Chapter 3 - THE MAN INSIDE GABRIEL’S HOUSE
Emergency lights came on red.
Dim.
Ugly.
The kind of light that makes every hallway look like an evacuation route.
Gabriel was already moving.
“Claire, bathroom.”
I did not argue.
Not because he was Gabriel Varrick.
Because Lily was shaking against me hard enough that her teeth clicked.
The bathroom had no windows.
Marble walls.
One door.
I carried Lily inside.
Gabriel followed long enough to look at her.
“I’ll be back.”
She did not answer.
His face tightened.
Then he looked at me.
“Lock this after me.”
“What’s happening?”
“Someone hit the power.”
“And the gunshot?”
“I don’t know.”
“Very comforting.”
He almost reacted.
Then:
“Don’t open for anyone except me or Dr. Shah.”
“What about your sister?”
His eyes went cold.
“Especially not her.”
He left.
I locked the door.
Lily clung to my neck.
I sat on the bathroom floor.
“Do you want the light?”
She nodded.
The emergency fixture glowed near the mirror.
Outside, feet pounded.
Men shouted.
A second gunshot.
Lily whimpered.
I covered her ears.
“Look at me.”
She wouldn’t.
Fine.
I took Maisy, the stuffed bear, from where I had carried her accidentally with the duvet.
“Maisy looks scared.”
Lily peeked.
“I think she needs instructions.”
Silence.
“What should she do?”
Lily breathed hard.
Then whispered:
“Hide.”
“Okay.”
I put the bear under a towel.
Lily almost smiled.
Outside, something crashed.
Her smile vanished.
Then:
“Mommy hid me.”
My body went still.
“During the car?”
Nod.
I waited.
No questions.
She continued on her own.
“Mommy pushed me down.”
My chest tightened.
“Seat floor.”
She pointed downward.
“Then glass.”
Her breathing quickened.
I slowed mine deliberately.
“Mommy said close eyes.”
She squeezed hers shut.
“And then?”
“Bang.”
I waited.
Lily’s eyes opened.
“Mommy stopped talking.”
There are sentences nurses train for.
There are no words for that one.
I touched her hand.
“Your mommy protected you.”
Her face crumpled.
“She didn’t wake.”
“I know.”
“Daddy yelled.”
I imagined Gabriel finding his wife bleeding beside their child.
Maybe I understood his exhaustion a little better.
Then Lily whispered:
“Aunt Celeste came before.”
My pulse changed.
“Before the car?”
Nod.
“At house?”
She shook her head.
“Garage.”
Interesting.
“What happened?”
Lily stared at the towel hiding Maisy.
Then:
“Mommy and Aunt fighting.”
“About what?”
No answer.
Too much.
I stopped.
Outside, somebody knocked.
Three hard hits.
“Claire.”
Gabriel.
I unlocked the door.
He entered with blood on his shirt.
My stomach dropped.
“Yours?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
“Anthony Russo.”
I did not know the name.
Gabriel did.
His expression told me Anthony mattered.
“Dead?”
“No.”
“Then why are you covered in blood?”
“He was shot trying to reach the security room.”
Lily saw the blood.
Her breathing changed.
Gabriel immediately took off the shirt.
Standing there in a white undershirt, tattoo visible near his shoulder, he looked less like a myth and more like a man whose house had become unsafe for his child.
“The power is back.”
He crouched.
“Lily?”
She looked at him.
“We found the shooter.”
His jaw tightened.
“One of my guards.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
“He’s not conscious.”
Then Gabriel looked at me.
“Celeste is gone.”
“What?”
“We locked the exits.”
“Apparently not well.”
His eyes flashed.
Good.
He deserved that.
“She used a service elevator tied to a private override.”
“Who had the code?”
“Me.”
“And?”
“My chief of security.”
“Anthony?”
“No.”
A man entered behind him.
Tall.
Salt-and-pepper hair.
Dark suit.
“Me.”
Gabriel turned.
“Victor.”
Victor Kane.
I recognized the name from tabloids.
Gabriel’s godfather.
Consigliere.
The man newspapers described as his “business strategist” because newspapers prefer euphemisms when billionaires are involved.
Victor looked at Lily.
Then me.
His eyes rested on me too long.
“What happened?”
Gabriel answered:
“Celeste left.”
Victor’s expression barely changed.
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
“Maybe she panicked.”
“Maybe.”
Victor looked toward Lily.
“What did she say?”
Again.
The same question.
Not:
Is she all right?
What did she say?
My body tightened.
Gabriel noticed.
“Enough to make Celeste run.”
Victor nodded slowly.
Then:
“You should move Lily.”
Gabriel’s jaw hardened.
“Where?”
“Westchester estate.”
“No.”
“Safer.”
“No.”
“Gabriel—”
“She watched her mother die in a car. I’m not putting her into another convoy tonight.”
