Chapter 4 - THE TRAITOR AT BLACKTHORNEI said nothing about Vincent.
Not because I trusted him.
Because I didn’t know whether Dominic would believe me.
Vincent Caruso had protected Dominic for fourteen years.
He had carried Caleb out of the hospital after the boy broke his arm at four.
He had stood beside Dominic at his wife’s funeral.
Men like that became family.
Accusing family without proof could get people killed.
Sometimes literally.
Dominic arranged a private medical transport back to Blackthorne that evening.
The surgeon objected.
Dominic solved the disagreement with money, security, and an ICU nurse who suddenly received three times her normal salary.
I spent the drive staring through tinted windows.
“You’re doing it again,” Dominic said.
“What?”
“Counting vehicles.”
I glanced at him.
“Four behind us. Two ahead.”
“Five behind.”
I looked again.
A black Suburban had joined the convoy.
“You added one.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To see whether you were paying attention.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“You’re irritating.”
“So I’ve been told.”
A moment later his expression changed.
“Who do you distrust?”
My smile disappeared.
“Everyone.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only safe answer.”
Dominic leaned back.
“Then start with me.”
I studied him.
“Why didn’t you investigate me?”
“I did.”
I stared.
“You told me you didn’t.”
“I lied.”
“That’s comforting.”
“My investigator found nothing.”
“Because Mara Ellis barely exists.”
“Exactly.”
He looked out the window.
“I knew your references were false.”
My heart stopped.
“You hired me anyway?”
“You were applying for a housekeeping job, not access to Mercer Capital.”
“Still.”
“I was curious.”
“That sounds like a dangerous quality for a man in your profession.”
Dominic looked at me.
“My profession is investing.”
“Of course.”
His mouth twitched.
Then the humor disappeared.
“Why Blackthorne?”
“Because ordinary employers call the police when suspicious people start asking questions.”
“And you assumed I wouldn’t?”
“I assumed you would ask your own questions first.”
“You were right.”
Blackthorne had changed when we returned.
The beautiful estate was gone.
In its place was a fortress.
Armed men guarded every entrance.
Electronic shutters covered lower windows.
Vehicles blocked the service drive.
Dominic’s younger sister Sofia ran toward us.
Her face was swollen from crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Dominic pulled her into his arms.
“They drugged me.”
“What?”
“A woman in hospital scrubs gave me coffee.”
Sofia shook.
“I woke up in a supply closet.”
Dominic held her tighter.
“This isn’t your fault.”
I watched Vincent enter behind us.
His expression was perfectly concerned.
Too perfect?
Maybe I was seeing ghosts.
The call came at 10:03 p.m.
Dominic placed the phone on speaker.
A man’s voice.
Not distorted this time.
“Elena.”
My chest tightened.
“Dad?”
Silence.
Then:
“Leni.”
My eyes filled instantly.
Nobody else had called me that.
Not since I was a child.
I gripped the edge of the table.
“Prove it.”
A weak laugh.
“You were nine when you broke the kitchen window and blamed the neighbor’s cat.”
I closed my eyes.
Dominic watched me.
“It’s him,” I whispered.
My father continued.
“Do not bring the archive.”
“They have Caleb.”
“I know.”
“Then help us.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Explain it.”
“The archive isn’t about old crimes anymore.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
My father went quiet.
“Dominic Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“You should have stayed away from my daughter.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“She works in my house.”
“No.”
My father coughed.
“She went to your house because I told her to.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
There was noise on the other end.
My father spoke urgently.
“Blackthorne was never random.”
Then someone struck him.
I heard it.
“Dad!”
A different voice came on.
“Midnight tomorrow.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Dominic turned slowly.
“You chose my house because your father told you to?”
“No.”
“He just said—”
“I heard him.”
“Then explain.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t remember?”
“No!”
I pushed myself up too fast.
Pain cut through my ribs.
Dominic steadied me.
“Don’t.”
“Eight years ago, after the explosion, there are pieces missing.”
“What pieces?”
“Hours. Sometimes days.”
I looked at him.
“I remember escaping. I remember Hale. I remember running. But there are things my father told me that night that I can’t recall.”
“Trauma?”
“Probably.”
Dominic didn’t look convinced.
Neither was I.
Later that night, I returned to my small room in the staff wing.
Someone had been inside.
Nothing obvious was missing.
But the framed photograph on my dresser had shifted half an inch.
I opened the drawer beneath it.
Empty.
My emergency passport was gone.
So was the cash.
Somebody wanted me unable to run.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I spun.
