Chapter 2 - Adrian Tested His Fiancée Instead of Confronting Her—And the Trap She Set Led Straight to Mara’s Sick BrotherAdrian didn't take me home.
He didn't order me to stay either.
He asked.
“Do you feel safe going home tonight?”
“No.”
Honest.
“Would you feel safer at one of my hotels?”
“Not particularly.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Why?”
“Because the people trying to kill you probably know which hotels you own.”
“Reasonable.”
“Do you have somewhere they don't know?”
He thought.
“My sister's apartment.”
“You have sister?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know you're mafia boss?”
His mouth almost moved.
“She suspects.”
I laughed despite fear.
It was first time I saw Adrian as person rather than reputation.
His sister, Cecilia Cross, was a pediatric surgeon who lived in Lincoln Park.
She opened door at two morning wearing sweatpants.
Looked at Adrian.
Looked at me.
Looked at armed man behind us.
“No.”
Adrian sighed.
“Cecilia.”
“No blood on rug.”
“No one's bleeding.”
She pointed at his cheek.
“That's blood.”
“Not mine.”
“Somehow worse.”
Then she looked at me.
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
“Come in.”
Adrian stayed outside.
That surprised me.
“Aren't you coming?”
He shook head.
“People are hunting me. Better if I don't sleep here.”
“But they know I'm involved.”
“I've placed security outside.”
I crossed arms.
“Without asking?”
“Yes.”
“We need work on that.”
“I've been told.”
By whom?
Probably many people.
Before leaving he said:
“Mara.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“My life.”
I didn't know what to say.
So:
“You're welcome.”
Then:
“Don't waste it.”
His expression changed.
“I'll try.”
Next morning Owen was moved to secure hospital floor.
He had a degenerative kidney condition complicated by autoimmune disease.
Not immediately fatal.
Expensive.
Painful.
Unpredictable.
Our mother worked part-time.
I worked constantly.
Owen pretended everything was fine.
It wasn't.
Adrian discovered Vanessa's foundation had paid twelve thousand dollars.
But payment was strange.
It had been authorized before attack.
Vanessa knew me before I knew her.
Why?
Adrian created test.
He told Vanessa he had recovered encrypted drive from attacker.
There was no drive.
He told only three people.
Vanessa.
Marco.
His uncle Victor Cross.
Within four hours someone attempted to break into supposed evidence vault.
The intruder carried access code belonging to Victor.
But camera showed Vanessa giving code to him.
Not directly.
Through intermediary.
Adrian showed footage.
I stared.
“So she betrayed you.”
“Yes.”
“You okay?”
He looked almost surprised.
“Why ask?”
“Because you were going to marry her.”
“Everyone else asks what I'll do to her.”
“I asked how you feel.”
Long silence.
“I don't know.”
That was most human thing he had said.
Vanessa disappeared.
Then Owen vanished from hospital.
Not violently.
Someone forged transfer authorization.
Ambulance arrived.
Hospital released him.
By time we knew, vehicle was gone.
I screamed at Adrian.
Not because fault was his.
Because fear needed target.
“You said security!”
“I know.”
“You said he'd be safe!”
“I know.”
“You promised!”
“No.”
That stopped me.
He looked devastated.
“I said I'd do everything I could.”
I hated him for being accurate.
Then hated myself for hating him.
“Find him.”
“I will.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Don't tell me what I want to hear.”
His eyes held mine.
“Tell me truth.”
He nodded.
“We may not find him quickly.”
My throat closed.
“But?”
“But I will use everything I have.”
“Legal?”
“Everything.”
I knew what that meant.
I didn't object.
Not then.
Video arrived.
Owen tied to chair.
Alive.
Vanessa stood behind him.
No diamonds.
No elegant dress.
Just black coat.
She looked into camera.
“Mara.”
I stopped breathing.
“You should've minded your business.”
Owen shouted:
“Don't do anything!”
Someone hit him.
I lunged toward screen as if could stop it.
Adrian caught himself before touching me.
His hands stopped inches from shoulders.
“Can I?”
I nodded.
He steadied me.
Vanessa continued.
“Adrian has something that belongs to us.”
Adrian whispered:
“What?”
“Ledger.”
Vanessa smiled into camera.
“He knows.”
Adrian went still.
I turned.
“What ledger?”
He didn't answer.
“Adrian.”
“A record.”
“Of?”
“My father's organization.”
“What is in it?”
“Names.”
“Whose?”
“Police. Judges. politicians. businessmen.”
“And?”
“Murders.”
My stomach dropped.
Vanessa wanted evidence capable of destroying half Chicago.
Owen was leverage.
I looked at Adrian.
“Give it.”