Good.
Victor glanced toward me.
“She needs professional treatment.”
“She has doctors.”
“I mean inpatient.”
“No.”
I spoke before I could stop myself.
Victor looked at me.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you know what trauma-informed care means?”
His mouth thinned.
“I know what keeping a child alive means.”
“So do I.”
My mother’s hospital bill flashed through my mind.
I had entered this place for money.
Yet somehow this man made me forget I was supposed to be afraid.
Lily grabbed my sleeve.
“She stays here.”
Victor smiled without warmth.
“Children don’t make security decisions.”
Gabriel answered:
“Neither do you tonight.”
That changed the room.
Victor looked at him.
Then nodded.
“Your choice.”
He left.
I watched him go.
Then asked:
“Do you trust him?”
Gabriel’s expression did not move.
“I did.”
Past tense.
Good.
His phone buzzed.
He checked it.
A security photograph.
Celeste exiting through an underground loading area at 7:42.
Beside her:
A man wearing a maintenance jacket.
Victor’s assistant.
Gabriel zoomed.
His face emptied.
“Marcus Hale.”
“Who?”
“My wife’s former driver.”
The one driving the SUV during the ambush?
No.
That man died at the scene.
Marcus had been Elena’s backup driver until Gabriel fired him six months earlier for gambling debts.
Gabriel immediately called someone.
“Find Hale.”
He listened.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
Silence.
“When?”
He lowered the phone.
“Marcus Hale was found dead yesterday.”
My skin prickled.
“How?”
“Apparent overdose.”
Convenient.
Then Lily whispered:
“He drove Aunt Celeste.”
Gabriel turned.
“What?”
“Garage.”
Her eyes filled.
“Before Mommy died.”
The garage argument.
Celeste and Elena.
Marcus nearby.
The pieces moved.
Then Dr. Shah entered.
He checked Lily’s IV.
“Her fluid status is improving.”
“Can we get her to eat?”
Gabriel asked.
“Not forcefully.”
Good doctor.
I looked at Lily.
“What food did your mom make when you were sick?”
Her face crumpled.
Wrong question.
I immediately corrected.
“Never mind.”
Then Lily surprised me.
“Stars.”
“What?”
“Toast stars.”
Claire—me—no, Elena used cookie cutters.
I understood.
“Toast cut like stars?”
Nod.
“Can we make them?”
Lily did not answer.
I looked at Gabriel.
“Kitchen?”
“Downstairs.”
“Do you have bread?”
He stared at me.
“I own a penthouse.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
For the first time, one corner of his mouth almost moved.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I stood.
Lily grabbed me.
“No.”
“I’m coming back.”
Her grip tightened.
I realized what I had said.
Adults probably kept telling her that.
Mommy was coming back.
Doctors came back.
Nannies came back.
Maybe some didn’t.
I sat again.
“Actually, want to come with me?”
Gabriel started:
“Claire—”
I looked at him.
“Security?”
He hesitated.
Then:
“Kitchen is secure.”
I wrapped Lily in the duvet.
Gabriel carried her.
She allowed it.
Downstairs, twenty armed men pretended not to stare as New York’s most feared crime boss carried his four-year-old daughter wrapped like a pink burrito into a commercial kitchen.
I found bread.
Butter.
A star-shaped cutter in a baking drawer.
Of course rich people own everything.
I toasted the bread.
Cut one star.
Put it on a plate.
Lily stared.
I ate the first one.
“Terrible.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“Again?”
“Your bread quality is embarrassing.”
Lily’s mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
Then she reached.
Took one corner.
Bit it.
Tiny.
Everyone froze.
I glared at them.
Half the room suddenly looked away.
She chewed.
Swallowed.
Then another bite.
Gabriel’s eyes filled.
He turned toward the refrigerator like it had personally offended him.
Lily ate half a toast star.
After four days.
Half.
I had never seen such a small amount of food change a room so completely.
Then Gabriel’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face hardened.
“Where?”
Pause.
“Send it.”
He ended the call.
“What?”
I asked.
“Police recovered Elena’s phone.”
“From the crash?”
“No.”
He looked at Lily.
Then me.
“From Marcus Hale’s apartment.”
The phone had been missing since the shooting.
And inside it was one unsent recording made seventeen minutes before Elena died.
A recording addressed to Gabriel.
He played only the first five seconds.
Elena’s voice:
“Gabriel, if anything happens to me, Celeste knows about the Harbor Trust, and Victor helped her.”
Gabriel stopped the audio.
The room went silent.
Victor.
His godfather.
The man standing in Lily’s bedroom twenty minutes earlier.
And suddenly the most dangerous person in the penthouse might not have been the sister who escaped.
May you like
It might have been the man Gabriel had just allowed to walk freely through every locked door.
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