Chapter 5 - The Woman Alexander Chose Over Me
For the first time since I returned, Alexander looked afraid.
Not angry.
Not controlled.
Afraid.
Victor knew about Ethan.
Of course Victor knew Ethan existed.
Everyone knew Alexander Russo had a son.
But Rebecca’s message meant something more specific.
He knows about Ethan.
Knows what?
We learned at 10:40 that night.
One of Russo Global’s old trusts had been modified eleven years earlier.
Before Ethan’s birth.
Before my divorce.
Patrick Russo created it.
The trust granted majority voting control over several family shipping companies to Alexander’s first legitimate male child when he turned twenty-one.
Old-fashioned.
Ridiculous.
Worth billions.
Ethan.
Victor had spent decades siphoning money through those companies.
If Ethan’s legal interests were audited, old transactions could surface.
Rebecca knew.
She had discovered the trust after Daniel’s death.
And ten years earlier, removing me from the family had served another purpose.
I had worked briefly in the Russo charitable foundation.
I understood financial records.
I had already started asking about irregular transfers.
Victor and Rebecca did not merely need me discredited.
They needed Ethan raised inside an environment where nobody would question the financial structure surrounding his inheritance.
Alexander’s face hardened when the attorneys explained it.
“I controlled his accounts.”
“Nominally,” the attorney said. “Victor’s office administered most legacy entities.”
Alexander looked ready to destroy the table.
I almost laughed.
“You trusted him.”
His eyes met mine.
“You’re right.”
He said it immediately now.
No fight.
No defense.
Strange what ten years could teach in forty-eight hours.
Security around Ethan doubled.
I hated it.
Armed men outside bedroom doors are not normal.
But neither was Victor.
Then Rebecca called me.
Not Alexander.
Me.
Unknown number.
I answered alone.
“Grace?”
I recorded automatically.
“Where are you?”
She laughed bitterly.
“You sound like him.”
“No.”
I looked out the library window.
“I ask questions before deciding someone is guilty.”
Silence.
That landed.
“Victor has people everywhere.”
“Then surrender.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Alexander will never forgive me.”
“This may shock you, Rebecca, but Alexander’s forgiveness is not the highest legal authority in Illinois.”
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then began crying.
“I didn’t mean for any of this.”
“You meant enough.”
“I was twenty-two.”
“You were thirty when you framed me.”
Silence.
There.
No youth excuse.
“Why?” I asked.
Her voice changed.
“You want the truth?”
“That would be new.”
“I hated you.”
Simple.
Honest.
Finally.
“Why?”
“Because you walked into that house and everyone loved you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Rebecca.”
“Camilla called you daughter.”
“She called you family too.”
“Not the same.”
“Alexander never loved you.”
Another silence.
I had wondered.
Of course.
There it was.
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“That was the worst part.”
“Then why destroy me?”
“Because he loved you.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
Ten years.
My son.
My life.
Because a woman could not tolerate watching a man love someone else.
But Rebecca continued.
“And because you found the foundation transfers.”
That mattered.
“If you had only been his wife, I might have survived it.”
“Might?”
“You made him want different things.”
“What things?”
“A legitimate life.”
I almost laughed.
Alexander once told me after Ethan was born that he wanted out of the criminal side.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I had believed him.
Rebecca noticed too.
“Victor was terrified,” she said. “If Alexander cleaned up the companies, audits would happen.”
“And you would lose Victor’s payments.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
“So you framed me.”
“Victor created most of it.”
“You participated.”
“Yes.”
“Did Alexander’s mother know?”
“No.”
I believed that.
Camilla’s wrongdoing came later.
Letters.
Lies to Ethan.
Not the original frame.
“Did you try to kill yourself in the car?”
Rebecca’s breathing changed.
“No.”
“Did anyone cut the brakes?”
“No.”
“Did I pay Caleb Ross?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
The word was quiet.
But my recorder caught it.
Every syllable.
“Did Victor fabricate the phone records?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Daniel suspected Victor before he died?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Victor where your father would meet Alexander?”
Rebecca sobbed.
“Yes.”
“Did you know Victor planned an ambush?”
“No!”
The answer exploded.
“I swear to God, no.”
I remained silent.
“He told me he would scare Dad,” she continued. “He said he’d make him stop. I thought—”
“You thought a criminal stealing millions would politely frighten him.”
“I was stupid.”
“You were greedy.”
“Yes.”
That surprised me.
No defense.
“Yes.”
Silence stretched.
Then I asked, “Why did you keep the warehouse video?”
“Insurance.”
“Against Victor?”
“And Patrick.”
“Alexander’s father?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does Patrick have to do with Daniel’s death?”
Rebecca became quiet.
“Everything.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Everything.
We knew Patrick tolerated Victor’s theft.
Had he known about the ambush?
Approved it?
Alexander’s father had died eight years ago.
No punishment possible.
Only truth.
Rebecca texted an address.
An abandoned theater on the South Side.
Come alone if you want the video.
Of course.
I did not go alone.
