Chapter 6 - The Man Inside My House
Nicholas moved every remaining Southport family that night.
He didn't call it evacuation.
That would've created panic.
Rourke Hotels suddenly discovered eleven complimentary rooms available to residents affected by an “emergency electrical inspection.”
Mrs. Alvarez refused.
“You trying to throw me out politely now?”
Nicholas stood in her doorway.
“No.”
“How do I know?”
“You don't.”
She stared at him.
“Good answer.”
“You can return after inspection.”
“You swear?”
“Yes.”
“On your mother?”
Nicholas stiffened.
That phrase belonged to another era.
People swore on mothers, wives, graves.
“I give you my word.”
Mrs. Alvarez studied him.
“Your word worth anything?”
“I'm trying to make it.”
She packed.
By midnight, Southport was empty.
Federal investigators placed surveillance around the building.
Nicholas expected Patrick to move.
He didn't.
That worried him.
At one in the morning, Nicholas returned to his mansion.
Emily and Lucy were there.
So was Adrian.
The house felt unnaturally quiet after half the staff had been removed.
Nicholas entered his office.
The stuffed rabbit sat on his desk.
He stared.
Lucy had carried Bunny upstairs earlier.
He was sure of it.
“Emily?”
No answer.
He touched the rabbit.
Something underneath.
A note.
YOU KEEP LOOKING OUTSIDE.
Nicholas drew his weapon.
Footsteps behind him.
He turned.
Adrian stood in the doorway.
Hands visible.
“What?”
Nicholas showed him.
Adrian's face changed.
“Where's Emily?”
They ran.
Guest suite.
Empty.
Crib.
Empty.
Nicholas's blood went cold.
“Lucy!”
No answer.
He hit the security panel.
Offline.
Someone had shut down internal cameras.
Again.
But Marcus was in custody.
Graham missing.
Patrick under observation.
Who remained?
Nicholas grabbed a radio.
Static.
Then a child's cry echoed faintly from downstairs.
“Lucy!”
He followed it.
Kitchen.
Empty.
Service corridor.
A door slowly swinging.
Beyond it, stairs led into the old wine cellar.
Nicholas descended.
One light burned.
Emily sat on the floor.
Lucy in her arms.
A man stood behind them with a gun.
Leonard Price.
Southport's property manager.
Nicholas stopped.
Leonard smiled nervously.
“I didn't want this.”
“Then put the gun down.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“Patrick said—”
There.
The name.
Emily closed her eyes.
Nicholas lowered his pistol slightly.
“Patrick isn't here.”
“He'll protect me.”
“No.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know Patrick.”
Leonard's hand shook.
Nicholas noticed.
Not trained.
Not comfortable.
Desperate men were dangerous differently.
“What does he want?”
“The drive.”
“Doesn't matter anymore.”
“It matters to him.”
“Federal investigators have copies.”
Leonard blinked.
He hadn't known.
“He said if I brought the woman and kid—”
“He'd pay you?”
“He'd get me out.”
“From what?”
Leonard looked sick.
“Debt.”
Nicholas almost laughed.
There it was.
Not ideology.
Not family war.
Debt.
Patrick had found a weak man and purchased his fear.
“How much?”
“Six hundred thousand.”
Emily stared at him.
“You terrorized an entire building because you owed money?”
Leonard flinched.
“It wasn't supposed to—”
“Mrs. Alvarez slept without a door in January.”
“I didn't order that.”
“You let it happen.”
Emily's anger sharpened.
“My daughter was afraid to sleep because men kept pounding on our door.”
Leonard looked away.
Nicholas said quietly, “She's right.”
Leonard's gun shifted.
“Don't.”
Nicholas froze.
Lucy began crying harder.
Leonard looked overwhelmed.
Nicholas changed tactics.
“What do you want right now?”
“A car.”
“You can have one.”
“Cash.”
“How much?”
“One million.”
“Fine.”
Emily looked at him.
Nicholas didn't.
Leonard laughed nervously.
“You just say yes?”
“You're asking for things I can replace.”
“And them?”
Nicholas looked at Emily and Lucy.
“No.”
Something in his voice changed the room.
Leonard understood.
“Move away from the door.”
Nicholas did.
“Put the gun down.”
Nicholas placed it slowly on the floor.
Emily's eyes widened.
Leonard smiled.
“Kick it.”
Nicholas kicked.
