Chapter 3 - The Brother’s Betrayal
"Get up," I told Grace, my voice unnervingly calm now, the kind of cold stillness that precedes a hurricane.
Grace scrambled to her feet, pulling Amara against her hip. "Mr. Hale... what are you going to do?"
"What I should have done two years ago," I said, walking over to the mahogany sideboard where my encrypted satellite phone sat. I picked it up and punched in a direct, high-priority frequency. "Marcus? I need every available unit at the North End docks within twenty minutes. Block every exit. Nobody leaves alive unless I say so."
"Sir?" Marcus’s voice came back through the receiver, crisp and instantly alert. "Is there a breach?"
"My brother is the breach," I replied, my eyes fixed on the small photograph in the locket. "And tonight, we clean house."
I turned back to Grace. She looked terrified, clutching Amara so tightly the little girl began to squirm.
"You knew all of this," I said, stepping closer to her. "You knew Vincent was keeping her, yet you came into my house as a housekeeper. Why?"
"Because Elena couldn't get close to her!" Grace confessed, tears spilling anew. "Vincent keeps Chloe locked inside the East Wing of his coastal estate under heavy guard. She doesn't even know her real name—she calls him 'Uncle Vinnie,' but she’s terrified of him. Elena smuggled me into your household six months ago because she knew you were the only man in this city powerful enough to tear Vincent’s fortress down. But I... I couldn't find the right moment to tell you. Vincent threatened to kill Amara if I breathed a word."
I looked down at Amara, who was staring up at me with those big, innocent eyes, completely unaware that her little act of kindness—asking to share a lonely man's dinner—had just blown the lid off a two-year conspiracy.
"Your mother is a brave woman, Amara," I said softly, reaching out to gently touch the little girl's dark curls. Then I looked at Grace. "Lock yourselves in the master panic room upstairs. Do not open the door for anyone except me or Marcus. If anyone else knocks, shoot through the wood."
Grace nodded frantically, scooping Amara up and running toward the grand staircase.
May you like
I turned to my two guards, who stood rigid by the double doors, having absorbed every word of the confession.
"Load your weapons," I ordered, sliding my custom Sig Sauer into my shoulder holster. "We’re going to family dinner."
