Victor wanted Harper gone before sunrise.
Not killed.
Not fired.
Gone somewhere safe.
Harper refused.
“You said I was free.”
“You are.”
“Then stop ordering me around.”
“You have people trying to kill you.”
“So do you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
Victor opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Harper crossed her arms.
“Exactly.”
Dominic looked suspiciously amused.
Victor noticed.
“Leave.”
Dominic immediately stopped smiling.
“Yes, boss.”
When they were alone, Victor lowered his voice.
“Harper, this isn’t a game.”
“I know.”
“You don’t understand what these people will do.”
“I understand perfectly.”
She stepped closer.
“They trapped my brother with gambling debt. They trapped me inside your house. They poisoned you. They shot through a window while you were standing beside me.”
Her voice hardened.
“I’m tired of running my life around what cruel people might do.”
Victor stared at her.
“So what do you want?”
“I want to help finish it.”
“You’re a housemaid.”
Harper’s face changed.
Victor immediately regretted the words.
“Harper—”
“No.”
She removed her apron.
Then she placed it on his desk.
“You’re right.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.”
She turned toward the door.
Victor caught her wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop her.
Harper looked down at his hand.
He released her immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him.
“I spent eleven months being treated like furniture.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her eyes filled.
“You know what you saw after you started paying attention.”
Victor had no answer.
Harper picked up the black ledger.
“I cleaned your study every day.”
She opened it.
“I know you always keep this book twelve degrees to the left of the desk blotter.”
Victor frowned.
“I know Arthur touched it because afterward it was straight.”
She flipped pages.
“I know Michael drank coffee when he visited during the day but bourbon when he visited after ten.”
Another page.
“I know Evelyn started carrying peppermint gum six weeks ago because she was smoking outside with someone.”
Victor stared at her.
Harper continued.
“I know the man who attacked us last night has been inside this house.”
“How?”
“The note.”
She held it up.
“The paper smells like cedar.”
Victor waited.
“So?”
“The stationery cabinet in the downstairs library is cedar-lined.”
Silence.
Victor’s expression changed.
Harper pointed toward the words.
“And the ink is dark blue.”
Victor understood.
His household used dark-blue fountain pen ink for handwritten invitations.
The threatening note had been written inside the Romano estate.
The shooter hadn’t merely penetrated the perimeter.
Someone inside had prepared the message.
Victor summoned Dominic.
They searched the library.
A sheet of stationery was missing.
Security records showed only seven people had entered the room during the previous twenty-four hours.
One was Harper.
One was Victor.
One was Dominic.
Two were guards.
One was Michael.
The final person was Victor’s longtime attorney, Jonathan Price.
Nobody had suspected him.
That was the mistake.
Harper did.
She remembered Price entering the library carrying a leather portfolio.
She remembered him leaving without it.
Dominic found the portfolio behind a false panel.
Inside were copies of Victor’s accounts, photographs of security positions, and payment records linking Price to the rival Moretti organization.
The conspiracy collapsed.
Jonathan tried escaping through the garage.
He didn’t make it past the gate.
Within hours, the Romano organization had enough evidence to identify the outside architect of the plot.
Vincent Moretti.
Victor’s oldest rival.
The same man who had helped Michael arrange the ambush.
The same man who wanted Harper silenced.
Victor prepared for war.
Harper prepared cinnamon rolls.
It wasn’t intentional.
She simply couldn’t sleep.
At four in the morning, she found flour, butter, brown sugar, yeast, and cinnamon in the estate kitchen.
Baking gave her hands something peaceful to do.
Victor appeared at five.
He wore black pants and a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His tattoos extended across both forearms.
He stopped when he smelled the kitchen.
“What is that?”
“Your greatest weakness.”
“I don’t have weaknesses.”
Harper placed a warm cinnamon roll on a plate.
“You have several.”
He looked offended.
“Name one.”
“Trust.”
He stopped smiling.
Harper winced.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
Victor sat.
“You’re right.”
She placed the plate in front of him.
He stared at it.
“I told you I don’t like these.”
“You also told me you could identify traitors.”
He looked at her.
“Harper.”
“Victor.”
It was the first time she had used his first name.
Both noticed.
Neither mentioned it.
Victor took a bite.
Harper waited.
“Well?”
He chewed.
Another bite.
“You’re extremely annoying.”
She smiled.
“You like it.”
“I tolerate it.”
He finished the entire thing.
Harper laughed.
Victor looked at her.
Something changed.
She felt it.
The kitchen suddenly seemed smaller.
He stood.
Walked around the island.
Stopped in front of her.
Harper’s smile disappeared.
Victor touched a streak of flour on her cheek.
His fingers lingered.
Harper’s breath caught.
Then the front doors opened somewhere beyond the kitchen.
Caleb rushed in.
“Harper!”
They separated.
Caleb carried a laptop.
“I found something.”
He set it on the counter.
Arthur had maintained a hidden betting database.
Caleb had discovered it while helping Dominic identify accounts.
Thousands of names.
Thousands of debts.
But many had the same pattern as Caleb’s.
People borrowed money.
Paid it back.
Then continued owing.
Arthur hadn’t operated a gambling business.
He had operated a pipeline for blackmail.
Victor stared at the screen.
“How many?”
“Four hundred and seventeen.”
Harper whispered, “Four hundred and seventeen people?”
Caleb nodded.
“Some work for judges. Some cops. City employees. Business owners.”
Victor understood immediately.
Arthur’s private empire had been hidden inside Victor’s.
Arthur hadn’t merely betrayed him.
He had been preparing to replace him.
Victor looked toward Harper.
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“The enemies weren’t outside.”
He closed the laptop.
“They were already living under my roof.”
Then Dominic entered.
His face was pale.
“Victor.”
“What?”
“We lost Arthur.”
Victor froze.
“What do you mean?”
“The transport vehicle was hit.”
“Where is he?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Gone.”
Harper’s stomach dropped.
Dominic continued.
“And he took Caleb’s original debt file.”
Caleb looked confused.
“Why would he want that?”
Harper knew.
Because the file didn’t only contain Caleb’s information.
It contained hers.
Her Social Security number.
Her old address.
Her bank information.
Everything Arthur needed to find every place Harper might ever run.
Victor turned toward her.
“Now you leave.”
Before Harper could argue, every light in the estate went dark.
And from somewhere inside the blackened house came three gunshots.