Chapter 2 - Her Father Didn't Die in an AccidentNobody left the Marlo Opera House until two in the morning.
Two hundred guests were interviewed.
Phones were checked.
Staff lists examined.
Clara sat inside Adrien's private car with a blanket around her shoulders.
She hated the blanket.
It made her feel like a victim.
“You're staring at it like it offended you,” Adrien said.
“I don't need it.”
“You're shaking.”
“Adrenaline.”
“Still shaking.”
She threw the blanket at him.
He caught it.
“Problem solved.”
Adrien almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“You're not going home.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
“Someone left your childhood photograph at the scene of an attempted murder.”
“My apartment has locks.”
“So did the opera house.”
Clara hated that he had a point.
“Where exactly am I supposed to go?”
“My house.”
She laughed.
He didn't.
“Oh.”
“You'll have your own room.”
“I should hope so.”
That earned the smile.
Small.
Unexpected.
And dangerously attractive.
Clara immediately looked away.
An hour later they reached Adrien's estate outside Chicago.
It was enormous.
Not flashy.
Old money.
Stone walls.
Iron gates.
Trees hiding cameras.
Inside, Marco brought them to Adrien's study.
A safe was opened.
Adrien removed an old photograph.
Clara recognized her father immediately.
Daniel Hayes stood beside an older man she assumed was Adrien's father, Salvatore Moretti.
Three other men stood with them.
Arthur Vale.
A businessman named Robert Kane.
And a younger Marco Bell.
Clara looked at Marco.
“You knew my father.”
Marco looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“You said nothing.”
“I was twenty-two.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Adrien stepped in.
“Let him explain.”
Marco exhaled.
“Your father wasn't just a rigger.”
Clara stared.
“He worked with us.”
“With the Moretti family?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“Installing surveillance equipment.”
Clara almost laughed.
“My father installed stage equipment.”
“And sometimes other things.”
The truth emerged slowly.
Daniel Hayes had been hired by Salvatore Moretti to install hidden surveillance systems inside buildings used by organized crime figures.
He knew rigging.
Electrical systems.
Old architecture.
He could place cameras where nobody would find them.
Then Daniel discovered something.
Someone inside Salvatore's organization was secretly recording Moretti meetings and selling information.
Daniel identified the traitor.
Before he could reveal the name, he died.
At the Marlo.
Clara stared at Marco.
“And everyone believed he forgot his harness?”
“No.”
Her eyes moved to Adrien.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“Your father?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
Adrien's voice hardened.
“My father took secrets to his grave.”
Clara stood.
“I need air.”
She walked toward the door.
Adrien followed.
“Clara.”
She turned.
“My entire childhood changed because my father died.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“My father died too.”
“Did everyone tell you he was careless?”
Adrien stopped.
“Did insurance investigators tell your mother her husband caused his own death?”
“No.”
“Did your mother have to sell your house?”
“No.”
“Did you start working at fifteen?”
“No.”
“Then don't tell me you know.”
Adrien accepted that.
“I don't.”
The simple answer disarmed her.
He continued.
“But I can help you find out.”
“Why?”
“Because someone tried to kill both of us tonight.”
“No.”
Clara looked directly at him.
“They tried to kill you.”
She pointed toward herself.
“They wanted me to watch.”
Adrien considered that.
She was right.
Why?
Marco interrupted.
“We found something.”
A hidden folder inside Salvatore Moretti's safe.
Daniel Hayes.
Dozens of pages.
And one handwritten note.
DANIEL FOUND THE SECOND LEDGER.
Clara asked, “What ledger?”
Adrien knew.
His father had always maintained two accounting systems.
One legitimate.
One private.
But a second private ledger?
He had never heard of it.
They searched until sunrise.
At 6:12 a.m., Clara found something.
A photograph of her father beside a theater blueprint.
She recognized Daniel's handwriting.
Numbers appeared beside structural measurements.
They weren't measurements.
“They're coordinates.”
Adrien looked closer.
“For what?”
Clara suddenly remembered something her father used to tell her.
Every theater has a second stage.
The one the audience never sees.
“Basement.”
They returned to the Marlo.
Beneath the main stage was an old counterweight room.
Clara found a wall panel that shouldn't exist.
Behind it was a metal box.
Inside:
A ledger.
Photographs.
Cassette tapes.
And a letter addressed to Clara.
Her hands trembled.
My Clara,
If you're reading this, I failed to come home.
She stopped.
Adrien waited.
“You don't have to read it now.”
“Yes, I do.”
She continued.
Her father explained everything.
He had discovered that Robert Kane and Arthur Vale were stealing money from both the Moretti organization and legitimate pension funds.
Millions.
But money wasn't the worst part.
They were arranging murders and disguising them as accidents.
Daniel had discovered four.
His own death became the fifth.
Clara lowered the letter.
“Arthur Vale.”
Adrien looked at Marco.
“Where is he?”
Marco was already calling.
No answer.
Then Clara turned another page.
There was a list of planned targets.
Most names were decades old.
One wasn't.
ADRIEN MORETTI.
Beside it:
MARLO GALA.
TONIGHT.
Clara stared.
“My father wrote this twelve years ago.”
Adrien shook his head.
“He couldn't have known.”
“Then someone added it.”
Different ink.
Recent.
Somebody had found Daniel's hiding place before them.
Somebody knew the ledger existed.
And someone wanted Clara to find it.
Marco suddenly drew his weapon.
“Down!”
The basement window shattered.
A bullet struck the wall.
Adrien threw Clara behind the concrete foundation.
More shots.
Marco returned fire.
Then silence.
Security searched outside.
The shooter was gone.
But he left something behind.
A phone.
It rang.
Adrien answered.
Arthur Vale's voice.
“Hello, son.”
Adrien's face changed.
Nobody had called him that since Salvatore died.
“Arthur.”
“Congratulations on surviving.”
“Where are you?”
“Close.”
“You killed Daniel Hayes.”
A pause.
Then Arthur laughed.
“No.”
Clara grabbed the phone.
“Who did?”
Arthur's answer destroyed everything.
“Ask Marco.”
Clara slowly turned.
May you like
Marco Bell was standing behind her.
Gun in hand.
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