The federal agents wanted Noah moved again.
I refused.
Damian agreed with me.
For once.
“Transport creates exposure,” he told them. “This property is controlled.”
One agent looked around Damian’s security room.
“You’ve got more cameras than some federal buildings.”
Damian didn’t smile.
“I’ve had reasons.”
Rebecca’s story arrived through investigators shortly after sunset.
Her real name was Rebecca Sloan after all.
That surprised me.
What she had lied about was why she came to St. Catherine’s.
Voss had hired her months earlier to monitor Noah.
At first, she claimed she believed she was merely tracking the recovery of a potential witness in a civil case.
Then Noah remembered the truck.
Voss ordered her to destroy the therapy report.
She did.
When Noah remembered Adrian’s face, Voss changed the order.
Take him.
Rebecca panicked.
She had spent months helping care for Noah.
He wasn’t a file anymore.
He was a person.
A funny, stubborn young man trapped inside an injured brain.
So she deliberately delayed the first kidnapping attempt.
She had warned Damian’s security anonymously.
The fire was not hers.
Voss had sent another team after realizing she had turned against him.
I didn’t forgive her.
Not yet.
But I understood.
At 10:14 p.m., the estate lost power.
Emergency generators activated instantly.
Vincent’s voice came through Damian’s radio.
“Perimeter breach.”
My blood froze.
Damian grabbed my hand.
“Safe room.”
“Noah.”
“Already moving.”
We ran.
Two security men wheeled Noah from the library.
A crash sounded somewhere outside.
Then another.
Not gunfire.
Vehicles hitting the gate.
Damian pushed us toward a concealed door behind the wine cellar.
“Inside.”
I grabbed his arm.
“You’re coming.”
“I need to coordinate security.”
“Vincent can do that.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
His eyes locked on mine.
I understood suddenly why he hated that word when I used it.
“Your sister died because your family thought security could handle everything,” I said. “You told me loving someone doesn’t mean you can prevent every terrible thing.”
His jaw tightened.
“So don’t walk away from me now pretending you’re invincible.”
Something broke through his expression.
He stepped inside.
The door sealed.
The safe room was surprisingly plain.
Monitors.
Medical supplies.
Food.
Communication equipment.
Noah sat in a reinforced chair, breathing hard.
I knelt beside him.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
Damian watched the cameras.
Three vehicles had breached the outer gate.
Police were already responding.
Then Vincent’s voice came through.
“Boss, they’re not trying to enter the house.”
Damian frowned.
“What?”
“They’re drawing security east.”
Damian’s face changed.
“West service entrance.”
A camera went black.
Then another.
Someone knew the estate.
The leak hadn’t ended with Elliot.
“There’s another traitor,” I whispered.
Damian looked at me.
“Yes.”
A third camera died.
Then we saw him.
Adrian Voss.
Gray coat.
Silver hair.
Walking calmly through a corridor as though he owned the place.
Beside him was one of Damian’s longtime security supervisors.
Peter Hale.
Damian stared at the screen.
“Hale.”
Betrayal flashed across his face.
He had trusted that man.
Hale knew the safe room.
Vincent’s voice exploded through the radio.
“Boss, move! Hale has override access.”
Damian grabbed Noah’s chair.
“Secondary exit.”
A red light appeared above the safe-room door.
Someone was entering the code.
We moved through a narrow service passage.
The door behind us opened.
Footsteps followed.
Noah struggled to breathe.
“Keep moving,” I whispered.
We reached a stairwell.
Damian looked up.
“Garage is two levels down.”
We descended.
Halfway there, Noah grabbed my sleeve.
“Em.”
“What?”
He pointed upward.
A sound.
Footsteps coming from below too.
Trapped.
Damian pushed open a maintenance door.
We entered a mechanical room.
He locked it.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then a voice came through the other side.
“Damian.”
Voss.
“Give me the drive.”
Damian looked at me.
I had hidden the real flash drive hours earlier.
Federal investigators already had copies.
Voss didn’t know that.
“You’re finished, Adrian,” Damian called.
Voss laughed.
“You think the government saves people?”
“No. Evidence does.”
“You don’t have evidence without that drive.”
Damian looked at me.
I understood.
He wanted Voss talking.
A recording indicator blinked on his phone.
Voss continued.
“Carter should have handed it over when I gave him the chance.”
My heart stopped.
Damian’s eyes sharpened.
“You mean before you killed him?”
Silence.
Then Voss laughed again.
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Your truck forced their car off the highway.”
“He should have stopped running.”
Noah made a broken sound.
I grabbed his hand.
Voss heard it.
“So the boy remembers.”
My stomach twisted.
“That’s unfortunate.”
Rage surged through me.
I moved toward the door.
Damian caught me.
“Don’t.”
Voss continued.
“Your father had one opportunity, Emily.”
Hearing my name from him made my skin crawl.
“He could have handed over the evidence. Instead, he drove onto an icy highway with his family.”
“You followed them.”
“He made his choice.”
“No,” I shouted. “You made yours.”
Silence.
Then Voss said, “Give me the drive, and you can walk out.”
Damian almost smiled.
“You really believe she trusts you?”
“I believe she understands leverage.”
“You don’t understand Emily at all.”
My eyes met Damian’s.
“No,” Voss said. “But I understand you.”
Another pause.
“You’re in love with her.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Even now, even there, the words struck like lightning.
Damian’s expression did not change.
Voss laughed softly.
“That’s why you’re predictable.”
Damian looked at me.
Then he said, “You’re wrong.”
Something inside me fell.
But he continued.
“I was predictable before her.”
His hand found mine.
“She made me reconsider what I’m willing to become.”
My breath caught.
Sirens sounded outside.
Voss cursed.
Damian smiled.
“That would be the federal tactical team.”
Footsteps moved rapidly outside.
Then shouting.
The next thirty seconds blurred.
Commands.
A crash.
Someone yelling to get down.
Damian pulled me and Noah behind heavy machinery.
Then Vincent’s voice came through.
“Clear!”
Damian opened the door cautiously.
Federal agents filled the corridor.
Peter Hale was on the floor in handcuffs.
Adrian Voss stood against the wall, furious, wrists restrained.
His eyes found Noah.
Then me.
“You think this ends anything?”
I stepped toward him.
Damian didn’t stop me.
“My father tried to expose you.”
Voss smiled coldly.
“And look where that got him.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead, I smiled.
That confused him.
“You made one mistake.”
“What?”
“You thought Dad only made one copy.”
His face changed.
I continued.
“The FBI has everything.”
Color drained from his face.
“Bank records. Shipping manifests. Audio files. Photographs.”
Damian stepped beside me.
“And your confession from five minutes ago.”
Voss stared at us.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
Agents led him away.
Noah watched.
His hand trembled.
I knelt beside him.
“It’s over.”
He looked at me.
Then Damian.
Slowly, painfully, Noah spoke.
“Good… boss.”
Damian blinked.
I laughed through tears.
“Apparently he likes you now.”
Damian crouched beside him.
“That took longer than expected.”
Noah smiled.
A real smile.
Then he looked between us.
His eyebrow lifted.
I knew that expression.
“No.”
He lifted it higher.
“Absolutely not.”
Damian looked confused.
“What is he saying?”
“Nothing.”
Noah pointed at Damian.
Then me.
Then put two fingers together.
Damian understood.
For the first time since I had known him, Chicago’s most intimidating billionaire looked genuinely caught off guard.
“Noah,” I warned.
My brother laughed.
It came out rough and uneven.
But it was laughter.
And it was the most beautiful sound I had heard in a year.