For one impossible second, nobody moved.
Then Vincent fell.
Harper reached him before his body hit the concrete.
“Vincent!”
Blood covered her hand.
Gideon backed toward the office corridor.
Daniel fired.
Gideon disappeared behind the steel door.
Harper pressed both hands against Vincent’s side.
“Look at me.”
His eyes opened.
“I’m looking.”
“Don’t be funny.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
The bullet had entered high along his side.
Harper couldn’t tell whether it had exited.
Daniel called Marcus.
Harper kept pressure on the wound.
Vincent’s hand closed around her wrist.
“Your family?”
“Safe.”
“Good.”
“Stop talking.”
“You usually want me to communicate more.”
Tears blurred her vision.
“This is not what I meant.”
Gunfire erupted elsewhere.
Marcus’s team had entered the warehouse.
Vincent’s breathing became shallow.
Harper bent close.
“You stay with me.”
“Planning to.”
“You better.”
His eyes met hers.
“Harper.”
“No.”
“I need to say—”
“No.”
“Would you stop interrupting me?”
“When you’re not bleeding.”
His mouth almost curved.
Then his eyes closed.
“Vincent!”
The next twenty minutes became fragments.
Paramedics.
Sirens.
Marcus shouting orders.
Emily holding Harper’s shoulders while medics lifted Vincent onto a stretcher.
Gideon escaping through a secondary vehicle tunnel.
Then Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
Harper sat beneath fluorescent lights with Vincent’s blood dried across her green dress.
Her mother sat beside her.
Emily brought coffee Harper never touched.
Marcus paced.
At 3:46 a.m., a surgeon appeared.
Harper stood so quickly the room tilted.
“The bullet passed through,” the doctor said. “It damaged muscle but missed major organs and vessels.”
Harper exhaled for what felt like the first time in an hour.
“He’s stable.”
She covered her face.
Her mother wrapped an arm around her.
Marcus sat down heavily.
The doctor continued.
“He’ll need observation, but barring complications, he should recover.”
“Can I see him?” Harper asked.
The doctor hesitated.
“Immediate family?”
Harper stopped.
There it was again.
The question she could never answer.
What was she to Vincent?
Secretary?
Friend?
Woman he had almost confessed something to before being shot?
Marcus stepped forward.
“She’s family.”
Harper looked at him.
Marcus didn’t blink.
The doctor nodded.
“Five minutes.”
Vincent was unconscious when Harper entered.
Without the suit, authority, and controlled expression, he looked younger.
Human.
She sat beside him.
“You idiot.”
No response.
“You absolute, impossible idiot.”
Her voice broke.
She took his hand.
“I was supposed to leave tonight.”
The heart monitor continued its steady rhythm.
“I had a hotel booked in Milwaukee. I was going to stay there for a week, then decide where to go.”
She laughed weakly.
“I had everything planned.”
Vincent’s fingers moved.
Harper froze.
His eyes opened slightly.
“Milwaukee?”
She stared.
“You’re awake.”
“Apparently.”
“You were listening?”
“Enough.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You picked Milwaukee?”
“It was temporary.”
“Terrible choice.”
Harper laughed and cried simultaneously.
Vincent’s eyes softened.
“Come here.”
“You’ve been shot.”
“My arms work.”
She leaned closer.
He touched her cheek.
“I thought I lost you in that warehouse.”
“You were the one who got shot.”
“I know.”
His thumb brushed away a tear.
“And all I could think was that you were going to leave before I told you.”
“Told me what?”
He closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, there was no hesitation left.
“I love you.”
Harper forgot how to breathe.
Vincent continued.
“I think I have for longer than I understood. Maybe since the day you walked into my office and told me my calendar was ‘an act of violence against basic mathematics.’”
“It was.”
“I know.”
Her tears fell harder.
“I didn’t say anything because I thought silence protected you.”
“From what?”
“Me.”
Harper stared at him.
“My life. My enemies. The imbalance between us. I convinced myself that wanting you quietly was honorable.”
“And was it?”
“No.”
He gave a tired smile.
“It was cowardice dressed as restraint.”
Harper lowered her forehead to his hand.
“Vincent.”
“I’m not asking you to stay as my secretary.”
She looked up.
“I’m not asking anything tonight.”
“Good.”
“Because apparently kidnapping your employee for a romantic conversation is frowned upon.”
“Strongly.”
His smile faded.
“But if, after Gideon is finished and your family is safe, you still want to leave, I’ll let you.”
Harper squeezed his hand.
“And if I don’t?”
Vincent looked at her as if the possibility frightened him more than the bullet had.
“Then I spend however long it takes proving you were never invisible to me.”
A knock interrupted them.
Marcus entered.
“Sorry.”
Vincent immediately became alert.
