Chapter 2 - THE COMPASS OF LIES

I stared at the lawyer’s body, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a gasp.

The digital notary system on his computer screen was glowing bright blue, waiting for a final password authorization.

“Liam didn't want to leave loose ends,” Dominic said grimly, stepping closer to the desk. He checked Marcus’s pulse out of habit, though the single bullet hole in the back of the lawyer’s head made it entirely unnecessary.

“If Marcus is dead, who authorizes the transfer?” I asked, panic creeping back into my voice.

“Liam will use Marcus’s override codes,” Dominic said, scanning the desk. “He just needed Marcus to set up the encrypted portal. Once it was open, Liam silenced him to ensure Marcus couldn't flip on him later.”

Answer One: Marcus was the inside man, but Liam had assassinated him to consolidate control and eliminate witnesses.

Open Two: If Marcus is dead, how do we find out where Leo is being held on the massive Brooklyn pier? And how do we access the digital override?

I walked around the desk, forcing myself to look past the blood.

“The computer is locked,” I noted, staring at the flashing password prompt. “We can’t cancel the transfer from here.”

Dominic began rifling through Marcus’s jacket pockets. “Marcus was old school. He never trusted digital clouds. If he had the override codes for Liam, he kept a physical backup.”

Dominic pulled a sleek, silver Zippo lighter from the lawyer’s breast pocket. He tossed it onto the desk in frustration. “Nothing but cigars and loose change.”

I looked at the silver lighter resting near the pool of blood.

My heart stopped.

I reached out and picked it up with trembling fingers.

Engraved on the polished silver casing was a very specific, elegant crest. A bell tower surrounded by ivy.

The logo of the Bellmont Hotel.

“Chloe?” Dominic noticed my expression. “What is it?”

“This is a VIP lighter from the Bellmont,” I whispered, turning the cold metal over in my hand. “They only give these to top-tier guests holding private events.”

“Marcus was at the hotel today for your wedding,” Dominic reasoned.

“No,” I said, shaking my head slowly as a horrific memory surfaced. “My father died at the Bellmont six months ago. He was there having a private lunch with Liam to discuss the wedding logistics. Dad had a heart attack in the hotel restaurant.”

I looked up at Dominic, the realization crushing the air from my lungs.

“My dad didn't drink. He didn't smoke. But when I collected his personal effects from the coroner, this exact lighter was in his coat pocket. I thought Liam had accidentally left it there.”

Dominic’s eyes darkened with dangerous understanding.

Reversal: Liam hadn't poisoned my father six months ago. Marcus had. Marcus had slipped the poison into Arthur’s coffee during that lunch to protect the embezzlement ring, and he had accidentally left his custom lighter in my father’s coat in the rush.

“Marcus killed your father,” Dominic stated softly.

“And Liam knew,” I choked out, a fresh wave of rage washing away the fear. “Liam watched him die.”

I slammed the lighter down onto the desk. The sound echoed like a gunshot.

“We are not letting Liam Foster walk away with your port, and we are not letting him touch Leo,” I said, my voice hardening into absolute ice. I grabbed the computer mouse.

“What are you doing?” Dominic asked. “You don't have the password.”

“I don't need Marcus’s password,” I said, my fingers flying across the keyboard. “I need the IP address of the terminal Liam is logging into to receive the authorization.”

I pulled up the network history. As a logistics coordinator, tracking encrypted cargo routes was my specialty. Data packets were just digital shipping containers.

“There,” I pointed to the screen. “Marcus’s computer sent a handshake ping to an external router five minutes ago. The IP belongs to a private maritime network.”

I cross-referenced the IP on my phone.

“It’s not just a terminal on Pier 42,” I said, looking up at him. “It’s a mobile router. It’s registered to a private yacht moored at Slip 7.”

“The Silver Queen,” Dominic recognized the registration. “It belongs to the Moretti family.”

“That’s where Leo is,” I said, grabbing my father’s briefcase. “Liam is sitting on that yacht, waiting for midnight to finalize the transfer.”

Dominic checked his watch. 11:15 PM.

“We have forty-five minutes,” Dominic said. He looked at my bare, bleeding feet and the ruined wedding dress.

He walked over to a leather sofa in the corner of the office, picked up a pair of heavy tactical boots that Marcus kept for winter storms, and tossed them to me.

“Put them on,” Dominic ordered.

I slipped my feet into the oversized boots, lacing them tight. They were heavy, but they offered protection. I grabbed a pair of sharp desk scissors and hacked off the remaining tulle of my wedding skirt until it hung just above my knees, allowing me to run freely.

I looked in the mirror. I was no longer a bride. I looked like a soldier.