Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Die Twice
For several seconds, the photograph on Henry Vale's telephone held all three of us in silence.
Gabriel stood beside the desk, staring at the image.
I was in the photograph.
My swollen stomach was clearly visible beneath my coat.
His hand hovered near my elbow, although he hadn't actually touched me.
The angle suggested someone had been watching us from across the street.
Someone close enough to know exactly which door we entered.
Henry reached for the telephone.
Gabriel caught his wrist.
"Don't reply."
"I wasn't going to."
"Then turn it off."
Henry obeyed.
I looked toward the window.
The curtains were partly open.
Beyond them, the dark street reflected a hundred scattered lights.
Any one of those lights could hide a watcher.
"How did he find us?"
Gabriel was already examining the photograph.
"Taken from the second floor of the building opposite."
Henry frowned.
"How can you tell?"
"The angle. The reflection from the pharmacy window. Whoever took it was above street level."
"Can we leave through the back?" I asked.
Henry nodded.
"There's a service staircase."
Gabriel looked at him.
"Does anyone else have access?"
"Cleaning staff. Building maintenance. The downstairs tenant."
"Then it's compromised."
I stared at him.
"What do we do?"
He took a breath.
"We stop reacting."
I almost laughed.
"Someone just sent us a photograph of your unborn daughter, Gabriel."
"I know."
"And you're telling me to stop reacting?"
"I'm telling you that running blindly is exactly what Daniel expects."
Henry was watching him carefully.
"Your father used to say the same thing."
Gabriel's face hardened.
"My father also kept his murderous brother alive and forgot to tell me."
Henry had no answer.
An ugly silence settled over the room.
Then I felt a sharp tug beneath my ribs.
I pressed a hand against my side.
Gabriel noticed immediately.
"Clara?"
"It's nothing."
"You're pale."
"I'm exhausted."
He crouched beside my chair but kept his hands to himself.
"Tell me what you need."
I looked at him.
For one moment, I remembered the old Gabriel.
The man who used to bring me peppermint tea after twelve-hour shifts.
The man who learned to braid my hair from online videos because he wanted to help me prepare for work when I was tired.
The man who whispered that he had never known what home felt like until I fell asleep against his chest.
Then I remembered the gun.
The accusation.
The look in his eyes when he walked into my apartment.
"I need you to tell me the truth," I said.
He nodded.
"About what?"
"How many people know I'm pregnant?"
"Daniel knows."
"Marco saw me."
"Yes."
"Your uncle knows."
"Apparently."
"And now Henry."
Henry lifted his hand slightly.
"I assure you, my loyalty is to the law and to the people your father endangered."
Gabriel looked toward the window again.
"What else?"
I swallowed.
"If your uncle has been alive for eleven years, why would he announce himself now?"
Henry answered.
"Because the baby changes his plans."
"But he could have killed us quietly."
Gabriel went still.
I continued.
"Instead he sends a photograph and threatens us. That means he wants something."
Henry considered that.
"Control."
"Of what?"
"The trust, certainly. Perhaps the legitimate companies."
Gabriel shook his head.
"He already has Daniel inside my organization. They could have stolen money for years."
"Which they did," Henry replied.
"But money isn't enough anymore."
I studied the ledger.
There was a fourth column I hadn't understood before.
Three dates.
Three payment references.
And a short handwritten instruction.
RELEASE UPON VERIFICATION.
"What does verification mean?"
Henry leaned forward.
His glasses slid down his nose.
"Where?"
I pointed.
He studied the page.
Then he looked at Gabriel.
"Did Victor ever tell you about the family archive?"
Gabriel frowned.
"The records at the lake house?"
"No. The sealed archive."
"I don't know what that is."
Henry sat back.
"Victor separated some original documents from the rest of his estate. Evidence of historical ownership, private agreements, illegal transactions, and perhaps the people who helped Michael."
"Where?"
"That's what everyone wanted to know."
"Everyone?"
Henry nodded.
"Michael believed those records proved he was the rightful controlling partner in the original enterprise. Your father believed they could destroy the entire criminal operation if released."
I felt an unpleasant realization forming.
"The money wasn't the goal."
Gabriel looked at me.
"What?"
"The warehouse explosion. The stolen records. The money transferred through my account."
I turned toward Henry.
"What if the attack was designed to make Gabriel believe someone had stolen information that was never actually there?"
