Chapter 4 - THE FAMILY HEIRLOOM
The safehouse wasn’t a dusty basement or a remote cabin in the woods. It was a massive, glass-walled penthouse overlooking the Chicago River.
Roman’s men—silent, broad-shouldered enforcers in tailored suits—had escorted us from the underground parking garage straight to the private elevator. Now, they stood guard at the entrances, their eyes scanning the perimeter.
I sat on a velvet sofa in the center of the living room, holding Josie tightly against my chest. She had finally stopped crying, her breathing slowing as she drifted into an exhausted sleep in my arms.
"Drink this."
Roman stood over me, holding out a glass of water. He had discarded his wet overcoat and suit jacket, leaving him in a dark button-down shirt that emphasized the tension in his shoulders.
I took the glass with a shaking hand. "Thank you."
He sat in the armchair opposite me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He watched me for a long moment, his gaze analytical, searching.
"You didn't know," he finally said.
"Know what?"
"That you were a Vale. You honestly had no idea."
I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. "Mr. Vale, I bought my winter coat at Goodwill. I've spent the last seven years skipping meals so Josie could have fresh fruit. If I knew I belonged to a family with a billion-dollar empire, do you think I would have been scrubbing your floors this morning?"
Roman looked down at his hands. "No. I suppose not."
"My mother—Evelyn. She never told me anything. She just said my father left before I was born, and that we didn't have any family."
"She was protecting you," Roman said quietly. "If Silas knew you were alive, he would have killed you. The only reason he let you live today was to send a message to me."
"Why does he want you dead?"
"Because I'm the only thing standing between him and total control of the Commission. My father ran the families. When he died, Silas thought he would take over. But my father left the seat to me."
I looked down at Josie’s sleeping face. Her cheek was pressed against my collarbone.
"I need to change her clothes," I whispered. "She's still damp from the rain."
"There are fresh clothes in the master bedroom," Roman said. "My men brought some things from a nearby boutique."
I carried Josie down the long, modern hallway, laying her gently on the massive king-sized bed. I pulled the wet shoes from her feet and stripped off her damp sweater.
As I pulled her arms out of the sleeves, something fell from her pocket and clattered against the hardwood floor.
I frowned, kneeling down to pick it up.
It was a small, ornate object. Silver, tarnished with age, shaped like a delicate comb used to hold up a woman’s hair. Blue sapphires were embedded in the handle, catching the dim light of the bedroom.
I stared at it, my breath catching in my throat.
It was a family heirloom. But not just any heirloom. I recognized it instantly. Evelyn used to keep it wrapped in velvet at the bottom of her drawer. She told me it was the only thing she had left of her grandmother.
But Evelyn had sold it five years ago to pay for my hospital bills when I had pneumonia. I had gone with her to the pawnshop. I watched the man hand her three hundred dollars for it.
How did Josie have it?
I walked back into the living room, holding the silver comb in my palm.
"Roman," I said, my voice unsteady.
He looked up from his phone. "What is it?"
"Did Silas give Josie anything else besides the drawing? Did you see him hand her anything?"
Roman stood up, his eyes locking onto the object in my hand. "No. Just the paper. Why? What is that?"
"My mother sold this five years ago to a pawnshop on the South Side."
Roman stepped closer. He reached out, taking the comb from my hand. He didn't look at the sapphires. He flipped it over, examining the smooth silver back of the handle.
His face went completely pale.
"She didn't sell this to a pawnshop, Lena," Roman whispered.
"Yes, she did. I was there."
"Then the pawnbroker was working for Silas." Roman looked up at me, his eyes wide with a horrifying realization. "This belongs to my mother. It was part of her wedding set."
I stepped back, feeling the room spin. "That's impossible. Evelyn told me—"
"Evelyn lied." Roman pressed his thumb against a tiny, hidden mechanism near the base of the comb.
With a sharp click, the silver handle slid open, revealing a hollow compartment inside.
Roman pulled out a tiny, tightly rolled piece of parchment. He unrolled it carefully on the glass coffee table.
It wasn't a message. It was a ledger. Columns of dates, names, and massive sums of money.
"This is my father's private ledger," Roman said, his voice barely audible. "The one that went missing the night he died. The one that proves Silas was embezzling from the Commission."
"If Silas had it," I asked, trembling, "why would he give it to Josie? Why give us the evidence that could destroy him?"
Roman stared at the ledger, his mind working violently behind his eyes.
"He didn't give it to Josie to hide it," Roman said slowly. "He gave it to her so it would be found."
Before I could ask what he meant, the heavy double doors of the penthouse swung open.
Patricia, the tall head maid from the estate, walked in. But she wasn't wearing her uniform. She was wearing a sleek leather jacket, and there was a suppressed handgun holstered at her hip.
She wasn't just a maid. She was a guard.
Behind her, two men wheeled Margaret Vale into the room.
Margaret looked exhausted, her silver hair slightly disheveled from the sudden move. But when her eyes found me, a spark of desperate energy lit up her face.
She pointed at me, then frantically tapped her fingers on the armrest of her wheelchair.
Three. Two. One.
I stepped forward to answer, but Patricia stepped between us.
"Mr. Vale," Patricia said, her voice sharp and urgent. "We have a problem. The estate was raided ten minutes after we left with your mother."
"Silas?" Roman asked.
"No." Patricia pulled a folded document from her jacket and handed it to Roman. "The Feds. They had a warrant. They said they received an anonymous tip that the missing ledger connecting you to the docks was in this building."
Roman looked down at the silver comb on the table.
"He framed us," Roman whispered. "Silas gave the ledger to Josie, tipped off the Feds, and waited for us to bring the evidence straight to our own safehouse."
Suddenly, the private elevator at the end of the hall dinged.
Roman drew his weapon instantly. Patricia did the same, stepping in front of Margaret’s wheelchair.
The elevator doors slid open.
A man stepped out, his hands raised in surrender. He was soaked from the rain, his face bruised and bleeding from a fresh cut above his eye.
I gasped, staggering backward until my knees hit the velvet sofa.
"Lena," the man said, his voice breaking.
It was Mark.
Josie's father. The man who had abandoned me seven years ago, leaving without a word the night before I found out I was pregnant.
"Mark?" I breathed. "What are you doing here?"
Mark looked at me, tears mixing with the blood on his face. Then he looked at Roman.
"He told me to come," Mark choked out. "My father told me to come."
May you like
Roman raised his gun, aiming it directly at Mark's chest. "Silas is your father?"
Mark nodded, falling to his knees. "I'm so sorry, Lena. I didn't want to leave you. He forced me." He looked up, his eyes filled with absolute terror. "And he told me if I don't walk out of here with my daughter right now, he's going to blow this entire building into the river."
