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At 6:03 the next morning, Harper became a criminal mastermind.
At least according to television.
Emily walked into the kitchen holding her phone.
“You’re trending.”
Harper looked up from her coffee.
“That sentence has never improved my life.”
Gabriel stood at the counter in shirtsleeves.
“Why?”
Emily turned the screen.
A video clip played.
NEWS ALERT.
Questions Surround Monroe House Foundation After Federal Prosecutor’s Wife Vanishes.
Harper stopped.
On television, a reporter stood outside Michael Donovan’s home.
“Sources close to the Donovan family say Claire Donovan may have been influenced by individuals connected to organized crime…”
Gabriel set down his coffee.
Very carefully.
Harper listened.
The reporter continued.
“…particularly Harper Rossi, wife of Chicago businessman Gabriel Rossi, whose name has long been associated with—”
Harper muted the screen.
“No.”
Emily frowned.
“No?”
“We’re not starting the day with television calling my husband a businessman.”
Gabriel looked offended.
“I own businesses.”
“You also know where bodies are buried.”
Dominic entered carrying a briefcase.
“That is not a sentence I enjoy hearing casually.”
Harper pointed toward the television.
“You knew?”
Dominic nodded.
“Michael held a press conference twenty minutes ago.”
“Of course he did.”
“He says Claire is experiencing a mental-health crisis.”
Harper went still.
Emily’s face hardened.
Gabriel said nothing.
Dominic continued.
“He says Ben was taken from his home under coercive circumstances.”
Harper stood.
“Taken?”
“His word.”
“Claire carried him out.”
“I know.”
“He is calling his abused wife unstable.”
“Yes.”
“He is calling Monroe House kidnappers.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Dominic sighed.
“And Senator Harlan released a statement asking for his daughter and grandson to be returned to their family.”
Claire stood in the doorway.
Nobody had heard her enter.
Her face was white.
“He knows.”
Harper walked toward her.
Claire held a borrowed sweater closed around herself.
“My father knows where I am.”
“We don’t know that.”
“He always knows.”
Harper stopped.
Claire laughed bitterly.
“I used to think that meant he cared.”
Gabriel glanced toward Dominic.
“Can Michael legally force Ben’s return?”
“Not immediately.”
“What about emergency custody?”
“He’ll try.”
Claire whispered, “He told me.”
Dominic turned.
“What?”
“He said a judge would call me unstable.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
Harper knew that look.
Legal anger.
Possibly more dangerous than Gabriel’s ordinary anger.
“Not while I’m breathing.”
Claire stared.
Dominic adjusted his cuff.
“I apologize. That sounded melodramatic.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“It was acceptable.”
“Thank you.”
Harper almost smiled.
Then her phone began ringing.
Unknown number.
Then another.
Then Emily’s.
Then the office line.
Emily looked at her screen.
“Press.”
Harper frowned.
“How did they get my personal number?”
Gabriel’s eyes hardened.
“The leak is deliberate.”
Within an hour, Monroe House’s social media pages filled with accusations.
Kidnapping.
Money laundering.
Mafia shelter.
Political interference.
A photograph appeared online showing Harper beside Gabriel outside the Velvet Onyx years earlier.
Then another.
Gabriel entering the Monroe House public office.
Another.
Marco.
Dominic.
Each image became part of the same narrative.
The shelter was supposedly a front.
Harper supposedly targeted vulnerable women to damage political enemies.
It would have been ridiculous if it were not spreading so quickly.
By ten, two corporate donors paused funding.
By eleven, a partner hospital called requesting clarification.
At eleven twenty, a woman scheduled to enter emergency housing canceled.
That was the moment Harper became truly angry.
Not when they attacked her.
Not Gabriel.
Not the foundation’s reputation.
A frightened woman had chosen to stay with someone dangerous because television made Monroe House look unsafe.
Harper stood in the conference room staring at the cancellation email.
Emily entered.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Harper looked at her.
“Why good?”
“Because you’re less scary when you admit it.”
Harper closed the laptop.
“We answer publicly.”
Emily nodded.
“How?”
“Not by discussing Claire.”
“Obviously.”
“Not by defending Gabriel.”
Gabriel appeared in the doorway.
“I object.”
Harper ignored him.
“Not by attacking Michael.”
Gabriel objected again.
“Strongly.”
“We explain what Monroe House does.”
Emily understood.
