Chapter 3 - The Traitor Inside Adrian’s Empire
Adrian did not react immediately.
That frightened Elena more than anger would have.
Men like Preston Hale performed fury because they needed people to know they had power.
Adrian Vale did not.
His silence made the people around him move.
“Marcus,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Lock down our people.”
Marcus hesitated for half a second.
“All of them?”
“All.”
The hesitation told Elena something.
Marcus did not like that order.
Adrian felt her hand shift.
“You noticed.”
“I notice hesitation.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“I hesitated because half our security staff are outside controlling evacuation.”
“I didn’t accuse you,” Elena replied.
“No, but you enjoyed making the point.”
“Not particularly.”
Adrian almost smiled.
Police and federal bomb technicians arrived within minutes.
Hotel guests were escorted outside through secured corridors.
By then, the story had already escaped.
Phones were everywhere.
Within half an hour, footage of Elena falling, Madison laughing, Elena confronting the room, and Adrian Vale standing beside her had begun circulating online.
But Elena knew viral humiliation was the least important thing happening.
The guard with the dragging step had vanished.
Adrian took Elena into a private library on the hotel’s executive floor.
Marcus joined them.
Two additional security men remained outside.
The door closed.
Adrian removed his jacket.
“You have five minutes to convince me I shouldn’t turn everything you told me over to federal investigators.”
Elena sat opposite him.
“You could.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because the person who sent me the warning knew details investigators don’t.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“What warning?”
Elena reached into her clutch.
She removed a tiny sealed pouch.
Inside was the gold shaving.
She placed it on the table.
Adrian did not touch it.
“This arrived at my apartment three weeks ago.”
“With what?”
“A photograph and a message.”
“What photograph?”
“I don’t know.”
Marcus looked at her.
“You didn’t have someone describe it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent the package expected me to do exactly that.”
Marcus frowned.
Elena explained.
“My apartment building has cameras. If I took it to someone, I risked exposing whoever helped me. Instead I ran my own tests on the metal shaving.”
“And?”
“Modern alloy. Similar composition to the statue.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“What did the message say?”
Elena paused.
“The eagle will kill Adrian Vale.”
Marcus swore quietly.
Adrian remained still.
“How was it written?”
“Braille.”
“Then the sender knew you.”
“Yes.”
“Or researched you.”
“Yes.”
“There’s more.”
Elena turned toward him.
Adrian said, “You’re still holding something back.”
For twenty-two years, Elena had avoided saying what came next to anyone connected to organized crime.
“My father died when I was eight.”
Adrian’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“How?”
“Officially? Home invasion.”
“Unofficially?”
“He worked customs enforcement at the Port of Chicago.”
Marcus looked sharply toward Adrian.
Elena continued.
“He had been investigating stolen antiquities coming through private cargo terminals. Three days before he died, he told my mother he had found evidence connecting legitimate art dealers, shipping companies, and a criminal group operating between Chicago and New York.”
Adrian’s voice became quieter.
“What group?”
“At the time, people called them the Black Crown.”
Marcus muttered, “That organization disappeared twenty years ago.”
“No,” Elena said. “The name disappeared.”
Silence.
“My father was killed before he could testify. I was inside the house.”
Adrian’s gaze settled on her clouded eyes.
“That’s how you lost your sight.”
Elena nodded.
She never liked discussing the details.
She remembered light.
A terrible flash.
Her father shouting.
Her mother pulling her toward the floor.
Then darkness that never ended.
But she remembered something else.
Her father’s hand.
Cold.
And the cuff link trapped between his fingers.
A broken crown.
“The same symbol appeared with the warning,” Elena said.
Adrian stood.
For the first time, his composure cracked.
Only slightly.
“My father used that symbol.”
Elena’s breath stopped.
Marcus looked at him.
“Adrian—”
“What?”
Adrian ignored Marcus.
“My father, Vittorio Vale, worked with the Black Crown before he built his own organization.”
Elena’s pulse jumped.
“Did he know my father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
“Then consider it a request from the woman who kept you from touching a bomb.”
Marcus almost laughed.
Adrian looked at him.
Marcus immediately stopped.
Adrian turned back to Elena.
“Fine.”
A knock sounded.
One of Adrian’s security officers entered.
“Bomb team confirmed the device was real.”
Elena remained silent.
“How bad?” Adrian asked.
“Enough to cause catastrophic casualties in the ballroom.”
“And the sculpture?”
“Fake.”
Adrian looked at Elena.
She had been right about everything.
The officer continued.
“There’s another problem.”
“What?”
“The guard assigned to the north stage corridor is missing.”
Elena sat straighter.
“Dragging left foot?”
The officer stared.
“Yes.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“Name?”
“Victor Sloane.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“That’s impossible.”
Elena turned toward him.
“Why?”
Marcus answered reluctantly.
“Victor has worked with us for nine years.”
“Which means he knew your security,” Elena said.
“He saved Adrian’s life twice.”
“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t betray him.”
Marcus slammed his palm against the table.
“You know nothing about him.”
Elena did not flinch.
“I know what explosive residue smells like.”
The room went silent.
Adrian stared at Marcus.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Marcus’s face went still.
“Nothing.”
Elena heard his pulse.
Fast.
Not proof.
But interesting.
Adrian dismissed everyone except Elena.
When the door closed, he walked to the window.
“You realize what you’ve done tonight.”
“I embarrassed Madison Crowe?”
He turned.
“Half Chicago now knows someone tried to kill me.”
“Half Chicago already assumed people wanted to kill you.”
“You’re not afraid of me.”
“That disappoints you?”
“It confuses me.”
Elena considered him.
“I’m afraid of things I can’t understand.”
“You understand me?”
“No. But you’re predictable.”
Adrian laughed once.
“What am I going to do?”
“Protect your empire.”
“And you?”
“Find the person who sent that package.”
“Why?”
“Because they know what happened to my father.”
Adrian approached.
“And if solving that mystery puts you in the middle of a war?”
Elena rose.
“I’ve been in the middle of it since I was eight. I just didn’t know the names of the people fighting.”
Before Adrian could answer, his phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
A pause.
“When?”
Another pause.
Then he looked at Elena.
“Victor Sloane’s car was found under the Lake Street bridge.”
“Was he inside?”
“No.”
“What was?”
Adrian ended the call.
“His phone.”
“And?”
“A photograph.”
Elena’s throat tightened.
Adrian continued.
“Of you entering the gala.”
The room seemed colder.
“That doesn’t prove he was following me.”
“No.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“But the words written across the photograph might.”
Elena waited.
Adrian’s voice became low.
“Finish what her father started.”
For the first time that night, Elena felt genuinely afraid.
Because the gala had not brought her into Adrian Vale’s world.
Someone had been waiting for her to enter it.
May you like
And whoever that person was had known exactly which old wound would make Elena stay.
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