Daniel Mercer had been arrested eight months earlier for breaking into Whitmore Development.
According to the official report, security guards found him inside Charles’s executive office at 2:13 in the morning.
He had no weapon.
No stolen property.
He claimed he was trying to return something.
Nobody believed him.
Roman’s attorney arranged a visit.
This time I went.
Daniel looked younger than his photograph.
Thin.
Pale.
Exhausted.
He sat behind thick glass and picked up the phone.
When I said my name, his face changed.
“You’re alive.”
I froze.
“You know me?”
“I’ve been trying to find you.”
Roman stood beside me.
Daniel looked at him.
“Who’s that?”
“A friend.”
Roman’s eyebrow moved.
Friend.
It was the first word I could find.
Daniel leaned closer to the glass.
“I found your drive.”
My heart hammered.
“Where?”
“Not here.”
“Daniel.”
“I’m not stupid.”
Roman almost smiled.
Daniel continued.
“I worked for Keene. I found the drive inside the recipe box when I was cataloging the lot. I plugged it into an old laptop.”
“You opened it?”
“Not really. Most files were encrypted. One wasn’t.”
“What file?”
“Audio.”
My stomach tightened.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“I heard Charles Whitmore talking about moving money through municipal contracts. I heard another man tell him they could put the missing amount on you.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Proof.
Alive somewhere.
“Why did you break into Charles’s office?”
“I thought I could get more evidence.”
“That was incredibly stupid.”
“Yeah. I figured that out around the time six security guards tackled me.”
Roman actually laughed.
Daniel looked offended.
“Glad you enjoyed that.”
“Where’s the drive?” Roman asked.
Daniel studied him.
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
That answer surprised Daniel.
Roman continued.
“Trust Maggie.”
Daniel looked at me.
I leaned closer.
“Please.”
He hesitated.
Then said, “My sister has it.”
“Where?”
“She moves it every few weeks.”
“Why?”
“Because two days after I got arrested, someone broke into her apartment.”
My blood went cold.
“Charles?”
“Who else?”
Daniel gave us his sister’s name.
Ivy Mercer.
Twenty-four.
Elementary school teacher.
Roman had Vincent locate her before we even left the jail.
But Ivy was gone.
Her apartment had been emptied that morning.
No forwarding address.
No phone.
Nothing.
Charles was moving faster.
Back at Ravenwood, tension settled over the house.
The men stopped joking.
Security doubled.
Roman wanted Maggie—me—inside the estate at all times.
I refused to become a prisoner again.
We compromised.
I didn’t leave without telling him.
He didn’t tell me whether I was allowed.
It sounds small.
It wasn’t.
The difference between protection and control is often whether your choices remain yours.
Roman understood that.
Charles never had.
Two days passed without finding Ivy.
Then the reward increased.
One hundred thousand dollars.
Not publicly.
Privately.
Cash for my location.
That night dinner was unusually quiet.
Thirty men ate roast beef and mashed potatoes without their usual arguments.
I noticed the empty chair beside Nico.
“Where’s Frankie?”
Nobody answered.
My stomach tightened.
“Where is he?”
Nico looked toward Roman.
Roman’s face was stone.
Vincent finally said, “Gone.”
“What does gone mean?”
“He left Ravenwood this afternoon.”
The room blurred.
“Did he call Charles?”
“We don’t know.”
I put down my fork.
Roman stood.
“Maggie.”
I backed away.
“I knew it.”
“You don’t know anything yet.”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
“Maggie.”
“That changes people.”
Nico stood.
“Not everybody.”
“One already left.”
Roman walked toward me.
I hated the fear rising inside me.
Because fear sounded like Charles.
Nobody really loves you.
Everybody has a price.
Eventually they understand what you’re worth.
I turned and walked upstairs.
I didn’t pack.
That was progress, I suppose.
But I locked my door.
Hours later someone knocked.
Not Roman.
“Nico.”
I recognized his voice.
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
Silence.
Then he spoke through the door.
“Frankie’s kid has leukemia.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He’s twelve.”
I opened the door.