The pistol slid away.
Leonard's shoulders relaxed by a fraction.
Mistake.
Nicholas moved.
Fast enough that Leonard fired into the ceiling.
Emily covered Lucy.
Nicholas hit Leonard's wrist.
Gun fell.
They crashed into a wine rack.
Bottles shattered.
Leonard swung wildly.
Nicholas drove him into the wall and pinned him.
Old instincts returned.
His forearm against Leonard's throat.
Pressure.
More.
He could finish it.
Easy.
A terrified child cried behind him.
“Nick!”
Nicholas stopped.
Lucy.
He looked over his shoulder.
She stared at him.
Wide-eyed.
Afraid.
Not of Leonard.
Of Nicholas.
That was enough.
He released the man.
Leonard collapsed coughing.
Nicholas backed away.
Adrian and two federal agents rushed downstairs seconds later.
They handcuffed Leonard.
Emily remained on the floor holding Lucy.
Nicholas approached slowly.
The toddler buried her face in her mother's neck.
He stopped.
Something painful moved through him.
He didn't know why her fear bothered him so much.
Maybe because adults fearing Nicholas had always seemed useful.
A child fearing him felt like failure.
“Lucy.”
She peeked.
Nicholas crouched several feet away.
“I'm sorry.”
Emily looked at him.
“You saved us.”
“She saw something she shouldn't.”
Emily understood.
“You stopped.”
“Barely.”
“But you stopped.”
Lucy watched him.
Then slowly held Bunny toward him.
Nicholas took it.
Trust returned faster in children than adults deserved.
The next morning Leonard began talking.
Patrick had recruited him three years earlier.
Graham handled money.
Marcus handled surveillance.
Leonard handled tenants.
But there was another name.
Someone inside Nicholas's mansion.
An employee who had copied schedules, security codes, voice samples, and private signatures for years.
“Who?” Nicholas asked.
Leonard swallowed.
“Your executive assistant.”
Nicholas stared.
“Claire?”
Claire Benson.
Worked for Nicholas eleven years.
Managed his calendars.
Travel.
Documents.
Access.
She knew everything.
He remembered the toddler entering his office.
The no-staff rule.
The camera.
Graham's instant knowledge.
Claire had been outside the office that morning.
She had even arranged the meeting.
Nicholas looked toward Adrian.
“Where is she?”
Adrian checked.
Then looked up.
“She left Chicago three hours ago.”
“Destination?”
“Private flight to Montreal.”
Nicholas's phone rang.
Claire.
He answered.
“Nicholas.”
Her voice sounded calm.
Almost sad.
“You finally figured it out.”
“Why?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“You destroyed my father's life.”
Nicholas frowned.
“Who was your father?”
A pause.
“Thomas Benson.”
Nicholas knew the name.
One of his father's bookmakers.
Convicted fifteen years ago.
Died in prison.
“You think I put him there?”
“You gave prosecutors the ledgers.”
Nicholas remembered.
His first attempt to clean part of the empire.
He had turned over records involving his father's gambling operation.
“I didn't know he had a daughter.”
“No.”
Claire's voice became harder.
“You never knew anything about the people underneath you.”
Daniel's words returned.
Your name scares people too much for them to reach you.
Claire continued.
“Patrick noticed me.”
“And used you.”
“He respected me.”
“No.”
Silence.
“He used your anger.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Where is Patrick?”
Claire laughed softly.
“You're still thinking about Patrick.”
Nicholas frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“He was never going to inherit your company.”
“Then why—”
The line ended.
Adrian looked at him.
“What?”
Nicholas stared at the phone.
A horrible possibility took shape.
Patrick wasn't the final architect.
He was another layer.
Another ambitious man being used.
Nicholas looked toward Daniel's files.
There had been one name missing from every document.
One person with enough history to understand the Rourke system before Nicholas rebuilt it.
Someone who knew Thomas Benson.
Someone who knew Patrick's resentment.
Someone who understood the family.
Nicholas whispered:
“My uncle.”
Adrian froze.
“Michael?”
Nicholas's father's younger brother.
Michael Rourke.
Retired twelve years earlier.
Living in Naples, Florida.
Supposedly.
Nicholas called.
Number disconnected.
Adrian checked travel records.
May you like
Michael had entered Chicago four days earlier.
The morning Lucy crawled into the office, he had been less than three miles away.
