Chapter 3 - THE SINS OF THE FATHERS
The silence in the laundry room was suffocating.
Nora stared at Adrian. Her mind violently rejected what he had just said.
“That’s a lie,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “The police report said it was an industrial accident. A structural collapse.”
“The police report was bought and paid for by my father,” Adrian replied, his voice harsh but steady. He moved toward the heavy steel door of the laundry room, pressing his ear against it. “Your father was the chief structural engineer for Blackwood Meridian. He designed the sub-basement vault. And ten years ago, he realized my father and Vivienne’s father were using it to launder money for a cartel.”
Nora felt the floor tilt beneath her.
Ten years of grief. Ten years of struggling to pay the bills, raising her younger brother Leo alone after their mother walked out.
“He tried to blow the whistle,” Adrian continued, checking his silver pocket watch—a heavy, antique piece. “When they found out, they went after him. But Arthur was brilliant. He locked down the vault, trapped the ledger inside, and vanished. We assumed they killed him and hid the body.”
“He’s dead,” Nora said, tears finally spilling hot down her cheeks. “I buried an empty casket because they said the fire left nothing. I was twenty years old!”
Adrian turned to her, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second. “I didn’t know, Nora. I inherited this mess. I’ve spent the last five years trying to clean up my father’s sins, trying to go legitimate. That’s why Vivienne staged this tonight. I was going to expose the Laurents tomorrow morning.”
Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Marcus’s men were sweeping the floor.
“We have to move,” Adrian whispered.
He grabbed a heavy iron pipe from a broken laundry cart and handed it to Nora. Then he eased the door open. The hallway was empty, but the shadows were long.
They moved quickly toward the service stairwell.
Nora’s mind was racing. The spoon. The code. Vivienne’s cruel smile.
“Wait,” Nora stopped in the stairwell. “If my father disappeared ten years ago... why did Vivienne bring that spoon tonight? Why did she want me to see it?”
Adrian froze.
He looked at Nora. The realization hit him like a physical blow.
“She didn’t just want the company,” Adrian muttered, horror bleeding into his voice. “She needs the ledger to destroy me. But the vault requires a biometric failsafe. Arthur’s DNA.”
Nora shook her head. “But my father is dead. I told you.”
“Bloodline,” Adrian said, staring at her. “The system accepts direct bloodline matches. She doesn’t need your father, Nora. She needs you.”
Nora felt the air leave her lungs.
Suddenly, her apron pocket vibrated.
Nora flinched. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.
Unknown number.
Her fingers shook as she answered it and put it on speaker.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Nora?”
The voice was small. Frightened.
“Leo?” Nora choked out. Her seven-year-old brother was supposed to be at his friend’s sleepover in Brooklyn.
“Nora, this lady came to Tommy’s house. She said you sent her.” Leo’s voice hitched with a sob. “I’m scared. We’re in a big black car.”
Vivienne’s voice smoothly replaced the child’s.
“He has your eyes, Nora. Very expressive.”
“Don’t you touch him!” Nora screamed, clutching the phone so hard her knuckles turned white.
“Bring Adrian to the sub-basement vault in exactly twenty minutes,” Vivienne said, her tone as casual as if she were ordering wine. “If you try to call the police, or if you make me wait... little Leo will have a very tragic accident on the way home.”
The line went dead.
Nora collapsed against the concrete wall, sliding down until she hit the stairs. She couldn't breathe. Leo was her whole world.
Adrian knelt beside her. He didn’t offer empty comforts. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. No signal. The jammers were active.
Then he looked at Nora’s phone.
“How did she call you if the building’s cell service is jammed?” Adrian asked quietly.
Nora looked up, confused.
Adrian took her phone, turned it over, and popped the back casing off.
Tucked neatly inside the battery compartment was a flat, metallic disc no larger than a dime.
A military-grade GPS and audio transmitter.
“She hasn't been hunting us,” Adrian whispered, his eyes dark with fury. “She’s been listening to us.”
Before Nora could process this, the heavy metal door at the top of the stairs slammed open.
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Marcus stood on the landing. In his hand was a suppressed pistol, aimed directly at Adrian’s chest.
“Time’s up,” Marcus said.
