Chapter 2 - The Name on the Death List
The next morning, the mansion felt less like a home and more like a fortress.
Every entrance had two guards.
Every window was checked.
My car was searched before breakfast.
My phone was replaced.
Even the florist who delivered the morning roses was questioned.
I hated it.
I hated Ethan more.
And yet I couldn't stop replaying the moment he had shielded me with his body.
I had spent three months believing I meant nothing to him.
Now I wasn't sure what I believed.
At 10:00 a.m., Brian knocked on my bedroom door.
“Mrs. Carter.”
“Come in.”
He entered carrying a black folder.
“Mr. Carter wants you downstairs.”
“Does he?”
“Yes.”
“Did he send an explanation?”
“No.”
“Of course he didn't.”
Brian almost smiled.
Then he didn't.
We went to Ethan's study.
The same room.
The same door.
The same place where I had overheard the conversation that ruined my wedding day.
Ethan was standing beside the fireplace.
Derek was there.
So was another man I'd never seen before.
Older.
Silver hair.
Thin smile.
“Jane,” Ethan said.
I hated how normal it sounded.
“Who is he?”
“Henry Vale.”
Henry stepped forward.
“I represent several of Ethan's logistics interests.”
“He's a lawyer?”
“Among other things.”
I sat.
“What happened?”
Ethan placed a file on the desk.
“Your name appeared on a death list.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He opened the file.
There was my photograph.
My birth date.
My address.
My movements.
My favorite restaurants.
The names of my teachers.
The hospital where I was born.
And beneath it:
Priority target.
My hands turned cold.
“Who made this?”
“We don't know.”
“Then why are you showing me?”
“Because I found it in a shipment coming through one of my warehouses.”
I looked at Ethan.
“Who else knows?”
“Too many people.”
Derek laughed softly.
Ethan turned toward him.
“Leave.”
Derek's smile disappeared.
“Ethan—”
“Now.”
Derek walked out.
The door closed.
I stared at the file.
“Why would anyone want me dead?”
Ethan sat across from me.
“Because you are my wife.”
“That doesn't explain anything.”
“It does in my world.”
“I don't want your world.”
“I know.”
“Then let me leave it.”
He was silent.
“Jane.”
“What?”
“If you leave now, they won't stop.”
“Who?”
“The Russo family.”
I frowned.
“My father's enemies?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Your father controls something they need.”
“Territory.”
“More than territory.”
He pushed another file toward me.
Inside were shipping manifests.
Port contracts.
Property deeds.
Warehouse registrations.
And a list of names.
At the top was my father's.
Beside it:
Blackwater Corridor.
“What is that?”
“A shipping route.”
“Why is it important?”
“It connects three ports.”
“And?”
“It moves more money than people realize.”
I looked at him.
“Then this marriage was business.”
“Yes.”
I hated hearing it aloud.
“Nothing else?”
Ethan's expression changed.
“I didn't say that.”
“Then say what you mean.”
He looked down.
“I was supposed to use this marriage to absorb your father's territory.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because your father refused to transfer everything.”
I stared at him.
“Then why am I still here?”
“Because your father is dead.”
My heart stopped.
“My father isn't dead.”
Ethan went still.
“What?”
I laughed nervously.
“My father is in Florida.”
Ethan's face became unreadable.
“Jane.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He slowly stood.
“When did you last speak to your father?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he was taking a business trip.”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“Did he call?”
“Yes.”
“What number?”
I grabbed my phone.
The number appeared.
Ethan took it.
He handed it to Brian.
“Trace it.”
Brian left.
I felt panic spreading through me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because that number belongs to a disconnected phone.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“No.”
Ethan moved closer.
“Jane, your father disappeared five months ago.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“His lawyer reported him missing.”
“No.”
“His bank accounts haven't moved.”
“No.”
“Someone has been pretending to be him.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Why would they do that?”
“To keep you from realizing you're alone.”
I stared at him.
“And you knew?”
“I suspected.”
“How long?”
“Since before the wedding.”
The betrayal was worse than anything I had felt before.
“You married me knowing my father was missing?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed time to find him.”
I slapped him.
Again.
His head barely moved.
“You bastard.”
“I know.”
“You let me think my father was safe.”
“I thought he might be.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Was anything true?”
He looked at me for a long time.
“You.”
I almost laughed.
“Don't.”
“I mean it.”
“You don't get to say things like that after everything.”
He nodded.
“That's fair.”
Brian returned.
His expression was grim.
“The number was routed through eleven different accounts.”
“Can you find the source?” Ethan asked.
“Eventually.”
Ethan nodded.
Then Brian added:
“There was one more thing.”
“What?”
“The death list wasn't generated by the Russos.”
Silence.
“Then who?” Ethan asked.
Brian looked at me.
“Someone inside the Carter organization.”
Ethan's face hardened.
“Who has access?”
“Forty-three people.”
“And which of them knew Jane's schedule?”
Brian hesitated.
“Derek.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
I felt something cold move through me.
“Your cousin?”
“He handles internal intelligence.”
“So he knew where I would be.”
“Yes.”
“And he left the bird.”
Brian shook his head.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Then who?”
Brian's answer came quietly.
“Someone above him.”
Ethan's eyes lifted.
“There is no one above him.”
Brian looked at me.
“There is one person.”
The room fell silent.
“Who?”
Brian swallowed.
“Your mother.”
I froze.
“My mother died when I was six.”
“Yes.”
“That isn't possible.”
Ethan looked at Brian.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Who confirmed it?”
“Derek.”
My heart began pounding.
My mother had supposedly died in a car accident seventeen years earlier.
I remembered the funeral.
The flowers.
The church.
My father's red eyes.
Except suddenly one memory felt wrong.
I had never seen her body.
Not once.
Ethan stared at me.
“What do you remember about your mother's accident?”
“Nothing.”
“Try.”
I closed my eyes.
Rain.
Headlights.
My father carrying me.
Someone shouting.
And a woman's voice.
Not my father's.
A whisper beside my ear.
“Run, little bird.”
I opened my eyes.
Ethan was watching me.
“I remember something.”
“What?”
May you like
I whispered:
“She told me to run.”
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