Chapter 49
I pressed a towel to Catherine's forehead while Dominic called 911, his voice steady and clinical as he described her injuries. My hands weren't shaking. That should have worried me.
"No hospitals." Catherine grabbed my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "They'll be watching. Marcus will know."
"You need stitches."
"I need you to listen." She pushed herself up against my couch, wincing. "They grabbed James outside his dorm. Three men, professional. One of them showed me a photo of you and Dominic at that restaurant in Cambridge. Said if you claim the inheritance tomorrow, James disappears. Permanently."
The towel in my hand was turning red. I focused on that instead of the way my chest was constricting.
"How did you get away?" Dominic crouched beside us, his phone still in his hand.
"I didn't. They let me go." Catherine's laugh was bitter. "I'm the messenger. That's all I am to them."
"That tracks." The words came out flat. Marcus had always been efficient with his cruelty.
Dominic's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his mouth went flat. "The board meeting has been moved up. Six AM instead of nine."
"Of course it has." I stood, pacing to the window. My reflection stared back at me, and I looked exactly like what I was—a girl from Southie who'd stumbled into a game she didn't understand. "They're compressing the timeline. Less time to think, less time to plan."
"We call the police." Dominic was already dialing.
"And tell them what?" I turned. "That the son of one of Boston's most powerful families kidnapped my brother? With what proof? Catherine's word against Marcus Ashford's reputation?"
"There are three men who assaulted her."
"Who she cannot identify because it was dark and they wore masks." Catherine's voice was steady despite the blood still seeping through the towel. "I already thought this through, Dominic. They're not amateurs."
My phone buzzed. The unknown number again.
They have James at the warehouse on Northern Ave. Pier 6. Four guards. You have until 6 AM.
I showed Dominic the screen. His expression didn't change, but the balance tipped in his posture.
"It's a trap," he said.
"No, yeah. Obviously." I was already grabbing my jacket. "But it's also where my brother is, so."
"Sloane." He caught my arm. "Think about this."
"I am thinking. I'm thinking Marcus has James and I have—" I checked my watch. "—seven hours to get him back before I have to decide whether to walk into that board meeting or let my brother die."
"That is not the choice."
"Isn't it?" I pulled away. "Because from where I'm standing, that's exactly what Marcus is offering. The inheritance or James. Pick one."
Catherine made a sound, half laugh, half sob. "He really is Richard's son."
The words hit like a slap. I'd been so focused on what Richard had left me that I'd forgotten what he'd left Marcus—a lifetime of watching his father choose business over family, strategy over love. Marcus had learned from the best.
"We need help." Dominic was texting someone. "I know people who can—"
"Who can what? Storm a warehouse in the next six hours without getting James killed?" I shook my head. "Marcus is counting on us doing something predictable. Calling the cops, hiring security, going in loud."
"And what are you suggesting?"
I looked at Catherine, then at Dominic, then at my phone where the unknown number's message still glowed. Someone was feeding me information. Someone who knew Marcus's plans, who had access to surveillance photos, who knew where James was being held.
Someone inside the Ashford organization.
"I'm suggesting we figure out who's texting me," I said. "Because they're the only person who's actually helping."
Dominic made Catherine lie down in my bedroom while he cleaned her wounds with supplies from my first aid kit. I sat at my kitchen table, staring at my phone, trying to piece together the pattern.
The texts had started three days ago. First warning me about Patricia. Then sending proof of her alliance with Marcus. Now giving me James's location.
"They want you to claim the inheritance." Dominic emerged from the bedroom, rolling down his sleeves. "Whoever is texting you, that is their goal."
"Yeah, I got that part." I pulled up the message history. "What I don't get is why. Who benefits from me taking over Ashford Industries?"
"Anyone who wants Marcus to lose."
"That's a long list."
"Narrow it down." He sat across from me. "Who has access to Marcus's surveillance operation? Who knew about Patricia's visit before it happened? Who knows where James is being held?"
I traced the edge of my phone case, thinking. "Someone close to Marcus. Someone he trusts."
"Or someone he underestimates."
The way Dominic said it made me look up. His expression was carefully neutral, which meant he was hiding something.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"I am telling you everything relevant."
"That's not relevant." I mimicked his deflection, and his mouth twitched. "Come on. You know something."
He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the table. Then: "Marcus has an assistant. Vivian Chen. She has been with him for eight years. Access to everything."
"And?"
"And she was my wife's best friend."
