Chapter 4 - THE CHILD WHO STOPPED SCREAMINGThe mansion locked down before midnight.
Her apartment.
Her brother's couch.
Maybe a rehabilitation center if the doctors insisted.
She had not imagined being driven through iron gates toward a thirty-million-dollar estate overlooking Long Island Sound while four black SUVs surrounded her vehicle.
“This is ridiculous.”
Adrian sat across from her inside the armored Mercedes.
“This is necessary.”
“There are men with rifles on the roof.”
“Yes.”
“Your gardeners look armed.”
“They are.”
Sarah turned toward him.
“Does your dentist carry a machine gun?”
“No.”
“Good. Nice to know there's a limit.”
Adrian's mouth almost moved.
She noticed.
“You nearly smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I assure you, I didn't.”
“Terrifying mafia billionaire caught experiencing emotion. Somebody call CNN.”
His gaze shifted toward her.
“Do you always talk this much?”
“When men kidnap me after announcing we're married? Apparently.”
“You signed the protection agreement.”
“I signed an agreement allowing me to recover somewhere secure.”
“This is somewhere secure.”
“This is Fort Knox with hydrangeas.”
The car stopped.
The mansion rose ahead of them in limestone, glass, and dark slate.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Protected by cameras Sarah could actually see and probably fifty more she couldn't.
Adrian came around and opened her door himself.
Sarah hesitated.
“You have people for that.”
“I know.”
She took his hand anyway.
Her legs were still weak.
He steadied her without comment.
The front doors opened.
A line of household staff waited inside.
Sarah stopped.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
Adrian frowned.
“What?”
“Why are they lined up?”
“To welcome you.”
“They look like they're waiting for an execution.”
Several staff members suddenly became very interested in the floor.
Adrian glanced at them.
“Dismissed.”
Everyone disappeared almost instantly.
Sarah blinked.
“You really are terrifying.”
“So I've been told.”
“By survivors?”
This time, he definitely smiled.
A woman's voice came from the staircase.
“Well.”
Sarah looked up.
A stunning brunette in a cream suit descended slowly.
She was perhaps fifty-five but carried herself like someone accustomed to commanding rooms.
“Apparently the rumors are true.”
Adrian stiffened.
“Mother.”
Sarah's eyebrows rose.
The woman approached.
“Vivienne Vale.”
“Sarah Miller.”
“I know.”
Vivienne examined her in uncomfortable silence.
Sarah fought the urge to straighten despite the pain.
Finally Vivienne said, “You saved my grandson.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sarah frowned.
“He was a child.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is to me.”
Something softened in Vivienne's face.
Then she embraced Sarah.
Carefully.
Briefly.
When she stepped away, her eyes were wet.
“My family owes you more than it can repay.”
Adrian looked uncomfortable.
Sarah noticed that too.
“Please don't say that.”
“Why?”
“Because your son already tried to repay me with a fake marriage and five million dollars.”
Vivienne slowly turned toward Adrian.
“A fake marriage?”
“Mother.”
“You announced a marriage without actually marrying her?”
“It was tactical.”
Vivienne stared at him.
“Your father is spinning so quickly in his grave we could connect him to the electrical grid.”
Sarah laughed.
Pain immediately punished her.
Adrian caught her elbow.
“Careful.”
Vivienne noticed the gesture.
So did Sarah.
She pulled away.
“I can walk.”
“Then walk.”
He was irritating.
Infuriating.
And strangely careful with her.
Ethan came racing around the corner.
“Sarah!”
Adrian caught him before he collided with her injuries.
“Slowly.”
Ethan stopped.
“Sorry.”
Sarah crouched as much as her side allowed.
“Hey, chocolate thief.”
“I wasn't stealing.”
“Potential chocolate thief.”
He grinned.
Then Sarah saw a bruise beneath his eye.
Her smile vanished.
“What happened?”
Ethan touched it.
“I fell.”
Adrian's expression became unreadable.