Nico stood there looking miserable.
“He didn’t tell many people. Treatment bills are killing him.”
“The reward…”
“I don’t know, Ma.”
Neither did I.
That was worse.
At 2:00 a.m., headlights approached Ravenwood.
Security moved immediately.
I came downstairs.
Roman was already in the entry hall.
The door opened.
Frankie walked in.
Blood on his lip.
Jacket torn.
Vincent grabbed him.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Frankie shoved an envelope into Roman’s chest.
“Getting paid.”
Every gun in the room seemed to appear at once.
I froze.
Roman didn’t.
“Explain.”
Frankie looked at me.
Then he opened the envelope.
Cash.
Stacks of it.
My stomach dropped.
“I contacted Whitmore’s people,” he said.
Nico swore.
Frankie continued.
“I told them I knew where she was.”
Roman’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Where did you tell them?”
“An abandoned motel outside Reading.”
Vincent stared.
Frankie grinned despite his bleeding mouth.
“They paid twenty grand upfront.”
For three seconds, nobody understood.
Then Nico started laughing.
“You crooked idiot.”
Frankie winced.
“Charles’s guy wasn’t amused when he figured it out.”
Roman looked at the blood.
“He did that?”
“Mostly.”
“What did you learn?”
Frankie’s smile disappeared.
“They aren’t just looking for Maggie.”
He glanced toward me.
“They’re looking for a woman named Ivy Mercer too.”
My chest tightened.
“Do they know where she is?”
“No. But they know she has something.”
“The drive.”
Frankie nodded.
“And there’s more.”
He looked at Roman.
“They’re planning to move Charles’s money tomorrow night. Offshore accounts. If that happens, whatever Maggie exposes might not recover a dime.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
I looked around the room.
At Frankie.
Nico.
Sal.
Vincent.
Thirty men.
Men I had feared three weeks earlier.
Men Charles thought could be bought.
Frankie pushed the envelope toward me.
“Here.”
“What?”
“Twenty grand.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Good. Neither do I.”
He turned to Roman.
“Put it toward Daniel Mercer’s lawyer.”
I stared at him.
“What about your son?”
Frankie’s expression softened.
“Boss already covered his treatment this morning.”
I looked at Roman.
Roman looked annoyed.
“You weren’t supposed to know that.”
Something inside me shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
But enough.
Charles had taught me that money was leverage.
Roman kept showing me it could also be responsibility.
The next morning, Ivy Mercer called Ravenwood.
She had gotten the number from Daniel’s attorney.
Her voice shook.
“I have the drive.”
I gripped the phone.
“Are you safe?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
She named a train station outside Lancaster.
Roman and Vincent immediately moved.
“I’ll meet you,” I said.
Roman shook his head.
“I’m going.”
“So am I.”
“Maggie—”
“She’s risking herself because of evidence that belongs to my fight.”
Roman stared at me.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
We reached the station forty minutes later.
Ivy stood near a newspaper kiosk holding a backpack.
I saw her.
She saw me.
Relief crossed her face.
Then a man in a dark coat stepped from behind a pillar.
Elliot Graves.
Charles’s security chief.
“Ivy!” I screamed.
Everything happened at once.
Roman moved.
Vincent moved.
Graves grabbed Ivy’s backpack.
She fought him.
The zipper tore.
Books spilled across the platform.
A train horn screamed in the distance.
Roman slammed Graves against a column.
Vincent pulled Ivy away.
I dropped to my knees beside the scattered contents.
Notebook.
Wallet.
Scarf.
No drive.
“Ivy!”
She looked at me.
“Where is it?”
Graves started laughing.
Ivy smiled.
“I’m a teacher.”
I stared.
“So?”
“You think I’d carry something that important in my backpack?”
She reached inside her coat.
From a hidden pocket, she removed a tiny black drive.
My knees nearly buckled.
Then Roman’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A familiar voice came through the speaker.
Charles.
“Hello, Roman.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
Charles continued calmly.
“I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
Roman looked directly at me.
“No,” he said.
“I believe I have someone who doesn’t.”