Victor moved Chloe and Tommy into the estate before midnight.
Chloe argued for twenty minutes.
Victor ignored every word.
“My apartment is fine.”
“No.”
“You can't just move us.”
“I already did.”
“That's kidnapping with better furniture.”
“You voluntarily got into the car.”
“Because you told me someone might be watching Tommy.”
“Exactly.”
“So stop acting smug.”
Victor turned from the security monitors.
“I am not smug.”
Marcus coughed.
Victor glared at him.
Marcus became fascinated with a wall.
Chloe crossed her arms.
“I want answers.”
“So do I.”
“Who accessed Tommy's records?”
“We're tracing it.”
“Why would anyone care?”
Victor didn't answer immediately.
Chloe understood.
“Because of you.”
“Yes.”
The word landed heavily.
She stared at him.
“This happened because people think I matter to you.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
Marcus quietly left.
Chloe continued.
“Do I?”
Victor looked at her.
The silence became unbearable.
“More than is convenient,” he finally said.
Chloe's breath caught.
Victor turned away first.
“Tommy will use the guest suite next to yours.”
“You're avoiding what you just said.”
“Yes.”
“Victor.”
“Tomorrow.”
“No.”
His eyes met hers.
For once, Chloe saw uncertainty.
Victor Russo could negotiate million-dollar contracts without blinking. He could walk into rooms filled with men who wanted him dead.
But this frightened him.
Her.
“I don't know what this is,” he said.
Chloe's anger softened.
“Neither do I.”
“I know I sleep when you're near me.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I hadn't slept five consecutive hours in years before that night.”
“Victor…”
“I know when you leave the house.”
Her heart beat faster.
“I know when you're worried because you clean things that are already clean. I know you pretend you're not hungry when you're saving money for Tommy.”
He stepped closer.
“And I know someone discovered enough of that to decide you might be useful against me.”
Chloe whispered, “That's terrifying.”
“Yes.”
“Not the danger.”
Victor frowned.
“The other part.”
For a second, neither moved.
Then Tommy appeared upstairs.
“Am I interrupting?”
Chloe jumped backward.
Victor closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Tommy grinned.
“Cool.”
“Go to bed,” Chloe said.
“It's Christmas.”
“Bed.”
Tommy disappeared.
Victor looked at her.
“Tomorrow.”
This time she allowed it.
Morning brought worse news.
The medical-record access had come through an account belonging to Russo Freight.
The employee whose credentials had been used was found unconscious in his apartment.
Alive, but unable to identify who attacked him.
Someone was sending Victor a message.
Marcus suspected Anthony Bellini.
Bellini had spent years trying to weaken Victor's control over the city's freight routes.
Victor had repeatedly refused partnership offers.
Now Bellini wanted leverage.
“Then give him what he wants,” Chloe said.
Victor stared at her.
They were in his study.
“No.”
“If this is about business—”
“It isn't that simple.”
“Make it simple.”
“Giving Bellini access would put hundreds of people under his control.”
“So?”
Victor's eyes hardened.
“So Bellini moves things I refuse to move.”
Chloe understood enough.
“Drugs?”
“Among other things.”
She looked away.
Victor continued.
“You asked why I don't simply give him what he wants. That's why.”
“You really refuse?”
“Yes.”
“But people say—”
“I know what people say.”
Victor walked toward the window.
“I inherited an empire built by men who believed power justified everything. I didn't build a clean life, Chloe. I'm not pretending I did.”
She remained silent.
“But there are lines.”
“And Bellini doesn't have them.”
“No.”
That afternoon, Tommy had a medical crisis.
His blood pressure crashed.
Chloe found him on the bathroom floor.
“Tommy!”
Victor heard her scream.
He reached the hallway before the guards.
Chloe was kneeling beside her brother.
“He won't wake up.”
Victor lifted Tommy.
“Car. Now.”
“No,” Marcus said. “Ambulance is safer medically.”
Victor nodded.
Within minutes, paramedics arrived.
Chloe rode with Tommy.
Victor followed.
At Northwestern Memorial, doctors rushed Tommy into treatment.
Chloe sat outside the room.
Victor remained beside her.
Hours passed.
At 3:00 a.m., Chloe whispered, “You can go.”
“No.”