Sarah knew immediately the boy was lying.
“Ethan.”
The child looked away.
“Can Sarah see my room?”
“Later,” Adrian said.
“But—”
“Later.”
Ethan dropped his gaze.
Sarah watched him leave.
“What happened to his face?”
Adrian continued down the hallway.
“Adrian.”
“He fell.”
“No, he didn't.”
Adrian stopped.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he gestured toward a private study.
Inside, he shut the door.
“Ethan had a nightmare.”
“That caused a bruise?”
“He woke disoriented and ran into a dresser.”
Sarah's anger faded.
“How often?”
“Since the shooting? Every night.”
“Oh.”
“He screams that you're dead.”
Sarah felt something twist inside her.
Adrian moved toward the window.
“I've hired child psychologists.”
“Has he talked to them?”
“No.”
“Does he talk to you?”
His shoulders tightened.
“That wasn't an insult.”
“I know.”
“Then answer.”
“Not much.”
Sarah studied him.
“Maybe he's afraid you'll be disappointed.”
Adrian turned.
“In him?”
“You're not exactly warm.”
His expression darkened.
“You've known me for nine days.”
“And in those nine days I've seen your employees look like they need permission to breathe.”
“That is different.”
“Kids don't know that.”
He looked toward the garden where Ethan played beneath the supervision of two guards.
“I don't know how to do this.”
It was the first vulnerable sentence Sarah had heard from him.
She softened.
“You don't have to do it perfectly.”
“I can't afford mistakes.”
“You're his father, not his security system.”
The words hit.
Adrian stared through the glass.
Before he could answer, someone knocked.
His security chief, Mason Reed, entered.
Mason was in his forties, broad-shouldered, quiet, and one of the few men Sarah had seen speak to Adrian without visible fear.
“We traced the photograph found in Sarah's apartment.”
Adrian turned.
“And?”
“Printed at a pharmacy in Brooklyn.”
“Camera?”
“Masked buyer.”
“Payment?”
“Cash.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
Mason continued.
“But there's more.”
He placed a tablet on the desk.
Footage appeared.
A blurry figure entered Sarah's apartment building the night of the shooting.
Sarah leaned closer.
The man's face wasn't visible.
But something about his walk…
She froze.
“Play that again.”
Mason did.
Sarah watched.
A slight limp.
Left leg.
Then the man reached for the door.
On his wrist flashed a gold watch.
Her pulse accelerated.
“I've seen him.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Where?”
Sarah searched her memory.
The ballroom.
Employees rushing.
Guests screaming.
But earlier…
Before the shooting.
She saw herself carrying champagne through a service corridor.
A man arguing quietly with the shooter.
The same limp.
The same watch.
“I saw him at the Marlowe.”
“When?”
“Maybe forty minutes before everything happened.”
“Who was he with?”
Sarah looked at Adrian.
“The shooter.”
Mason swore.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Did you see his face?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
Sarah closed her eyes.
Voices.
A door.
A gold watch.
Then one sentence surfaced.
“He said something.”
“What?”
Sarah opened her eyes.
“He told the shooter, ‘The boy first.’”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“What else?”
Sarah's stomach turned.
“He said…”
Her voice dropped.
“‘The father will follow.’”
Silence.
Then an alarm screamed through the mansion.
Mason pulled his weapon.
Adrian pushed Sarah behind him.
“What is that?”
“West perimeter breach.”
Footsteps thundered outside.
Ethan screamed somewhere upstairs.
Sarah's blood went cold.
Adrian ran.
Sarah followed despite the pain.
They reached the hallway as a guard shouted from the staircase.
“Boss!”
“What?”
The guard held a small black box.
“This was found outside Ethan's bedroom.”
Adrian opened it.
Inside lay a single bullet.
And beneath it was a handwritten note.
May you like
YOU BROUGHT THE WAITRESS HOME.
NOW WE KNOW WHERE TO FIND BOTH OF THEM.
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