Four hours earlier, Emily Parker had stood between Victor Callaway and his armored SUV.

“Move.”

She hadn't.

Victor remembered every second now.

It had been 8:53 that morning.

Emily's hands were trembling, but her feet remained planted on the marble floor.

“Don't get in the car.”

The foyer had gone silent.

Victor's driver looked at her as though she had lost her mind.

Marcus Reed stepped forward.

“Emily, go back downstairs.”

She ignored him.

Victor studied her.

“Say that again.”

“There is a bomb under your SUV.”

Marcus laughed once.

“Boss, she's confused.”

Emily looked directly at Victor.

“No, I'm not.”

Marcus's smile disappeared.

Victor raised one tattooed hand.

Everyone became silent.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Emily glanced toward Marcus.

That tiny movement was enough.

Marcus noticed it too.

His face remained calm.

Victor said, “Answer me.”

“I heard two men in the garage.”

“What did they say?”

“That it was set for the second ignition cycle.”

Marcus stepped between them.

“Boss, we should get you out of the house.”

Emily immediately said, “Don't let him take you anywhere.”

Marcus turned.

“What did you say?”

Emily's voice shook.

“I heard you.”

The room froze.

Marcus stared at her.

Victor's expression became unreadable.

“Search the vehicle.”

Marcus protested.

“Victor—”

“Now.”

Seven minutes later, a security specialist returned.

His face told Victor everything before he spoke.

“She was right.”

Marcus was gone before anyone realized he had left the foyer.

By noon, every property connected to Marcus Reed was empty.

So was Emily's small employee room.

Victor had assumed she had fled.

Then Dominic entered the study carrying a folder.

“I pulled every internal security incident involving the mansion.”

Victor poured himself coffee.

“And?”

“You should sit down.”

“I am sitting.”

Dominic dropped the folder onto the desk.

The first report concerned a bottle of whiskey.

Three years earlier, Victor's favorite bottle had disappeared from his study.

A housekeeper claimed she had accidentally broken it.

The report contained two handwritten initials.

E.P.

The next involved his Bentley.

A mechanic had unexpectedly replaced a brake line hours before Victor drove to Milwaukee.

E.P.

Another concerned a hotel reservation canceled without Victor's permission.

That night, an armed intruder entered the suite Victor had originally reserved.

Again:

E.P.

Victor looked up.

“Emily?”

Dominic nodded.

“I called the mechanic.”

“What did he say?”

“A woman brought him photographs of the brake line and paid him cash to replace it before sunrise.”

Victor stared at him.

“Why didn't he report it?”

“She told him you had authorized it.”

“And the hotel?”

“She called pretending to be your assistant.”

Victor leaned back.

“How many?”

Dominic opened the folder wider.

“Seven incidents I can confirm.”

“Seven?”

“Possibly more.”

Victor's voice dropped.

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

Victor stood.

“Find her.”

Twenty minutes later, Dominic's phone rang.

A woman had been found unconscious near the Chicago River.

Her identification said Emily Parker.

That was when Victor ran.

Now, hours later, he stood outside her ICU room while the doctor adjusted the machines.

Finally, the alarms stopped.

The doctor came out.

Victor immediately approached.

“What happened?”

“Her blood pressure dropped.”

“And?”

“She's stable again.”

“When can I speak to her?”

“Not tonight.”

Victor's frustration showed.

“She may know who tried to kill both of us.”

“And she nearly died. You will speak to her when her body can handle it.”

Victor wasn't accustomed to being told no.

But he nodded.

“Fine.”

Dominic returned.

“The vault.”

Victor looked at him.

“Tell me.”

“Nothing appears stolen.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Someone opened it, went inside, and left.”

Victor took out the evidence bag.

“Unless they were looking for something that wasn't there.”

Dominic studied the key.

“Emily?”

Victor nodded.

The following morning, Emily woke.

Victor was sitting beside her bed.

Her eyes opened slowly.

She saw him.

Then panic crossed her face.

“Marcus?”

“Gone.”

She tried to sit up.

Victor stopped her.

“Easy.”

“You shouldn't be here.”

“That's becoming a common thing for you to tell me.”

She stared at him.

Victor held up the evidence bag.

“Where did you get this?”

Emily's eyes filled with fear.

“You need to leave Chicago.”

“No.”

“Victor—”

It was the first time she had ever used his first name.

He noticed.

“So you do know me.”

Emily looked away.

Victor leaned forward.

“For three years you've been preventing people from killing me.”

She said nothing.

“Poisoned whiskey.”

Her eyes closed.

“Brake line.”

Silence.

“Hotel suite.”

Emily whispered, “You found the reports.”

“I found enough.”

Victor placed the bag on the table.

“Now tell me why.”

Emily slowly looked at him.

“Because I made someone a promise.”

“Who?”

She stared at the key.

“Your mother.”

Victor froze.

“My mother died when I was seventeen.”

“No.”

Emily swallowed.

“She disappeared when you were seventeen.”

Victor stood.

“Don't play games with me.”

“I'm not.”

“You're telling me both of my dead parents aren't dead?”

Emily's voice became quieter.

“Your mother is dead.”

Victor's anger faded slightly.

“But before she died, she discovered what your father had become.”

“What does that mean?”

Emily looked toward the door.

“Close it.”

Victor did.

She waited.

Then she said:

“Your father didn't build the Callaway empire for you, Victor.”

“Then why?”

“He built it so one day he could take it back.”

---