“Keep the focus on survivors.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel folded his arms.
“They’re using my name because it scares donors.”
Harper looked at him.
“I know.”
“I can make calls.”
“No.”
“I know people.”
“That is literally the problem.”
His jaw tightened.
She stepped closer.
“If powerful men start calling donors to reassure them that Gabriel Rossi is safe, we have failed spectacularly.”
Dominic entered behind him.
“She’s right.”
Gabriel turned.
“Traitor.”
“Frequently.”
Harper touched Gabriel’s arm.
“This one is mine.”
His expression changed.
Not hurt.
Something more complicated.
Harper knew what he was thinking.
Protection.
Control.
Choice.
The old triangle.
“I’m not shutting you out.”
“I know.”
“I need Monroe House to survive without your shadow.”
“I know.”
“And?”
He exhaled.
“I hate it.”
She smiled.
“That’s allowed.”
At noon, Harper stood before six cameras.
No Gabriel.
No Dominic.
Emily watched from behind the press line.
Harper wore navy.
No dramatic red.
No expensive jewelry.
No wedding ring hidden either.
She refused to pretend Gabriel was not her husband.
She simply would not let the questions become about him.
A reporter shouted first.
“Mrs. Rossi, did you assist Claire Donovan in leaving her husband?”
Harper looked directly at the camera.
“Monroe House does not comment on whether any specific person receives services.”
“Did you kidnap her son?”
“No.”
“Is Claire mentally unstable?”
Harper’s eyes hardened.
“I will not discuss any individual survivor’s medical or psychological condition.”
“Michael Donovan says—”
“Michael Donovan can speak for himself.”
“Are you using the foundation to attack political figures?”
“No.”
“Does Gabriel Rossi fund Monroe House?”
“We receive private donations from many sources under legal nonprofit disclosure requirements.”
“Does he influence operations?”
“No.”
“Has he ever been involved in security?”
Harper paused.
Truth.
“Yes.”
Cameras erupted.
Emily closed her eyes.
Harper continued.
“So have former law enforcement officers, security professionals, survivors, attorneys, social workers, physicians, and mothers who know exactly where an abuser will look first.”
The room quieted slightly.
Harper stepped closer to the microphone.
“Monroe House exists because leaving violence is dangerous.”
Her voice remained steady.
“It is dangerous whether the person hurting you is unemployed or wealthy. Unknown or famous. A private citizen or a public official.”
A reporter raised his hand.
“Are you accusing Michael Donovan of domestic violence?”
“I am saying no person’s title should prevent allegations from being investigated fairly.”
Another voice.
“Your husband has a violent reputation. Isn’t that hypocritical?”
Harper paused.
That question would follow her forever.
She had accepted that when she married Gabriel.
“My husband is responsible for his choices.”
Somewhere off camera, Gabriel was probably hating every second.
“So am I.”
Harper continued.
“Monroe House is responsible for ours.”
She looked across the reporters.
“If you want to investigate our finances, do it.”
Emily smiled faintly.
“If you want to inspect our licenses, do it.”
Dominic, watching on television, probably stopped breathing.
“If you want to speak to the agencies that audit us, do it.”
Harper leaned toward the microphone.
“But do not tell frightened women that asking for help makes them criminals.”
Silence.
“That is how abuse survives.”
Then Harper stepped away.
She did not answer another question.
Gabriel waited inside the building.
He looked at her for a long moment.
“What?”
“You told the media to investigate our finances.”
“Our finances are clean.”
“Yes.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“You are.”
“I prefer people investigate someone else.”
Harper kissed his cheek.
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
Then Marco entered.
His expression destroyed the moment.
“Robert Voss is dead.”
Gabriel’s face changed.
Harper stepped back.
“How?”
“Car explosion.”
Silence.
“Accident?” Emily asked.
Marco shook his head.
“Bomb.”
Gabriel looked toward Harper.
“Whoever is controlling this just removed a loose end.”
Harper thought of Nolan.
Michael.
Senator Harlan.
Rachel.
Then Marco held up his phone.
“There’s more.”
A video had been posted online three minutes earlier.
Robert Voss.
Alive when recorded.
Sitting in a dark room.
He stared directly into the camera.
Harper pressed play.
Voss spoke.
“If you’re watching this, Gabriel Rossi has killed me.”
Harper’s blood turned cold.
The video continued.
“And Harper Rossi knows why.”