Chapter 2 - The Mafia Boss Gave Me a Room—Then I Found My Name Inside His Locked SafeVincent took me to a mansion on Lake Michigan.
Calling it a house would have been ridiculous.
Stone walls.
Iron gates.
Security cameras.
Armed men.
The sort of place I had spent my entire life believing belonged to villains in movies.
Now I was sleeping there.
My room was on the second floor.
Not Vincent's.
He made that clear without saying it.
A woman named Rosa brought medical supplies.
“I can change my own dressings.”
Rosa looked offended.
“Mr. Calder said you would say that.”
“Did he?”
“He also said I'm supposed to ignore you.”
I almost smiled.
Vincent appeared at the door an hour later.
He had changed clothes.
No blood.
No gun visible.
Somehow that made him more intimidating.
“Trevor?”
“Missing.”
“Did Caruso take him?”
“We don't know.”
“Then find him.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
“Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
Something almost warm entered his expression.
“All right.”
I hated that he made obedience look attractive.
“Why does Caruso want me?”
Vincent entered but remained near the door.
“Three years ago, I was carrying information when I was shot.”
“What information?”
“Account numbers. Names. Payments connecting Caruso to several officials.”
“And?”
“The drive disappeared at Mercy General.”
“I didn't take anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why me?”
“Caruso thinks I gave it to you.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then tell him.”
Vincent's expression was almost pitying.
“Men like Caruso don't survive by believing people.”
I folded my arms.
“What happened to the drive?”
“I thought it was lost.”
“Thought?”
“Until four months ago.”
Vincent handed me a photograph.
A silver necklace.
My necklace.
The one I'd worn throughout my nursing career.
I touched my neck instinctively.
It had disappeared after the fire.
“Where did you get this?”
“Trevor pawned it.”
I felt sick.
Vincent continued.
“The pendant contains a removable metal insert.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever open it?”
“No.”
“Someone did.”
My mind returned to Mercy General.
The night Vincent was shot.
I had removed his bloody clothing.
His personal belongings went into a plastic bag.
Wallet.
Watch.
A small metal object.
My heart stopped.
“No.”
“What?”
“I remember something.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“There was a tiny drive.”
His entire body became still.
“You saw it?”
“I put it with your belongings.”
“It wasn't there when I left.”
I closed my eyes.
Then remembered.
During the chaos, the bag ripped.
I gathered everything from the floor.
My necklace had broken earlier that shift.
Both had been sitting near the nurses' station.
“God.”
“What?”
“I might have mixed them up.”
Vincent understood.
The drive had accidentally gone into my pendant.
For three years, I'd carried evidence capable of destroying Dominic Caruso around my neck.
Until Trevor stole it.
“Where is the necklace?”
“Caruso bought it from the pawnshop.”
My stomach dropped.
“Then he has the drive.”
“Maybe.”
“What does maybe mean?”
“The pendant was empty.”
Someone had removed it first.
Trevor.
We found him the following night.
Barely alive.
Dumped behind a warehouse.
Vincent brought him to a private doctor.
When Trevor woke, I stood beside the bed.
He cried when he saw me.
“Harper.”
I felt nothing.
That surprised me.
Maybe betrayal could burn hotter than fire until eventually there was simply nothing left to consume.
“Where is the drive?”
His face changed.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
Trevor closed his eyes.
“I found it inside your necklace after the fire.”
“You stole my necklace.”
“I needed money.”
“Twenty-five thousand wasn't enough?”
He flinched.
“I owed eighty.”
“To Caruso?”
“To people connected to him.”
“And you sold me.”
“No.”
“You gave them our address.”
“I told them you were the nurse from Mercy.”
That hurt differently.
“You gave them my name.”
Trevor began crying.
“I didn't know what they wanted.”
“You never asked.”
“No.”
“You took money anyway.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the man I once thought would stay forever.
“Where is the drive?”
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
Trevor looked at Vincent.
Fear entered his face.
Vincent said nothing.
Trevor looked back at me.
“The old apartment.”
My breath stopped.
“Where?”
“Inside the smoke detector.”
The building had been condemned.
We went anyway.
Vincent objected.
I ignored him.
“You cannot go inside.”
“I survived it once.”
“That doesn't mean you need to prove anything.”
“I'm not proving anything.”
“You're shaking.”
I looked at my hands.
He was right.
The burned building waited across the street.
Black windows.
Boarded doors.
I could smell smoke even though there wasn't any.
Memory.
Vincent stood beside me.
“You don't have to go in.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm tired of everyone else entering the worst moments of my life and telling me what they found.”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
We went together.
Inside, the apartment was almost unrecognizable.
My old kitchen.
Gone.
The table.
Gone.
Photographs.
Books.
Everything.
I froze outside the bedroom.
Vincent stopped behind me.
“Harper.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you're not.”
The words should have annoyeded me.
Instead, they relieved me.
Someone was finally allowing me not to be fine.
“I can still hear it.”
“The fire?”
“Trevor coughing.”
My voice shook.
“I went back because I thought if I left him there, I'd be abandoning someone.”
Vincent said quietly:
“And no one had ever come back for you.”
I turned.
“How do you know that?”
He knew about foster care.
My history.
Seven homes.
No permanent family.
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“That's creepy.”
“Yes.”
I almost laughed.
Then Vincent said:
“I wanted to know the name of the woman who saved me.”
Something passed between us.
I looked away.
We found the drive.
Exactly where Trevor said.
Back at Vincent's house, his technology team decrypted it.
Accounts.
Politicians.
Police officers.
Judges.
Caruso's entire network.
But there was something else.
A video file.
Dated four months earlier.
The night of my fire.
We opened it.
Security footage from across the street.
Trevor entered our building at 8:17.
At 8:26, two men followed.
At 8:41, they left.
Smoke appeared at 8:47.
Then another figure emerged from the alley.
Vincent paused the video.
His face changed.
“What?”
He enlarged the image.
A man stood beside a black sedan.
Watching my building burn.
I recognized him.
I'd seen him inside Vincent's mansion twice.
One of his senior men.
Vincent whispered the name.
“Marco.”
I looked at him.
“Your man was there?”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
But something in his face told me the truth was worse.
Marco wasn't just one of Vincent's men.
He was his cousin.
His second-in-command.
And before we could say anything else, alarms screamed throughout the mansion.
Vincent grabbed my arm.
“Stay behind me.”
Gunfire erupted downstairs.
His men shouted.
Glass shattered.
Vincent pulled me into the hallway.
Then Marco's voice came over the security system.
“Vincent.”
Everything became silent.
“You should have let the nurse die three years ago.”
Vincent's face hardened.
May you like
Marco continued.
“Now I'm going to finish what Caruso started.”
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