Chapter 2 - My Father Whispered That the Mafia Boss's Brother Was Never Supposed to Die—Then Someone Left a Bloody Warning Outside My Bedroom“Miles Vale wasn't supposed to be on that platform.”
My father said the words as though he regretted them before they left his mouth.
I stared at him across his office desk.
“What does that mean?”
He looked toward the closed door.
“Audrey, please.”
“No. You don't get to do that.”
His expression tightened.
“Do what?”
“Drop a sentence like that and then ask me to forget it.”
My father rubbed his forehead.
“You have no idea what you're getting involved in.”
“I'm married to Graham Vale. I think we're past the point of pretending I'm uninvolved.”
He stood and closed the blinds.
That frightened me more than anything he could have said.
My father had always been a proud man.
Stubborn.
Occasionally arrogant.
But I had never seen him afraid of someone who wasn't in the room.
“The inspection report was changed,” he whispered.
I felt cold.
“What?”
“After the accident. The report submitted to investigators wasn't the original.”
“Who changed it?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Dad.”
“I swear to you, I don't know.”
I studied him.
“You signed it.”
His face collapsed.
“I signed what they put in front of me.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the window again.
Then whispered a name.
“Everett Vale.”
I returned to Beacon Hill feeling as though the entire city had shifted beneath my feet.
Everett Vale.
Graham's uncle.
The man who stood to gain control of the family trust if Graham failed to satisfy the marriage condition.
I knew Everett only from our wedding.
He had been charming.
Silver-haired.
Perfectly dressed.
He had kissed my hand and told me I was a beautiful addition to the family.
Now I wondered whether he had been smiling because he knew something nobody else did.
I found Graham in his study.
He was reviewing shipping contracts.
“Your uncle visited my father's company after Miles died.”
Graham looked up.
His expression changed immediately.
“What?”
“He arranged for an inspection report to be revised.”
Graham stood.
“Who told you that?”
“My father.”
“Your father has spent four years blaming everyone but himself.”
“He admitted signing the revised report.”
Graham's jaw tightened.
“Then he's admitting fraud.”
“Yes.”
The word hung between us.
Graham stared at me.
“You understand what you're saying?”
“I understand that your brother may have died because someone wanted to hide something.”
His face went pale.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he reached for his phone.
“I'm calling Everett.”
I stepped forward.
“Don't.”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because if he was involved, calling him tells him we're looking.”
Graham stared.
I folded my arms.
“I'm a compliance consultant. I investigate people who hide things for a living.”
A strange expression crossed his face.
“That's a rather inconvenient skill in my family.”
“I'm beginning to notice.”
For the first time that afternoon, he almost smiled.
Then the smile vanished.
“Let me see what your father has.”
Three days later, I received an envelope.
No return address.
No note.
Just a photograph.
Miles Vale stood beside a construction platform wearing a yellow safety helmet.
He was smiling.
Beside him stood Everett Vale.
And behind them, partially obscured by a support beam, was a man I recognized immediately.
Victor Sloane.
Graham's head of private security.
I stared at the photograph.
Victor had been at our wedding.
He had driven me to the museum fundraiser.
He had stood outside Graham's study every morning.
And he had told me that he had never met Miles.
I turned the photograph over.
Four words had been written on the back.
ASK WHO CUT THE CABLE.
That evening, Graham found me sitting on the bedroom floor.
The photograph lay beside me.
He picked it up.
His face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“It arrived today.”
He studied it.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“Victor.”
I nodded.
“He told me he'd never met Miles.”
Graham looked toward the door.
For a moment, I saw the mafia boss everyone feared.
Cold.
Controlled.
Dangerously quiet.
Then he turned back to me.
“Don't tell anyone about this.”
“Graham—”
“Please.”
The word surprised me.
He noticed.
And for a moment, his expression softened.
“Someone is trying to frighten you.”
“It's working.”
He sat beside me.
Not too close.
But close enough that I could feel the warmth of his shoulder.
“I won't let anyone hurt you.”
I looked at him.
“You told me I meant nothing.”
His expression changed.
I watched him struggle for an answer.
Finally, he said, “I was wrong to say that.”
My heart stumbled.
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to ask what I meant to him now.
But before I could, his phone rang.
Victor Sloane.
Graham answered.
“What?”
A pause.
His expression hardened.
“Where?”
Another pause.
Then he stood.
“Lock down the house.”
I rose.
“What happened?”
Graham looked at me.
His face was white.
“Someone broke into the family archive.”
My stomach dropped.
“And?”
He swallowed.
“They stole Miles's original accident file.”
Then he looked toward the bedroom window.
May you like
“And they left your name written in blood.”
End of Chapter 2.
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