Henry nodded slowly.
"A diversion."
"To make him investigate the wrong betrayal while Daniel searched somewhere else."
Gabriel stared at the floor.
Then he spoke.
"My father left me a key."
Henry straightened.
"What key?"
"An old brass key in a wooden box. He told me never to lose it."
"Where is it?"
Gabriel looked up.
"At the penthouse."
Henry swore quietly.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Henry asked, "Who has access to your private study?"
"Me. My housekeeper. Daniel, occasionally."
I closed my eyes.
"He's probably already taken it."
Gabriel shook his head.
"No. It's inside a compartment only my father and I knew existed."
"Are you certain?"
He met my eyes.
"Nothing feels certain anymore."
Before I could respond, my phone vibrated.
Evelyn's name appeared.
I nearly dropped it.
"Evelyn?"
Her voice came through weakly.
"Clara?"
"Where are you?"
"Listen to me."
I turned away from the others.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm alive."
"Who was at the clinic?"
"A man asking questions."
"Was it Daniel?"
"No. I don't think so."
Her breathing sounded labored.
"Clara, there's something you need to know about the night you escaped."
I gripped the phone.
"What?"
"I didn't find you by accident."
The room seemed to grow distant.
"What do you mean?"
"Someone sent me to you."
"Who?"
Evelyn began coughing.
I heard movement on her end of the line.
Then she whispered, "Victor Russo."
I froze.
"Gabriel's father?"
"Yes."
"That's impossible. He died three years ago."
"Not directly. He left instructions. An arrangement. I was told that if a certain symbol appeared, I had to protect the woman connected to it."
I stared at the black crown drawn on my paper.
"The crown?"
"Yes."
"Who contacted you?"
"I never knew his real name."
"Describe him."
There was a pause.
"Older. Silver hair. A damaged left hand."
Gabriel was watching me now.
I turned toward him.
His face changed at once.
"What?"
I covered the phone.
"Does your father's former driver have an injured left hand?"
Gabriel looked stunned.
"Samuel Price."
Henry's expression sharpened.
"He worked for Victor for nearly thirty years."
"Where is he?" I asked.
Gabriel swallowed.
"He disappeared after the funeral."
Evelyn spoke again.
"Clara, I found something in your medical file."
"What?"
"The first ultrasound from the night you were brought to me."
My throat tightened.
"Is something wrong with the baby?"
"No. Her heart was strong even then."
"Then what?"
Evelyn inhaled shakily.
"The date doesn't match the records Daniel's men gave me."
I looked at Gabriel.
"What does that mean?"
"Someone falsified your gestational age."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
She lowered her voice.
"But Clara, the person who ordered that alteration knew exactly when you conceived."
A cold sensation crawled along my spine.
"Gabriel knows the baby is his."
"That isn't the problem."
"What is?"
"I think someone has been trying to make it appear that your baby belongs to another man."
Connor Bell.
The accusation in my apartment.
The fabricated affair.
The staged vehicle footage.
Everything had been prepared before Gabriel ever found me.
Evelyn continued.
"There's a copy of the original ultrasound in my records. I'm hiding it somewhere safe."
"Where?"
"Not over the phone."
A muffled noise interrupted her.
Then she said urgently, "I have to go."
"Evelyn—"
"Whatever happens, don't let Daniel obtain your daughter's birth certificate."
The line disconnected.
I stared at the screen.
Gabriel approached.
"What happened?"
I told him.
Every word.
By the time I finished, his expression was unreadable.
Henry opened another folder from the cabinet.
"There's a reason someone might want to manipulate paternity documents," he said.
Gabriel turned sharply.
"Explain."
"Under the emergency trust provision, a child's recognized parentage matters. If Daniel could manufacture a legal dispute, he might delay the child's rights long enough for Michael to seize the companies."
I put my hand over my belly.
"So they need everyone to believe Gabriel isn't her father."
"Or prevent the child from being legally recognized at all," Henry replied.
Gabriel looked sick.
"But why send men to hurt Clara?"
Henry closed the folder.
"Because forged paperwork can be challenged. A dead mother and child cannot."
I could not listen anymore.
I stood so quickly that pain shot beneath my ribs.
My knees buckled.
Gabriel caught the back of my chair but did not touch me.
"Clara."
"I'm okay."
"You're not."
"I need air."
Henry moved toward the window.
Gabriel shook his head.
