By sunrise, Elena’s life no longer belonged to her.
At least, that was how it felt.
Her apartment had been declared unsafe.
Her car was unusable.
Her father was hidden somewhere Adrian refused to disclose.
And Elena herself had been moved into the penthouse under what Adrian called temporary protection.
Elena called it kidnapping with excellent room service.
“You’re not a prisoner,” Adrian said.
She stood in the guest bedroom doorway wearing borrowed sweatpants and one of Adrian’s black T-shirts.
“You put guards at the elevator.”
“They’re guarding you.”
“From leaving?”
“From dying.”
“That answer is becoming predictable.”
Adrian stood across the hall holding his phone.
He had changed clothes.
Dark charcoal suit.
Open collar.
The cut on his cheek had been cleaned.
Elena hated noticing that.
She hated even more that she had noticed his eyes looked tired.
“You haven’t slept,” she said.
“Neither have you.”
“I tried.”
“You reorganized the books in the guest room.”
“They were arranged by color.”
“Yes.”
“That is barbaric.”
“They’re decorative.”
“Books are not decorative.”
Adrian stared at her.
“You broke into my office at five thirty this morning.”
“The door was open.”
“You read confidential paperwork.”
“It was on the desk.”
“You moved my chessboard.”
“The queen was positioned incorrectly.”
“There was a game in progress.”
“Not anymore.”
His mouth twitched.
Elena pointed.
“There. You did it again.”
“What?”
“You almost smiled.”
“Unproven.”
A knock came from the main entrance.
Vincent entered carrying a thick folder.
He placed it before Adrian.
“Done.”
Elena looked between them.
“What’s done?”
Adrian opened the folder.
“The building.”
“What building?”
“Yours.”
“What about it?”
“I bought it.”
Silence.
Elena blinked.
“You what?”
“The ownership transfer completed twenty minutes ago.”
“You bought my apartment building?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So I control security.”
Elena stared at him.
“You bought an eighteen-story building because someone broke into my apartment?”
“Yes.”
“That is insane.”
“It was efficient.”
“It is not efficient to buy real estate whenever someone threatens you.”
“For me, sometimes it is.”
Elena walked toward him.
“People live there.”
“I’m aware.”
“Do their leases change?”
“No.”
“Rent?”
“No.”
“Management?”
“Gone.”
She paused.
“Good.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“They ignored seven noise complaints.”
“I remember.”
“And you’re adding security?”
“Already being installed.”
“Cameras?”
“Yes.”
“Better garage access?”
“Yes.”
“The elevator on eight sticks.”
“I’ll have it fixed.”
“Mrs. Donnelly in 7C has complained about her heater for two winters.”
Adrian looked at Vincent.
Vincent sighed.
“I’ll add it.”
Elena folded her arms.
“If you’re going to become a landlord, you might as well be useful.”
Adrian stared at her for several seconds.
Then something astonishing happened.
He laughed.
Not loudly.
Not for long.
But genuinely.
Vincent looked shocked.
Elena did too.
Adrian’s face became serious again almost immediately.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The humor disappeared when Marcus entered.
Elena rushed toward him.
“Dad.”
He looked exhausted but unharmed.
Adrian closed the penthouse office doors behind them.
Marcus sat at the table.
“I remembered something.”
Adrian remained standing.
“What?”
“The second man in that warehouse.”
“The gray-haired one?”
Marcus nodded.
“He had a pin on his jacket.”
“What kind?”
“A gold crest. Eagle over a bridge.”
Adrian went completely still.
Vincent muttered something Elena didn’t understand.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Adrian didn’t answer immediately.
Marcus looked frightened.
“That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?” Elena asked again.
Adrian moved toward the windows.
“Senator William Harrow.”
Elena stared.
“A senator?”
“State senator. Chair of the infrastructure committee.”
“What does he have to do with criminal warehouses?”
“Money.”
Marcus rubbed both hands over his face.
“I knew I should’ve kept walking.”
Adrian turned.
“Tell me exactly what you heard.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“They were arguing about a contract. Harrow said the port expansion needed to be approved before October. Vescari said he could move anything through the new terminals if the inspections were controlled.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“And the police captain?”
“Captain Doyle.”
Vincent swore.
Elena looked at Adrian.
“What does any of this have to do with you?”
“Vescari has been trying to take control of the waterfront for two years.”
“And you?”
Adrian said nothing.
Elena understood.
“You already control it.”
“Parts.”
“Legal parts?”
A pause.
“Some.”
She exhaled.
“Wonderful.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“They know I saw them. I told them I didn’t understand anything, but they didn’t believe me.”
“Because you ran,” Adrian said.
“I panicked.”
“Then you contacted someone.”
Marcus froze.
Adrian’s gaze sharpened.
“You contacted someone, Marcus.”
Elena turned toward her father.
“Dad?”
Marcus looked ashamed.
“I sent copies of the warehouse records to a reporter.”
Adrian closed his eyes briefly.
Vincent walked toward the bar.
“Fantastic.”
Elena stared at Marcus.
“What reporter?”
“Lena Shaw. Chicago Ledger.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Did she respond?”
“She said she needed proof.”
“Did you give it?”
“I told her I could.”
Adrian walked toward Marcus.
“Where are the originals?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
Adrian’s voice dropped.
“This is not the time to be brave.”
“It’s insurance.”
“It’s leverage that can get your daughter killed.”
Marcus flinched.
Elena stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Neither man moved.
Elena looked at Adrian.
“You will not threaten him.”
“I’m explaining reality.”
