He knew I was right.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You’re the one person Daniel wants Ryan to distrust more than anyone.”
Dad swore.
Then handed me a small phone.
“Security line.”
I took it.
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Come back.”
For once, my father sounded like a father rather than Vincent Hale.
“I will.”
I never reached the warehouse.
A black SUV struck our vehicle at an intersection.
The world exploded.
Metal screamed.
Glass shattered.
My head slammed sideways.
When I opened my eyes, smoke filled the car.
My security driver was unconscious.
The rear door opened.
A man grabbed my arm.
“Move.”
I kicked him.
He cursed.
Another man appeared.
Then gunfire cracked somewhere behind them.
Both men ducked.
A second vehicle skidded to a stop.
Dominic Russo emerged.
Ryan’s security chief.
Within seconds, the attackers fled.
Dominic pulled me from the wreck.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Boss is going to kill me.”
“What?”
“He told me to keep you at your father’s house.”
“Ryan doesn’t own me.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“I’ve told him that.”
“Where is he?”
“Still at the warehouse.”
“Take me there.”
“Absolutely not.”
I grabbed his jacket.
“Daniel Cross just tried to have me dragged from a wrecked car.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“That means whatever he’s telling Ryan right now matters.”
He hesitated.
Then opened the SUV door.
“I’m getting fired.”
“Probably.”
Ryan stood inside an abandoned freight terminal facing Daniel Cross.
I entered just as Daniel said:
“Vincent Hale murdered Marco Vescari.”
“No,” I said.
Ryan spun.
“Claire?”
His face transformed when he saw blood near my temple.
He crossed the warehouse in seconds.
“What happened?”
“Someone hit my car.”
Ryan’s expression became terrifying.
“Who?”
“Later.”
I looked at Daniel.
He was in his fifties, elegant, gray-haired, with the relaxed confidence of a man who believed he had already won.
Daniel smiled.
“Claire Hale Moretti.”
“Marco is alive.”
His smile disappeared.
Ryan froze.
“What?”
I looked at my husband.
“My father told me everything.”
“Claire.”
“Marco Vescari survived.”
Ryan stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t.”
Daniel recovered quickly.
“Vincent is lying.”
“Maybe.”
I looked at him.
“But you knew exactly where my car would be today.”
Ryan slowly turned toward Daniel.
Daniel’s expression tightened.
I continued.
“And someone tried to take me.”
Ryan’s entire posture changed.
“You touched my wife?”
Daniel smiled.
“I wasn’t anywhere near her.”
“You didn’t need to be.”
Ryan stepped forward.
Several men moved.
I grabbed Ryan’s arm.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Don’t give him what he wants.”
“He tried to take you.”
“And he wants you angry.”
Ryan’s jaw clenched.
“Claire.”
“Look at me.”
He did.
“Trust me once.”
The words hit both of us.
Trust.
The thing he had broken.
The thing Daniel had weaponized.
Ryan stepped back.
Daniel’s smile faded.
Then sirens sounded outside.
Daniel looked toward the doors.
My father had called federal investigators.
Daniel ran.
He escaped through a rear exit before agents entered.
But he left behind something far more valuable than himself.
His phone.
The phone contained messages.
Payments.
Photographs.
And a scheduled communication with someone identified only as M.V.
Marco Vescari.
Alive.
Within forty-eight hours, federal agents located him in Montana.
Chloe refused to believe it until she saw him.
Their reunion happened privately.
I was not there.
Ryan was.
When he returned home that night, he looked changed.
We were still separated.
I had moved into a Hale-owned apartment.
Ryan came only because I asked him to.
“Did she see him?”
“Yes.”
“How was it?”
“Ugly.”
I nodded.
“Seventeen years is a long time.”
“She hit him.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“Then hugged him.”
“That sounds about right.”
Ryan sat across from me.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “Daniel engineered the Denver trip.”
“How?”
“He sent the information about Marco through Chloe.”
“So he knew you’d bring her.”
“Yes.”
“He knew someone would photograph you.”
“Yes.”
“And he knew I was flying to Denver?”
Ryan looked at me.
“That part wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I laughed softly.
“The universe has a sense of humor.”
“Cruel humor.”
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“Claire, the threat was real. The surveillance was real. The performance on the plane was meant to bait whoever was following Chloe.”
“I know.”
“But none of that excuses the kiss.”
“No.”
“Or the lies.”
“No.”
“Or making you question yourself.”
My throat tightened.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I need you to know something.”
“What?”
“I didn’t cheat because I stopped loving you.”
“Ryan.”
“I cheated because for one selfish moment I liked being looked at by someone who didn’t expect anything from me.”
That hurt.
But it was honest.
“With you, I was always husband, partner, Moretti, protector.”
“And with Chloe?”
“Hero.”
He smiled bitterly.
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