"Don't open it."
I pressed my hands against the desk.
For a moment, all I could see was the concrete room where they held me.
The masked man.
The knife.
The blood.
I heard Daniel's voice again.
"Gabriel will never forgive you."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Clara, look at me."
Gabriel's voice reached through the memory.
"You're in Henry's office."
I struggled to breathe.
"Nobody is touching you."
My fingers trembled.
"You're not in that room anymore."
I opened my eyes.
Gabriel stood several feet away.
His hands were visible.
His gun was holstered.
He made no attempt to approach.
I focused on the sound of the rain.
My breathing slowly steadied.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Don't apologize."
"I hate this."
"I know."
"I used to be good in emergencies."
"You still are."
I looked at him.
"I can't even hear a door close without feeling like I'm going to die."
Gabriel's eyes filled with grief.
"They did that to you."
I looked away.
"And you believed them."
He lowered his head.
"Yes."
There was no defense in his answer.
No excuse.
Somehow, that hurt more.
Henry cleared his throat gently.
"There's a retired obstetrician I trust. Dr. Miriam Cole. She lives nearby and occasionally sees patients privately."
I hesitated.
"Does Daniel know her?"
"No."
"Does she owe your family anything?"
"Absolutely not. She dislikes the Russos almost as much as I do."
Gabriel gave a humorless laugh.
"That's reassuring."
Henry reached for a separate telephone.
"I'll ask whether she can examine Clara."
Twenty minutes later, we left through the rear staircase.
This time, Henry came with us.
Gabriel insisted we abandon the sedan.
Instead, Henry led us to a narrow garage containing an aging blue station wagon.
I looked at it.
"Does it run?"
Henry appeared offended.
"Miss Hayes, this car has survived two marriages, four mayors, and seventeen Chicago winters."
Gabriel opened the rear passenger door.
"That doesn't answer her question."
"It runs better than most people I know."
For the first time all evening, I smiled.
It was small.
Almost involuntary.
But Gabriel noticed.
He did not comment.
We drove through quiet streets while Henry followed a carefully chosen route.
Dr. Cole lived in a two-story house with cream siding and a garden full of winter-bare rosebushes.
She was in her sixties, with short dark hair and a voice that made it impossible to argue.
She examined me in a clean downstairs treatment room.
Gabriel waited outside.
I insisted on that.
Dr. Cole checked my blood pressure, the baby's heartbeat, and the scar.
She asked direct questions without making me describe more than I could bear.
When she finished, she sat beside me.
"Your daughter sounds strong."
I began crying.
Not because anything was wrong.
Because for months, those had been the only words I needed to hear.
The doctor handed me tissues.
"Your blood pressure is mildly elevated. Your old wound is under tension from the pregnancy, but I don't see obvious signs of a new rupture. You'll need continued monitoring."
"Am I going to lose her?"
She looked directly into my eyes.
"Nothing in this examination suggests that. But I cannot promise what will happen without follow-up care, and stress isn't helping either of you."
I nodded.
"How much longer?"
"Until delivery?"
"Yes."
"Based on your examination and the dating information we have, approximately six weeks, although babies don't always follow schedules."
I touched my stomach.
Six weeks.
Forty-two days.
I could survive forty-two more days.
I had already survived eight months.
When I emerged, Gabriel stood immediately.
"Is she okay?"
Dr. Cole gave him a cool look.
"Which one?"
"Both."
"At present, yes. But Miss Hayes needs stability, nutrition, rest, and reliable medical care. If you are responsible for bringing danger into her life, you need to remove it."
Gabriel nodded.
"I intend to."
"Good intentions don't impress me, Mr. Russo."
For a second, I thought Gabriel might argue.
Instead, he said quietly, "They shouldn't."
The doctor looked surprised.
Then she turned to me.
"There's a room upstairs if you need somewhere to sleep tonight."
I glanced at Gabriel.
He immediately shook his head.
"You can stay. I'll leave."
"Where will you go?"
"Somewhere else."
I studied him.
"Daniel is hunting both of us now."
"Then he can hunt me away from you."
Dr. Cole frowned.
"That seems sensible."
But I knew something Gabriel didn't.
Daniel wanted Gabriel isolated.
Angry.
Humiliated.
And willing to do something reckless.
If Gabriel disappeared alone, Daniel might finish destroying him before dawn.