“You have people waiting.”
“They can wait.”
“You hate hospitals.”
Victor looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“You've been staring at the exit for three hours.”
He almost smiled.
“My brother died in one.”
Chloe turned.
Victor had never spoken about Daniel.
“What happened?”
“He was shot.”
She didn't ask why.
“He was twenty-eight,” Victor continued. “I was twenty-three.”
“I'm sorry.”
“I promised my mother I'd get him out of the life.”
“You couldn't?”
“I waited too long.”
Victor looked toward Tommy's room.
“That's why I understand.”
Chloe reached for his hand.
This time, Victor didn't freeze.
He held hers.
At dawn, Tommy stabilized.
The specialist spoke to Chloe.
“He needs a transplant.”
“How long?”
“Impossible to predict.”
“Months?”
“Potentially longer.”
Chloe's face drained.
Victor asked, “What about living donation?”
The doctor explained compatibility testing.
Chloe immediately volunteered.
Two days later, testing revealed she wasn't compatible.
She cried in the hospital parking garage.
Not loudly.
Chloe rarely cried loudly.
Victor found her sitting inside his SUV.
“I was supposed to be the answer.”
“You're his sister.”
“I should match.”
“Biology doesn't care what should happen.”
She wiped her face angrily.
“I hate that sentence.”
“I know.”
“I've taken care of him since I was nineteen.”
“I know.”
“I gave up school. I worked every stupid job. I learned every medication. I fought insurance companies and doctors and landlords.”
Her voice cracked.
“And now the one thing he actually needs, I can't give him.”
Victor moved closer.
“You gave him five years.”
She looked at him.
“You gave him a home after yours disappeared. You kept him in school. You kept him laughing.”
Chloe cried harder.
Victor pulled her against him.
She rested her forehead against his chest.
He held her.
No agenda.
No bargain.
No fear.
Just held her.
Neither noticed the man standing at the far end of the parking structure taking photographs.
The images reached Anthony Bellini that evening.
Bellini smiled.
“So it's true.”
His associate looked over his shoulder.
“Russo has a woman.”
Bellini studied the photograph of Victor holding Chloe.
“No.”
He tapped Chloe's face.
“He has a weakness.”
The following week, Chloe received an envelope.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
Victor standing over a bloodied man in a warehouse.
The image was years old.
Written beneath it were six words.
ASK HIM WHAT HE REALLY IS.
Chloe stared at it until Victor entered.
“What happened?”
She handed him the photograph.
Victor's expression didn't change.
“Is it real?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“A man named Paul Carver.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Did you hurt him?”
Victor looked at her.
“Yes.”
Chloe stepped backward.
The movement hurt him more than he expected.
“Why?”
“He arranged the shooting that killed Daniel.”
“That doesn't make it right.”
“I didn't say it did.”
She stared at the photograph.
“Who sent this?”
“Bellini.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he wants you afraid of me.”
“Should I be?”
Victor didn't answer quickly enough.
Chloe's eyes filled.
“That's what I thought.”
She left.
Victor didn't stop her.
That night, she slept in the guest wing.
Victor returned to his bedroom.
For the first time since Chloe had arrived, it felt exactly as it had before.
Cold.
Silent.
Empty.
He didn't sleep.
At 1:47 a.m., his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Victor answered.
Bellini's voice came through.
“You always did have expensive taste.”
Victor's face became stone.
“If you touch her—”
Bellini laughed.
“There he is.”
Victor stood.
“You wanted my attention. You have it.”
“I want Pier 19.”
“No.”
“Then perhaps Miss Bennett should learn more about the man whose bed she's been warming.”
Victor's grip tightened.
“You misunderstand something, Anthony.”
“What?”
“My concern for Chloe is the only reason you're still breathing.”
Silence.
Victor continued quietly.
“If you make her your target, it stops being my weakness.”
His eyes turned cold.
“It becomes yours.”
He hung up.
Across the hall, Chloe stood barefoot in the darkness.
She had heard everything.
But what frightened her wasn't Victor's threat.
It was the realization that when Bellini implied she shared Victor's bed, Victor hadn't denied that she mattered.
Not once.
And somewhere between fear, exhaustion, and everything she'd learned about him, Chloe realized she didn't want him to.