I also did not tell Alexander.
That decision would later become an argument.
A deserved one.
I called federal investigator Nora Price, the woman leading Victor’s case.
She arranged surveillance.
No Russo men.
No Alexander.
My choice.
I went inside wearing a wire.
Rebecca waited onstage beneath one emergency light.
She looked terrible.
No red dress.
No diamonds.
Jeans.
Coat.
Bruise along her cheek.
For one second, I saw the girl Daniel Hale might once have tried to protect.
Then I remembered Ethan’s empty nursery.
“Grace.”
“Rebecca.”
She held a small drive.
“The video.”
“Put it down.”
She did.
“Victor hit you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He knows I talked.”
“How?”
“Because Alexander’s organization leaks.”
That was probably true.
“Where is Victor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rebecca.”
“I don’t.”
She looked exhausted.
“He has money. Safe houses. Men Alexander thinks are loyal.”
“That sounds familiar.”
She flinched.
Good.
“Tell me about Patrick.”
Rebecca sat on the edge of the stage.
“Victor never could have arranged the warehouse attack without Patrick knowing.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel’s security detail reported to Patrick.”
My stomach tightened.
“Patrick approved it?”
“Yes.”
“Why kill Daniel?”
“Because Daniel was going to tell Alexander everything.”
“Alexander was twenty-five.”
“Old enough.”
She looked toward the dark theater seats.
“Daniel believed Alexander could take over and force Victor out.”
“And Patrick?”
“Patrick believed Alexander was becoming soft.”
Because of me?
No.
This was before me.
Because Alexander was not his father.
Again.
Rebecca continued.
“Patrick ordered Victor to make Daniel disappear.”
“Your father.”
She nodded.
“Did you know then?”
“No.”
“When did you learn?”
“After.”
“From the video?”
“Yes.”
“What does it show?”
“Patrick entering the warehouse before the ambush.”
My heart sank.
“Daniel talked to him.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Patrick told him loyalty meant silence.”
“And Daniel?”
“Told Patrick that protecting a thief wasn’t loyalty.”
Despite everything, I smiled faintly.
I would have liked Daniel.
Rebecca cried.
“Then Patrick left.”
“And Victor’s men came.”
“Yes.”
“You watched this fifteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And said nothing.”
“My father was dead. Patrick was Alexander’s father. Victor told me if I spoke, he would expose the money I had taken.”
“So you chose yourself.”
“Yes.”
Again.
No excuse.
Then she looked at me.
“I know you hate me.”
“I do.”
Her face crumpled.
I surprised myself with how calmly I said it.
“I hate what you did.”
Not her existence.
What she did.
“You took ten years with my son.”
“I know.”
“You let Ethan believe I abandoned him.”
“I know.”
“You stood in that house every Christmas while my letters were hidden upstairs.”
Tears rolled down her face.
“I know.”
“Nothing you say makes that smaller.”
“I know.”
“Then why call me?”
She looked at the drive.
“Because Victor is going to kill Ethan.”
Every muscle in my body froze.
“What?”
“He doesn’t need the trust activated.”
“What does that mean?”
“If Ethan dies before twenty-one without direct descendants, the voting interest returns to Alexander.”
“That helps Alexander.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“It gives Alexander full control.”
“Which means Victor loses access.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless Alexander dies too.”
My blood turned cold.
Victor’s plan.
Ethan.
Then Alexander.
Remove both.
The old legacy entities would enter a succession dispute Victor could manipulate through trustees he controlled.
I reached for my phone.
Rebecca whispered, “Too late.”
A sound came from above us.
Glass broke.
Nora shouted through my earpiece.
MOVE!
I hit the floor.
Gunfire shattered the stage light.
Darkness.
Rebecca screamed.
Agents entered.
More shots.
I crawled toward the wing.
Rebecca grabbed my arm.
“Grace!”
A man rushed from backstage.
Rebecca pushed me down.
A shot cracked.
She jerked.
Fell.
“Rebecca!”
Blood spread across her shoulder.
Not fatal.
I hoped.
The attacker was tackled by federal agents.
Victor was not there.
Of course.
As medics reached Rebecca, she gripped my wrist.
“Ethan.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her eyes were wild.
“The school.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“Victor has someone at Ethan’s school.”
Christmas break.
No school.
Then I understood.
Hockey.
Ethan had morning practice at a private rink.
Tomorrow.
I called Alexander.
He answered immediately.
“Grace, where the hell are you?”
“Cancel Ethan’s hockey practice.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Victor has someone there.”
“Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Alexander!”
He stopped.
“Cancel it.”
“It was canceled an hour ago.”
My knees weakened.
“Why?”
“Ethan asked to stay with you tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes.
One decision.
One little boy wanting time with his mother.
It might have saved his life.
Alexander’s voice came through.
“Grace, where are you?”
I looked at Rebecca on the floor.
At federal agents.
At Daniel’s video drive.
“At the place where the woman you chose over me just saved my life.”
Silence.
May you like
Then Alexander whispered:
“What?”