The air in the room changed. Dominic never talked about his wife. Never. I'd learned more about her from Google than from him.
"Was?" I kept my voice careful.
"Caroline died three years ago." He wasn't looking at me. "Car accident. Vivian was supposed to be in the car with her, but she canceled at the last minute. Work emergency."
"You think Vivian blames herself."
"I think Vivian has been working for Marcus ever since, and I think she hates him." Dominic finally met my eyes. "Caroline was investigating something before she died. Something about Ashford Industries. She never told me what, but she was scared. And then she was dead, and Marcus offered Vivian a job two weeks later."
My stomach dropped. "You think Marcus killed your wife."
"I think my wife died very conveniently for my father's business interests." His voice was flat. "And I think Vivian has been waiting for a chance to destroy him ever since."
I processed this. Dominic's wife had been investigating Ashford Industries. She'd died. Marcus had immediately hired her best friend. And now that best friend was feeding me information to help me take down Marcus.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"Because I was not certain." He stood, pacing to the window. "And because if I am wrong, if Vivian is loyal to Marcus, then I have just exposed our only advantage."
"But you're telling me now."
"Because your brother is running out of time, and we need allies." He turned. "Vivian can get us into that warehouse. She can tell us how many guards, what weapons, what Marcus's contingency plans are."
"And if she's the one texting me, she already wants to help."
"If she is the one texting you." Dominic's emphasis on 'if' was deliberate. "We need to be certain."
I pulled up the unknown number and typed: Who are you?
The response came immediately: Someone who wants Richard's real heir to win.
I showed Dominic. He read it twice, his expression unreadable.
"That could be anyone," he said.
"Or it could be someone who knew Richard well enough to know I'm his daughter." I typed again: Why help me?
Because Marcus killed someone I loved. And because you're the only one brave enough to stop him.
Dominic's hand clenched on the back of my chair. I didn't need to ask if he recognized the phrasing. The pain in his face was answer enough.
"It's Vivian," I said quietly.
"Yes."
"And she knows about us. About the photos."
"She would have access to Marcus's surveillance files." His voice was carefully controlled. "She would know everything."
I typed: Can you get James out?
Not without Marcus knowing. But I can get you in. Pier 6, service entrance, code is 4729. Two guards outside, two inside. They change shifts at 5 AM. You'll have a ten-minute window.
"That's not enough time," Dominic said.
"It's what we have." I was already moving, grabbing my keys, checking my jacket pockets. "So."
"So we are walking into a trap with a ten-minute window and the word of someone we have never met."
"No, yeah. That's the plan."
He caught my arm again, and this time he didn't let go. "Sloane. Stop."
"I can't stop. James is—"
"I know where James is. I know what Marcus is doing. I know all of it." His grip tightened. "But if you die trying to save him, Marcus wins anyway. If you are not at that board meeting, the inheritance defaults to him. James loses his sister and Marcus gets everything."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"I suggest you let me go."
The words hung between us. I stared at him, trying to understand what he was offering.
"You can't go instead of me. Marcus's people know what I look like."
"I can create a distraction." He released my arm. "I can give you more than ten minutes."
"By doing what?"
"By walking into the board meeting at six AM and telling Marcus I know where you are." His expression was calm, decided. "By offering to bring you in myself, in exchange for James's release."
"He won't believe you."
"He will believe I am desperate enough to betray you to save my own position." Dominic's smile was bitter. "It is what he would do."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him it was too dangerous, too risky, that I couldn't let him sacrifice himself for my brother. But the truth was simpler and uglier: it might work.
"And then what?" I asked. "After you've convinced Marcus you're on his side?"
"Then you have time to get James out while Marcus is focused on me." He pulled out his phone. "And I have time to record his confession."
"His confession to what?"
"To everything." Dominic's voice was soft, dangerous. "To surveilling you. To kidnapping James. To whatever he did to Caroline."
The plan was insane. It relied on Marcus being arrogant enough to gloat, on Dominic being convincing enough to sell the betrayal, on me being fast enough to extract James before everything fell apart.
It might actually work.
"Okay," I said. "But I'm texting Vivian. If this goes wrong, she needs to know."
I typed: Dominic is going to the board meeting as a distraction. I'm getting James out at 5 AM. If you don't hear from me by 6, call the police and send them everything.
The response was immediate: Understood. There's a boat at Pier 6, slip 12. Keys under the seat. Get James and run.
"She's giving us an exit strategy," I showed Dominic.
"She is giving you an exit strategy." He was already heading for the door. "I will be somewhat occupied."
