Chapter 9 - THE NIGHT THE CITY TURNED AGAINST HIM
The first threat arrived at Adrian's office.
A plain envelope.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph of me leaving Elena's building.
On the back, someone had written:
STOP DIGGING.
Adrian called immediately.
I answered.
“What?”
“Evelyn, someone is watching you.”
I went still.
“How do you know?”
He explained.
I looked toward my apartment window.
“Did you tell the police?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A pause.
Then Adrian said, “I can arrange security.”
I hesitated.
“Not without my permission.”
“I know.”
I was quiet.
Then said, “Have Elena coordinate it with me.”
“Of course.”
That evening, Daniel flew to Chicago.
He arrived carrying a suitcase and a folder of project documents.
When I opened the hotel door, he looked at me.
“You look terrible.”
I laughed.
“Thank you.”
He hugged me.
I held on longer than I expected.
Daniel had been my business partner for five years.
He was forty, divorced, and had a teenage daughter named Sophie.
He had helped me build the company.
He knew how hard I worked.
How much I hated being pitied.
And how rarely I asked for help.
He stepped back.
“Tell me everything.”
So I did.
Daniel listened.
Then said, “You don't have to finish the Chicago contract.”
I shook my head.
“I know.”
“Then why stay?”
I looked toward the window.
“Because Lily is missing.”
He nodded.
“And because your father deserves the truth.”
“Yes.”
Daniel sat beside me.
“Then I'm staying until you're ready to leave.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
The next morning, Adrian saw Daniel leaving my hotel.
His expression changed.
I noticed immediately.
“Don't.”
Adrian looked at me.
“What?”
“Whatever you're thinking.”
He glanced toward Daniel.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
I stared.
Then laughed.
Seven years.
A missing sister.
A possible murder.
And Adrian was jealous.
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
I narrowed my eyes.
“And if he were?”
Adrian looked down.
“You'd have every right.”
I studied him.
“Good answer.”
That afternoon, Victor Sloane contacted Elena.
He wanted to meet.
He claimed he had evidence that could identify who ordered my father's death.
But he demanded one condition.
Adrian Moretti could not attend.
I agreed.
The meeting was scheduled for the following morning.
Then, at midnight, my phone rang.
An unfamiliar voice spoke.
“Evelyn Carter?”
“Yes?”
“Your sister is alive.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is she?”
The man laughed softly.
“Come to the old Moretti warehouse tomorrow night.”
I gripped the phone.
“Who are you?”
A pause.
Then he said, “Someone your father trusted.”
May you like
The call ended.
And I knew the next twenty-four hours would change everything.
