Chapter 4 - The Woman in the Photograph
The next morning, Harper found a photograph.
It was lying on Vincent’s desk.
A young woman.
Twenty years old, perhaps.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
The resemblance to Vincent was unmistakable.
Harper picked it up.
The door opened.
Vincent stopped when he saw the photograph in her hands.
“You were told not to enter my office.”
“I know.”
His expression hardened.
“Put it down.”
Harper did.
“Who is she?”
“My sister.”
“Where is she?”
“Dead.”
The answer landed like a stone.
Harper looked at the photo again.
“She looks happy.”
“She was.”
“What happened?”
Vincent turned away.
“Fifteen years ago, she was killed because of me.”
Harper felt her chest tighten.
“How?”
“My father was involved with organized crime. When he died, I inherited his enemies.”
“And your sister?”
“She became leverage.”
Harper was silent.
Vincent continued.
“I was nineteen. I thought I could protect her. I was wrong.”
He looked at the photograph.
“They took her from a parking garage.”
“Vincent…”
“I found her three hours later.”
His voice remained controlled.
But his hand tightened around the edge of the desk.
“She was alive when I arrived.”
Harper swallowed.
“What did you do?”
“I killed the men responsible.”
She stared at him.
“Was that the beginning?”
“The beginning of what?”
“Your reputation.”
Vincent nodded.
“Yes.”
Harper realized then that the rumors about Vincent Romano had probably never captured the whole truth.
Not that it excused violence.
But it explained the man who checked windows twice before sleeping.
The man who watched every exit.
The man who never turned his back on a door.
Her phone rang.
The school.
Harper answered.
The secretary informed her Lily had been removed from the school’s transportation list.
“What?”
“Someone called claiming to be her legal guardian.”
Harper’s face went pale.
Richard.
She hung up and called him.
He answered on the first ring.
“You can’t hide her forever.”
Harper’s hand shook.
“You’re not getting Lily.”
“You think your fake husband changes anything?”
The call ended.
Vincent had heard enough.
“Richard knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That the marriage is fake.”
Harper stared.
“How?”
“Someone told him.”
His expression changed.
He walked to the security monitor.
“Show me the school.”
The screen displayed a parking lot.
A black sedan sat across the street.
Vincent leaned forward.
“Zoom.”
Security did.
A man stepped from the vehicle.
Harper recognized him.
“That's Richard’s attorney.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“What?”
“His attorney is not the problem.”
The screen shifted.
A second man appeared.
Vincent stared at him for several seconds.
“Dario.”
Harper felt fear move through her.
“What does he want?”
Vincent answered without looking at her.
“Something from me.”
“What?”
“An account ledger.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone inside my organization has been selling information.”
Harper looked at him.
“Who?”
“I don't know yet.”
For the first time, Vincent looked genuinely worried.
“Trust is everything in my world.”
“And you don't trust anyone.”
“Correct.”
“Then how are you going to find the traitor?”
Vincent looked at her.
“You.”
Harper blinked.
“Me?”
“You are invisible to them.”
“That sounds insulting.”
“It is strategic.”
He explained that his enemies knew everyone close to him.
Managers.
Drivers.
Bodyguards.
Lawyers.
Friends.
A new wife from a diner, however, appeared irrelevant.
Harper would attend a charity gala with him.
She would listen.
Observe.
And remember.
“No.”
Vincent frowned.
“No?”
“I’m not spying on your friends.”
“They are not my friends.”
“Your criminals, then.”
He almost smiled.
“Fair.”
Harper shook her head.
“I married you to save Lily, not to become a detective.”
“I know.”
“Then stop asking me to do dangerous things.”
Vincent’s expression softened.
“I am sorry.”
Harper was stunned.
“Did you just apologize?”
“Yes.”
“That may be the first normal thing you’ve done.”
Vincent walked toward her.
“You don't have to do this.”
Harper hesitated.
Then she looked at the photograph of his sister.
“What happens if you don't find the traitor?”
“People die.”
“Who?”
“People I cannot protect.”
Harper remembered Lily.
She remembered Vincent saying the same thing the night before.
Her own fear.
Her sister’s fear.
The cost of failure.
“Fine.”
Vincent nodded.
“But you stay beside me the entire night.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if they recognize you as important to me, they will become more dangerous.”
Harper swallowed.
“Wait.”
Vincent paused.
“Important?”
He met her eyes.
“You heard the sentence.”
He walked away.
Harper stood frozen.
Then Mrs. Delgado appeared with a dress bag.
“Mr. Romano requested this for tonight.”
Harper opened the bag.
Inside was a deep blue gown.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Completely impractical.
She frowned.
“I don’t know how to wear something like this.”
Mrs. Delgado smiled.
“Neither did Mr. Romano when he first became rich.”
Harper looked at her.
“What happened?”
“He learned.”
“And did he become happy?”
Mrs. Delgado’s smile faded.
“No.”
May you like
Harper looked at the gown.
For some reason, she suddenly wanted to be the first person who taught him how.
