picked it up.
Three carats of flawless diamonds.
He remembered buying it in Paris. Alex had been standing beside him in the jewelry store, wearing a simple black dress. She had admired the necklace without asking for it.
He had purchased it anyway.
That night, she had kissed his cheek and whispered that nobody had ever given her something so beautiful.
Taylor had pretended not to hear.
Now he stared at the empty bedroom.
“Find her,” he ordered Vincent.
Vincent stood near the doorway, his expression unusually guarded.
“We've searched the airports, train stations, private terminals, and every property she might have known about.”
“Then search again.”
“Taylor—”
“Did I ask you to explain?”
Vincent lowered his eyes.
“No.”
Taylor turned toward him.
“Who helped her?”
“We're investigating.”
“Then investigate faster.”
Vincent hesitated.
“There is something else.”
Taylor's gaze sharpened.
“What?”
“The security contractor confirmed that someone accessed the administrative override six months ago. The access was authorized using your personal executive credentials.”
Taylor stared at him.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
A terrible possibility began forming in his mind.
Someone had helped Alex prepare.
Someone had given her access.
And that person had been close enough to Taylor to understand his habits.
“Bring me every employee who had access to those systems.”
Vincent nodded.
But he didn't move immediately.
Taylor noticed.
“Something you're not telling me?”
Vincent swallowed.
“No, sir.”
“Get out.”
Meanwhile, nearly three thousand miles away, I was learning how to live without checking the locks every ten minutes.
The coastal town of Astoria, Oregon, smelled of saltwater, wet wood, and freshly brewed coffee.
My rented apartment was small.
The heating system rattled.
The windows faced a narrow street where fishermen carried equipment toward the harbor before sunrise.
It was perfect.
Nobody cared who I had been.
Nobody knew about the Rossi family.
And nobody expected me to sit at a desk cleaning the financial records of a criminal empire.
I registered myself at a small accounting office under the name Khloe Jenkins.
My employer, a seventy-year-old woman named Margaret Ellis, had hired me after a brief interview.
She didn't ask many questions.
She simply looked at my résumé and said, “You seem overqualified for this position.”
“I need something quiet.”
Margaret studied my face.
“Sometimes quiet is worth more than money.”
For the first time in years, I almost smiled.
Three weeks passed.
I began sleeping through the night.
I bought groceries without an armed guard following me.
I walked along the harbor.
And occasionally, when the rain hit my windows, I remembered Taylor.
Not because I wanted him back.
Because my body still remembered being afraid of him.
Then, one Thursday morning, Margaret entered my office holding a brown envelope.
“This was delivered for you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who brought it?”
“A courier. He said it required your personal attention.”
The envelope had no return address.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Taylor standing outside his penthouse, surrounded by armed men.
Someone had circled his face in red ink.
Beneath the photograph was a handwritten message.
YOU THINK YOU ESCAPED HIM. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE IS REALLY LOOKING FOR.
I turned the photograph over.
There was another sentence.
ASK HIM WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR SUPERVISOR.
My blood went cold.
My supervisor.
The man who had disappeared three years earlier after discovering the same financial discrepancy that had brought me to Taylor.
I had always believed Taylor had ordered his disappearance.
But the person who sent this photograph seemed to know something different.
My phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
A man's voice came through, weak and distorted.
“Alex?”
I stopped breathing.
Nobody had called me that name in weeks.
“Who is this?”
“It's Daniel.”
The envelope slipped from my fingers.
Daniel Mercer.
My former supervisor.
The man I had believed was dead.
“Alex,” he whispered, “listen carefully. Taylor didn't make me disappear.”
A pause.
Then he said the words that changed everything.
“He paid me to keep you alive.”
The line went dead.
And before I could call back, someone knocked three times on my apartment door.
I looked through the peephole.
A man in a dark suit stood outside.
He was holding a photograph of me.
But he wasn't alone.
Two men were waiting behind him.
May you like
One of them wore a familiar silver ring.
The Rossi family crest.
