Chapter 11 - The Father Behind the Curtain
The gunshot echoed.
Eleanor fell.
Bridget screamed.
But there was no blood.
The bullet had struck the wall beside Eleanor’s head.
Salvatore lowered the pistol.
“A warning.”
Dominique looked at his father with disgust.
“You nearly killed her.”
“If I wanted her dead, she would be.”
Eleanor stood.
“You always loved demonstrations.”
Salvatore looked at the samples in her hand.
“Give me those.”
“No.”
Gabriel stepped between them.
“Why?”
Salvatore’s expression hardened.
“Because they implicate me.”
Dominique laughed.
“Finally. An honest sentence.”
“They implicate me falsely.”
“Of course.”
Salvatore holstered the weapon.
“Adrian purchased Valence through companies registered in my name.”
Bridget folded her arms.
“Everyone keeps forging your signature, using your companies, and murdering your friends. You’ve had terrible luck.”
Salvatore looked at her.
“You sound like Thomas.”
“That is becoming less comforting.”
Eleanor held the sample box tighter.
“We take this to Grant.”
Salvatore shook his head.
“Grant is compromised.”
Bridget stared.
“What?”
“She has been feeding Adrian information.”
“No.”
“You think he found Bridget’s apartment by accident?”
Dominique looked at Bridget.
The failed surveillance.
Power cut.
Adrian knowing about the operation.
Grant’s people had been everywhere.
“She could have a leak.”
“She is the leak,” Salvatore said.
Eleanor disagreed.
“You have proof?”
Salvatore produced a phone.
A photograph showed Grant meeting Adrian.
Date stamped three weeks earlier.
Gabriel studied it.
“Could be official.”
“Then explain this.”
Audio played.
Grant’s voice.
“We move Costello on Thursday.”
Adrian.
“Where?”
Grant.
“I’ll send location once confirmed.”
Bridget’s stomach turned.
Dominique looked at Salvatore.
“Why didn’t you show us?”
“Because I needed to know who else she was working with.”
“And while you investigated, people kept dying.”
Salvatore’s jaw tightened.
That accusation hurt because it was true.
Eleanor said, “We cannot keep reacting. We need to force Vesper into the open.”
“How?”
Bridget asked.
Everyone looked at her.
She hated when rooms full of dangerous people suddenly expected her to solve things.
Then she realized something.
“They think we have the ledger.”
“We do,” Gabriel said.
“No. They think we have one copy.”
Dominique understood.
“You want to publish it.”
“Not exactly.”
Bridget looked at Salvatore.
“Vesper survives because members don’t know who will betray whom.”
“Yes.”
“So tell all of them the ledger will be released publicly at a specific time unless the leader comes forward.”
Eleanor nodded slowly.
“A dead-man release.”
“Even if we don’t actually publish.”
Salvatore smiled.
“Thomas would definitely have liked you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Sorry.”
Dominique looked at Bridget.
“They may call the bluff.”
“Then we make it real.”
The room went silent.
Gabriel said, “Those files contain judges. Police. Businesses. Some innocent family members.”
“We redact.”
“That takes days.”
“We have hours.”
Salvatore looked at Dominique.
“What do you think?”
Dominique looked at Bridget.
“I think she’s right.”
For once, Salvatore did not argue.
They moved to a secure office beneath one of Salvatore’s old warehouses.
Rafael assembled trusted technicians.
Eleanor secured the toxicology evidence.
Gabriel prepared defenses.
Dominique rested reluctantly.
Bridget sat beside him reviewing files.
At 3 a.m., he said, “You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I am.”
“Your eyes are open.”
“Technicality.”
She smiled.
Silence settled.
Then Dominique said, “I meant what I said.”
“About?”
“The reason I kept you.”
Bridget stopped typing.
“Dominique.”
“I knew who your father was three weeks after you started.”
“I remember.”
“I almost fired you.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I thought keeping you near me was dangerous.”
“That would have been ironic.”
“Yes.”
“What changed?”
“You yelled at me.”
She blinked.
“When?”
“You remember the red wine?”
Bridget did.
He had spilled a glass on a cream carpet during a late meeting.
Then one of his men had put a shoe directly on the stain.
Bridget had snapped, “If everybody in this house has enough money to own a watch worth my annual salary, somebody has enough sense to lift their damn feet.”
Dominique smiled at the memory.
“Everybody thought I’d fire you.”
“So did I.”
“I thought it was the first honest sentence anyone had said to me in months.”
Her chest tightened.
“You’re romanticizing housekeeping.”
“I’m romanticizing you.”
The words landed between them.
Bridget stared at him.
He did not look away.
“You nearly died yesterday.”
“I nearly died for six months.”
“This is a terrible time.”
“I agree.”
“Good.”
Neither moved.
Then Dominique leaned closer.
Slowly.
Giving her every chance to stop him.
Bridget’s heart hammered.
She touched his cheek.
And kissed him.
Gentle.
Brief.
Nothing like the dramatic collision she might have imagined.
That made it more dangerous.
When they separated, Dominique rested his forehead against hers.
“You should probably yell at me.”
“Later.”
A phone rang.
Gabriel entered.
“We have a response.”
Bridget stood.
“To the release threat?”
“Yes.”
“From who?”
Gabriel held out the phone.
Message:
MIDNIGHT. OLD COSTELLO CHAPEL. BRING THE LEDGER AND BRIDGET COLLINS.
Dominique’s face became cold.
“No.”
Bridget took the phone.
Under the message was a photograph.
A woman tied to a chair.
Evelyn Grant.
Blood on her face.
So Grant was not the leak.
Or not the only one.
Another message arrived.
SHE TALKED.
ASK HER WHO SOLD YOUR SAFE-HOUSE LOCATION.
Gabriel looked toward Rafael.
Nobody spoke.
Then Bridget noticed something.
The photograph had been taken inside the warehouse they were currently using.
She looked up.
“We’re not alone.”
From the hallway came three slow knocks.
A voice called through the locked door.
“Bridget?”
She recognized it.
May you like
Dr. Marcus Vale.
“I came to tell you who Vesper really is.”