“What?”
“We found something.”
Harper stood.
Marcus handed her a tablet.
Police scanners and private security reports showed Gideon had abandoned the warehouse.
But he had not fled Chicago.
Instead, three Romano-controlled properties had reported armed personnel arriving before dawn.
“He’s consolidating,” Vincent said.
Marcus nodded.
“Calling captains. Telling them you’re dead.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
Harper looked at the screen.
“He’s staging a succession.”
“Yes.”
Marcus continued.
“And he’s telling everyone you died because Harper sold you out.”
Harper stared at him.
“What?”
“He says she was working with Morello,” Marcus told Vincent. “Says she stole internal files, lured you to Bellwood, and handed them over.”
Vincent tried to sit up.
Pain stopped him.
“Easy,” Harper said.
“He’s making her the traitor.”
“Because he needs an explanation for the evidence,” Harper said.
Marcus nodded.
“And because if people believe Harper caused your death, anyone loyal to you will hunt her instead of Gideon.”
Vincent’s face became frighteningly calm.
“Then we tell them I’m alive.”
Harper looked at him.
“No.”
Both men stared at her.
She continued.
“Not yet.”
Vincent frowned.
“Explain.”
“Gideon thinks you’re dead?”
“Yes.”
“Then for the first time in months, he thinks he has won.”
Vincent understood.
“And people make mistakes when they think they’ve won.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus smiled slowly.
Harper sat beside the bed and opened the financial records.
“We let Gideon call his meeting. We let every person who has been secretly working with him come into the same room.”
Vincent stared at her.
“You want to use my death as bait.”
“You’re not using it.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I am.”
Despite the pain, Vincent laughed.
Marcus shook his head.
“You two deserve each other.”
Harper ignored him.
“Gideon needs formal support. He’ll call the senior captains and company directors together.”
“At the Michigan Avenue club,” Vincent said.
“Then that’s where we end this.”
Vincent looked at her.
“We?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Harper stared.
“You were doing so well.”
“You are not walking into a room full of armed men.”
“I’m the person Gideon accused.”
“Exactly.”
“And I’m the person with the evidence.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
Harper leaned closer.
“You said you loved me.”
“I do.”
“Then don’t turn that into another reason to make decisions for me.”
He went silent.
Harper continued softly.
“Protecting me doesn’t mean controlling me.”
Vincent looked away.
When he returned his gaze to hers, something had changed.
“Okay.”
Harper blinked.
“Okay?”
“You’re right.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Are the painkillers causing personality changes?”
Marcus laughed.
Vincent ignored him.
“We do it together.”
Harper smiled.
“Together.”
By noon, Gideon had announced an emergency meeting for eight that evening.
Vincent’s supposed death remained unconfirmed publicly.
Within the organization, however, the rumor spread like fire.
At 7:52 p.m., Gideon Romano stood before twenty-two powerful men inside the private Michigan Avenue club his grandfather had founded.
Harper watched through a concealed camera.
Vincent stood beside her in a secure room two floors below, pale but upright beneath a fresh black suit.
“You should be in bed,” she whispered.
“I was.”
“For six hours.”
“Very boring.”
“You were shot.”
“I’ve heard.”
On-screen, Gideon raised a glass.
“To Vincent.”
Harper felt Vincent stiffen.
Gideon continued.
“My cousin was many things. Strong. Intelligent. Loyal to his vision.”
His performance was almost convincing.
Then he said, “Unfortunately, his trust in the wrong woman destroyed him.”
Harper felt Vincent’s anger.
She touched his hand.
“Wait.”
Gideon placed Harper’s photograph on the screen.
“This woman betrayed the Romano family.”
Several men murmured.
Then an older man named Salvatore Greco stood.
“I don’t believe it.”
Gideon frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve known Harper four years. She saved Romano Logistics from bankruptcy.”
Another man nodded.
“She found the port fraud.”
A third said, “Vincent trusted her.”
Gideon’s expression hardened.
“Vincent’s trust is why he is dead.”
Harper whispered, “Now.”
The doors to the meeting room opened.
Every man turned.
Vincent Romano walked inside.
Silence fell so completely that Harper could hear the hum of the camera system.
Gideon went white.
Vincent stopped at the end of the table.
“You always were terrible at funerals,” he said.
Then Harper walked in behind him carrying the evidence that could destroy Gideon.
But Gideon smiled.
And Harper immediately knew something was wrong.
He reached inside his jacket.
Not for a gun.
For a phone.
“Before anyone listens to Miss Hayes,” Gideon said, “perhaps they should hear the recording she forgot existed.”
He pressed play.
Harper’s own voice filled the room.
“I need Vincent Romano removed before tomorrow morning.”
Every face turned toward her.
Even Vincent’s.