Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO WASN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE
Arthur Costello entered his private study at six fifteen that morning.
His security chief, Gabriel Rourke, was waiting.
Gabriel had served the Costello family for sixteen years.
He was broad-shouldered, silver-haired, and careful with his words.
“You disappeared last night,” Gabriel said.
Arthur removed his ruined jacket.
“I needed air.”
“You were gone for three hours.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Are you keeping track?”
“Someone has to.”
Gabriel noticed the bandage beneath Arthur's shirt.
“What happened?”
“Broken glass.”
Gabriel didn't believe him.
But he said nothing.
Arthur poured coffee.
His hands trembled slightly.
He hated that.
He hated remembering the basement.
The small room.
The cheap blanket.
Norah's voice telling him to let go of her wrist.
He remembered crying.
Worse, he remembered how relieved he'd felt when she let him stay.
Gabriel watched him.
“Elias Varela is dead.”
Arthur's expression hardened.
“I know.”
“The men are asking questions.”
“Let them.”
Gabriel hesitated.
“His widow is claiming he wasn't stealing.”
Arthur froze.
“What?”
“She says the accounting records were altered.”
Arthur stared at him.
The man he'd killed had been his father's oldest associate.
Elias had taught him to shoot.
Had carried him home after his first street fight.
Had stood beside his father's coffin.
And Arthur had ordered his death because financial records suggested he'd been stealing from the ports.
Now someone was claiming the evidence had been fabricated.
Arthur slowly set down his coffee.
“Bring me the original records.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Boss—”
“Now.”
For the first time since the killing, Arthur allowed himself to consider the possibility that had been gnawing at him all night.
May you like
What if Elias had been innocent?
And what if someone had made Arthur kill him?