"Dominic."
He stopped, his hand on the doorknob.
"If Marcus figures out what you're doing—"
"Then you make sure James is safe and you claim that inheritance." He didn't turn around. "And you destroy my brother for both of us."
The door closed behind him before I could respond.
Catherine was awake when I checked on her, her eyes tracking me as I moved around the room gathering supplies. Dark clothes. My old switchblade from Southie. The pepper spray I'd bought after the first threatening letter.
"You're going after him," she said.
"Yeah."
"Alone."
"Dominic's handling Marcus." I shoved the pepper spray in my pocket. "I'm handling the extraction."
"You mean the part where you break into a warehouse guarded by armed men and somehow escape with your brother."
"That's the one."
Catherine sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her ribs. "I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not. You can barely stand."
"I'm a nurse. If James is hurt—"
"If James is hurt, I'll get him to a hospital." I crouched beside the bed. "But I need you here. If something goes wrong, if I don't make it back, you're the only one who knows the whole story. You're the only one who can tell the police what Marcus did."
"Sloane—"
"Please." The word came out rougher than I intended. "I need to know someone's here. Someone who'll make sure Marcus doesn't just walk away from this."
She studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. "There's a gun in my purse. Take it."
"I don't know how to shoot."
"Point and pull the trigger. It's not complicated." She gestured to her bag on the floor. "And Sloane? Don't hesitate. These men won't."
The gun was heavier than I expected, cold and solid in my palm. I checked the safety like I'd seen in movies, then tucked it into my waistband. The weight of it against my spine was terrifying and reassuring in equal measure.
My phone buzzed. Vivian again: Marcus just left his apartment. He's heading to the office early. Dominic's plan is working.
I texted back: How do you know Dominic's plan?
Because he just called me. We've been working together for six months.
The words blurred on the screen. I read them again, trying to make sense of what she was saying.
Six months. The same amount of time Dominic and I had been together. The same amount of time Marcus had been surveilling us.
I called Dominic. He answered on the first ring.
"You've been working with Vivian this whole time," I said.
Silence.
"Dominic."
"Yes." His voice was quiet. "Since the day my father told me about you."
"You've been planning this. All of it."
"I have been planning to destroy Marcus, yes. And then you appeared, and suddenly there was a way to do it that did not require me to burn down my father's legacy." He paused. "I should have told you."
"No, yeah. You really should have." I was pacing now, my free hand clenched. "What else haven't you told me?"
"Nothing that matters."
"That's not relevant." I threw his words back at him. "Tell me anyway."
Another pause, longer this time. Then: "Vivian has evidence. Documents, recordings, emails. Everything Marcus has done for the past eight years. Everything my father did before that."
"And you were going to tell me this when?"
"When I was certain you would not use it to walk away." His honesty was brutal. "You have spent twenty-three days looking for a reason to refuse the inheritance. I could not risk giving you one."
He was right. I hated that he was right.
"After this is over," I said, "we're going to have a very long conversation about trust."
"I look forward to it."
I hung up and looked at Catherine. She was watching me with something like sympathy.
"Men are idiots," she said.
"No, yeah. That tracks."
My phone buzzed again. Not Vivian this time. A new number.
Change of plans. James isn't at Pier 6. Marcus moved him twenty minutes ago. If you want your brother alive, come to the board meeting. Alone. No Dominic. No police. Just you.
The message was from Marcus's personal number.
I stared at the screen, my mind racing. Vivian had said James was at Pier 6. Marcus was saying he'd been moved. One of them was lying.
Or they both were.
I called Vivian. No answer.
I called Dominic. Straight to voicemail.
My hands were shaking now, the gun pressing cold against my spine, Catherine's blood still on my shirt, and somewhere in this city my brother was either in a warehouse or a boardroom or already dead, and I had exactly four hours to figure out which.
The apartment door crashed open for the third time that night, and I spun, reaching for the gun, but it wasn't Marcus's men.
It was Patricia, her perfect hair disheveled, her designer coat torn, and her eyes wild with something that looked almost like fear.
"Don't go to the board meeting," she gasped. "Marcus isn't bluffing. He'll kill James. He'll kill all of us. I have proof—"
She collapsed, and I saw the blood spreading across her back, the knife still lodged between her shoulder blades, and behind her in the doorway stood Marcus himself, his expression calm and his hands clean and his voice soft as a prayer when he said, "Hello, sister. Shall we talk about your inheritance?"