“Use kinder words.”
“There are no kind words for this.”
“Try harder.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
Then he stepped back.
Elena turned to Marcus.
“Dad, where are the records?”
Marcus looked at her.
Something in him broke.
“I never wanted you involved.”
“You involved me when you used your name on those warehouses.”
“I know.”
“Where are they?”
He lowered his voice.
“At your studio.”
Elena froze.
“What?”
“The Bellamy Institute.”
“Where?”
“In the back of one of the old frames.”
Adrian stared at him.
“You hid criminal evidence inside a seventeenth-century painting restoration studio?”
Marcus spread his hands weakly.
“Nobody searches paintings.”
Elena felt genuine outrage.
“Which frame?”
“The Flemish portrait.”
Her mouth fell open.
“The painting I’ve been restoring?”
Marcus nodded.
“You put documents inside a four-hundred-year-old frame?”
“They’re in plastic.”
Elena made a sound of disbelief.
Adrian almost smiled.
She turned on him.
“Do not.”
His expression became neutral.
“We need those records.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No.”
“That painting is under conservation protocol. Nobody touches it without me.”
“Your director can open it.”
“She will have a nervous breakdown if armed strangers appear demanding access to a seventeenth-century portrait.”
Adrian considered that.
“You’re coming.”
Vincent stared.
Elena smiled.
“I enjoy winning.”
“You didn’t win.”
“You changed your answer.”
“That’s called adapting.”
“That’s called losing gracefully.”
The Bellamy Institute was closed to visitors when they arrived.
Dr. Eleanor Bellamy opened the side entrance herself.
She was sixty-three, silver-haired, impeccably dressed, and capable of reducing graduate students to tears by asking how they intended to remove varnish.
She looked at Adrian.
Then his security team.
Then Elena.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean medically.”
“I haven’t slept.”
Dr. Bellamy looked at Adrian.
“Are you the reason?”
“Partially.”
“He is also technically our landlord,” Elena said.
Dr. Bellamy stared at him.
“You bought this building?”
“Six months ago.”
“Why?”
“Investment.”
“Hm.”
Dr. Bellamy clearly found him suspicious.
Elena adored her for it.
They entered the restoration laboratory.
The portrait waited beneath controlled lighting.
A solemn seventeenth-century woman stared from the canvas as though deeply disappointed in everyone.
Elena put on gloves.
“Dad said the documents are inside the rear frame channel.”
Adrian stood beside her.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m furious.”
“Different problem.”
“It affects precision either way.”
He lowered his voice.
“Then let Bellamy do it.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
She looked at him.
“This painting survived four centuries. My father has already abused it enough.”
Adrian held her gaze.
Then stepped back.
Elena carefully removed two retaining screws.
The wooden backing shifted.
Inside the hollow channel was a sealed plastic envelope.
Vincent exhaled.
Marcus had been telling the truth.
Elena handed the package to Adrian.
He opened it.
Shipping manifests.
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
Names.
Adrian’s expression hardened as he turned each page.
Then he stopped.
“What?”
He handed Elena a photograph.
Her stomach dropped.
It showed Senator Harrow standing beside Carlo Vescari and Captain Doyle.
Behind them were several shipping containers.
Elena looked at the date.
Three months earlier.
“This proves it?”
“Part.”
Adrian flipped through the bank records.
“Enough to start.”
A sound came from the front of the building.
Glass breaking.
Adrian’s head snapped up.
Vincent drew his gun.
Dr. Bellamy went pale.
“What was that?”
Adrian switched off the laboratory lights.
“Everyone down.”
Elena crouched beside the restoration table.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Multiple.
Fast.
Adrian moved toward the door.
Elena grabbed his sleeve.
He looked down.
“Don’t.”
His expression softened briefly.
“I’ll be back.”
“That is what people say before terrible things happen in movies.”
“This isn’t a movie.”
“That’s not comforting.”
He touched her hand once.
Then disappeared into the hallway.
Elena heard shouting.
A crash.
Running footsteps.
Then silence.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Two.
Elena couldn’t breathe.
Finally Adrian returned.
His shirt sleeve was torn.
Vincent followed.
“No one hurt,” Vincent said.
Elena stood.
“What happened?”
“Three men entered through the loading entrance,” Adrian said.
“And?”
“They left.”
“Voluntarily?”
Adrian looked at her.
“No.”
She decided not to ask.
Then Dr. Bellamy gasped.
Everyone turned.
A red laser dot moved across the wall.
Adrian’s eyes widened.
“Down!”
The window shattered.
Adrian threw himself over Elena as glass exploded across the laboratory.
Another shot struck the wall.
Security dragged Dr. Bellamy behind a cabinet.
Elena lay beneath Adrian, heart pounding.
His body shielded hers.
A thin line of blood appeared near his temple where glass had cut him.
“Adrian.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding again.”
“Apparently you’re hazardous to my face.”
Despite terror, she almost laughed.
The shooting stopped.
Vincent spoke into his radio.
“Shooter’s gone.”
Adrian slowly lifted himself.
His hand remained around Elena’s waist for a second longer than necessary.
Neither mentioned it.
He looked toward the shattered window.
Then toward the evidence.
His expression became cold.
“This ends now.”
Elena sat up.
“What are you going to do?”
Adrian looked at her.
“Buy us time.”
“How?”
He reached for his phone.
“By making everyone believe the evidence is somewhere they’ll never reach.”
Elena frowned.
“Where?”
Adrian’s dark eyes settled on hers.
“With me.”
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