He stared.
“No hesitation?”
“That's my brother.”
“Mara, if ledger disappears—”
“That's my brother.”
“I know.”
“Then give it.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
No lecture about greater good.
No demand I sacrifice Owen.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“We give them something.”
“What?”
“A copy.”
“You think they'll accept?”
“No.”
“So?”
“We make them believe original.”
Plan formed.
Exchange at abandoned freight terminal.
Of course.
Everything involving organized crime apparently happened at abandoned industrial properties.
I insisted going.
Adrian said no.
Then stopped.
Closed eyes.
Corrected:
“I don't want you to.”
“Better.”
“You'll be target.”
“Owen needs see me.”
“I can get him.”
“He won't trust you.”
Adrian looked frustrated.
Then:
“Your choice.”
We went.
Vanessa waited with six armed men.
And Victor Cross.
Adrian's uncle.
There it was.
Real betrayal.
Vanessa hadn't built conspiracy.
Victor had.
He had helped raise Adrian after father died.
He had introduced Vanessa.
Encouraged engagement.
Controlled security schedules.
He knew every weakness.
Adrian looked at him.
“Why?”
Victor smiled.
“Because your father left empire to boy.”
Adrian's face hardened.
“I was twenty-nine.”
“A boy.”
“You waited nine years?”
“I built nine years.”
Victor looked at me.
“And then waitress almost ruined everything.”
I stared.
“You paid Owen's bill.”
“Vanessa did.”
“Why?”
“To create relationship.”
Vanessa smiled.
“You were supposed to become useful later.”
“How?”
Victor answered.
“Adrian eats here every Thursday.”
My stomach dropped.
They had studied staff.
My observational skills.
Family vulnerability.
They intended to recruit me.
Threaten Owen.
Use me to poison Adrian or deliver something.
But I noticed trap before they approached me.
Their backup plan became kidnapping.
I looked at Vanessa.
“You were going to make me kill him.”
“Yes.”
She said it casually.
Adrian's expression changed.
Not fear.
Something else.
He looked at me.
“You saved me before you knew they wanted you to kill me.”
“Apparently.”
“That's inconvenient.”
I almost laughed.
Victor demanded ledger.
Adrian held case.
“Release Owen.”
“No.”
“Then no ledger.”
Gun pressed against Owen's head.
My body went cold.
Adrian didn't move.
Then Owen did.
My brother had always been underestimated.
He dropped chair sideways.
Gunman stumbled.
Chaos.
Adrian's men moved.
Shots.
I hit ground.
Vanessa ran.
Victor fired toward Adrian.
I saw.
“Adrian!”
He turned.
Shot hit shoulder.
He went down.
I crawled.
Owen screamed my name.
Police sirens erupted.
Federal teams stormed terminal.
Victor was arrested.
Vanessa escaped.
Adrian lay against concrete.
Blood soaked shirt.
I pressed hands to wound.
“Stay with me.”
His face was pale.
“You're bossy.”
“You're bleeding.”
“Observation.”
“Shut up.”
He almost smiled.
Then eyes closed.
“Adrian!”
At hospital, doctors said bullet passed through shoulder.
Painful.
Not fatal.
Owen had fractured wrist.
Otherwise safe.
I sat between rooms.
At four morning Cecilia found me.
“He'll be okay.”
“I know.”
“You saved him twice.”
I shook head.
“He saved Owen.”
“Both can be true.”
I looked at her.
“Was he always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Controlled.”
She laughed.
“No.”
Then sadness.
“Our father was murdered when Adrian was twenty-nine.”
I knew public story: car accident.
Apparently not.
“Victor?”
“We don't know.”
Now maybe we did.
Cecilia sat.
“Adrian became head because everyone else would've torn family apart.”
“Did he want it?”
“No.”
That mattered.
“He was studying architecture.”
I blinked.
“Architecture?”
“He wanted to design hospitals.”
I looked toward room.
The feared Adrian Cross.
Architecture student.
Life made strange things from people.
When he woke, I was beside bed.
His eyes opened.
“Mara?”
“Yes.”
“Owen?”
“Safe.”
He exhaled.
Then looked at my hand resting near his.
Not touching.
He moved fingers.
Stopped.
I understood.
I took his hand.
His eyes closed.
For first time, danger didn't feel like thing entering room.
It felt like thing leaving.
But Vanessa was still out there.
And two days later, a package arrived for me.
Inside was photograph of my father.
The father who supposedly disappeared twenty years earlier.
He was standing beside Victor Cross.
Photograph dated six months ago.
May you like
On back Vanessa had written:
ASK ADRIAN WHY YOUR FATHER ISN'T DEAD.
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