"You shouldn't go to the penthouse," I said.
Gabriel nodded.
"I know."
"Or your office."
"I know."
"Don't call Marco."
His mouth tightened.
"All right."
I hesitated.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
"Do you have anybody left who isn't connected to Daniel?"
Gabriel thought for a long moment.
Finally, he said, "My sister."
I blinked.
"Isabella?"
He nodded.
I had met Isabella Russo only twice.
She was younger than Gabriel by four years, a civil-rights attorney who lived in Chicago but rarely attended family events.
Gabriel once told me she wanted nothing to do with the criminal side of their family.
"Does she know about Michael?"
"No."
"Would she believe you?"
"Probably not."
"Then why trust her?"
Gabriel looked toward the dark window.
"Because she hates Daniel."
He called her from Henry's office telephone.
She answered immediately.
"Gabriel, if this is about the charity dinner, I'm not coming."
"Isa, I need your help."
Something in his voice silenced her.
"What happened?"
He looked at me.
"Clara's alive."
A long silence followed.
Then Isabella said, "I know."
Gabriel froze.
"What?"
"I know she's alive."
"How?"
Her voice began shaking.
"Because she came to me seven months ago."
I stared at the telephone.
Gabriel gripped it.
"That's impossible."
"No."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because when I tried, Daniel showed me a photograph of my daughter leaving school and told me Clara was being watched."
Isabella had a ten-year-old daughter named Emma.
I remembered the little girl running through Gabriel's garden on the day of his birthday.
My heart sank.
Isabella continued.
"Daniel said if I contacted you, Emma would disappear."
Gabriel closed his eyes.
"Isa—"
"I thought he was bluffing until someone broke into my house."
He drew a sharp breath.
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"I did. They found nothing. Then Daniel sent me a picture of Emma sleeping in her bedroom."
Gabriel said nothing.
Isabella's voice hardened.
"I've spent seven months gathering evidence, Gabriel."
He looked up.
"Evidence of what?"
"Daniel's accounts. His meetings. The shell companies. The people he pays."
"Where are you?"
"At home."
"Is Emma with you?"
"No. She's staying with someone I trust."
"Good."
"Gabriel, there is something you need to know before you come looking for me."
He waited.
Isabella took a shaky breath.
"The reason I knew Clara was alive wasn't because she came to my office."
I felt dread gather in my chest.
"Then where?"
"At the hospital."
Gabriel looked toward me.
"What hospital?"
Isabella's next words made the room feel suddenly airless.
"St. Catherine's."
My old workplace.
"She was brought in unconscious under another name. Someone had tried to cut her open."
I gripped the edge of the table.
I had no memory of that.
None.
"How did you find out?" Gabriel asked.
"I was there for a legal consultation. I recognized her."
"Did you speak to her?"
"No. She was barely conscious."
"Then what happened?"
"Daniel arrived before I could reach her."
The silence stretched.
"He told the doctors she was his wife."
Gabriel swore.
Isabella continued.
"He showed them identification. Medical authorization. Everything looked official."
I felt nauseated.
I had been in my own hospital.
Surrounded by people trained to help me.
And Daniel had walked in and taken me away.
"He moved her before I could stop him," Isabella whispered.
Gabriel stood very still.
Then he asked, "Do you still have the hospital records?"
"Copies."
"Good."
"Gabriel, there's more."
He closed his eyes.
"What?"
"The person who signed the authorization to release Clara wasn't Daniel."
"Who was it?"
Isabella hesitated.
Then she answered.
"Dr. Nathan Reed."
I stared at the telephone.
Nathan Reed had been the emergency department's medical director.
My supervisor.
My mentor.
The man who wrote my recommendation letter when I applied for the trauma fellowship.
The man who hugged me at my mother's funeral.
I sank slowly into a chair.
Gabriel looked at me.
"Clara?"
I barely heard him.
Because one terrible memory had returned.
Three weeks before the warehouse explosion, Nathan had asked me to use my badge to enter a restricted hospital supply room.
He said his access card was malfunctioning.
He smiled.
I trusted him.
And I opened the door.
Now I understood how someone had copied my credentials.
My voice emerged as a whisper.
"Nathan helped them."
Gabriel stared.
"What?"
I looked at him.
May you like
"The evidence they used to frame me started at the hospital."
And for the first time in eight months, I knew the betrayal had begun long before the night I disappeared.
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