Vincent stood in the doorway.
“You shouldn’t be walking.”
I smiled.
“You shouldn’t enter women’s rooms without knocking.”
He didn’t smile back.
“We need to talk.”
“About Caleb?”
“About Dominic.”
I sat slowly.
Vincent closed the door.
“You care about the boy.”
“Yes.”
“And Dominic?”
My expression didn’t change.
“That isn’t your business.”
“Everything involving his safety is my business.”
“Interesting.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Nothing.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“You’re hiding something.”
“So are you.”
Silence.
There.
His face changed.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
I continued.
“I saw you look at Hale.”
“When?”
“In the hospital.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Maybe.”
Vincent leaned down.
“You don’t know anything about this family.”
“Then educate me.”
“Dominic thinks loyalty means people never lie to him.”
“And you disagree?”
“I think sometimes loyalty requires lying.”
My hand drifted toward the lamp beside me.
Heavy enough to use as a weapon.
Vincent noticed.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
“You really are Elias’s daughter.”
Before I could react, the door opened.
Dominic stood there.
He looked from Vincent to me.
“What’s going on?”
Vincent straightened.
“I was checking security.”
“In her bedroom?”
Neither of us answered.
Dominic’s eyes cooled.
“Get out.”
Vincent left.
Dominic waited until the door closed.
“Something happened.”
“My passport disappeared.”
His head snapped toward the drawer.
“Anything else?”
“Cash.”
“Who knew it was there?”
“No one.”
Dominic walked to the door.
I stopped him.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask questions.”
“You’ll warn them.”
He turned.
“Warn who?”
I hesitated.
This was the moment.
“Someone inside your house helped take Caleb.”
“I know.”
“And I think—”
An explosion shook the estate.
Glass shattered.
Dominic threw himself over me as the lights died.
Alarms screamed.
Gunfire erupted downstairs.
Not one shot.
Dozens.
Dominic drew a pistol from beneath his jacket.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“You’ve been shot three times.”
“And your son has been kidnapped.”
“This attack may be for you.”
“Exactly.”
Another explosion.
Smoke entered the hallway.
Dominic swore.
We moved toward the service stairs.
Below us, men shouted.
Then Vincent appeared through the smoke.
Blood ran from his forehead.
“East gate breached.”
“How many?” Dominic demanded.
“Unknown.”
“Get Sofia to the safe room.”
“She’s already there.”
Vincent looked at me.
Then pulled something from his pocket.
My passport.
He held it out.
I stared.
“You took it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you would run.”
Dominic raised his weapon.
“Vincent.”
“Boss, listen.”
“You have five seconds.”
Vincent looked at me.
“I recognized her the first day she arrived.”
My breath stopped.
“I knew who Mara was.”
Dominic’s gun lifted.
“And you said nothing?”
“Because Elias told me not to.”
The hallway went silent except for the alarms.
I whispered, “You know my father?”
Vincent reached inside his jacket.
Dominic aimed directly at his chest.
“Slowly.”
Vincent removed an envelope.
He handed it to me.
My name was written across the front.
Not Mara.
Elena.
The handwriting belonged to my father.
My hands shook as I opened it.
There was only one page.
Leni, if you are reading this, then everything has gone wrong.
I continued.
Then stopped.
Dominic saw my expression.
“What?”
I handed him the page.
He read the final paragraph.
His face changed.
Eight years earlier, my father had discovered that someone inside the Mercer organization was selling information to a coalition of rival families.
He had hidden proof inside his archive.
And before disappearing, he had made one arrangement.
If Elena Voss ever became endangered, she was to go to the safest place he knew.
Blackthorne House.
Because Elias Voss trusted one man to protect her.
Dominic’s father.
Dominic looked up.
“My father knew yours.”
Vincent nodded.
“More than knew him.”
Another blast shook the corridor.
Vincent turned toward the smoke.
“They’re not attacking the house to kill Elena.”
“Then why?”
Vincent checked his weapon.
“They want us looking outward.”
Dominic understood first.
“The archive.”
Vincent nodded.
“They’ve finally figured out where it is.”
I shook my head.
“They can’t.”
“You moved it,” Vincent said.
“Yes.”
He looked directly at me.
“But did you ever ask who moved it for you?”
My stomach dropped.
Because I had.
Eight years earlier.
One man.
The only person I trusted after my father died.
Detective Warren Hale.
And suddenly I understood.
May you like
Hale had never lost track of the archive.
He had been waiting for me to lead him to the final key.
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