Chapter 4 - THE BODYGUARD WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Victor Sloane had protected the Whitmore family for twenty-three years.
He had watched Grant grow from an angry teenager into the man Chicago feared.
And now my dead father had named him in a letter written twelve years earlier.
Grant stared at the paper.
“Victor.”
His security chief appeared in the doorway.
“Yes, sir?”
“Come inside.”
Victor noticed the letter.
His expression changed so quickly I almost missed it.
Almost.
“Where did you get that?”
Grant folded the paper.
“Answer a question first. Did you know Daniel Brooks?”
Victor remained silent.
Grant took one step forward.
“Did you know him?”
“Yes.”
My stomach twisted.
“Then why didn't you say anything?”
Victor looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something human beneath his controlled expression.
Guilt.
“Because I promised your father I wouldn't.”
The room went still.
Eleanor gripped her cane.
Victor continued.
“Daniel came to me three nights before he died. He said he'd uncovered a laundering operation involving three shipping companies, a private bank, and someone inside the Whitmore family.”
Grant's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
“I never learned the name.”
“Then why are you in his letter?”
“Because he gave me something.”
Victor reached inside his jacket.
Grant moved instantly, positioning himself between us.
Victor stopped.
“It's not a weapon.”
Slowly, he removed a brass key.
An old-fashioned key with a tiny rose engraved near the handle.
“He told me to keep this until Emily was ready.”
I stared at him.
“Ready for what?”
Victor's voice lowered.
“To find the truth.”
Anger surged through me.
“Twelve years. You had twelve years to tell me!”
“I know.”
“My mother died believing her husband was killed by a drunk driver!”
Victor looked away.
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because the last person who tried to expose the truth was murdered too.”
Grant stepped closer.
“Who?”
Victor swallowed.
“Your father's attorney.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
I remembered a name from my childhood.
Michael Keene.
He used to bring cookies to our studio and laugh when my father tried to teach him tango.
He disappeared a month after Dad's funeral.
My mother told us he'd moved to California.
“He was killed?” I whispered.
Victor nodded.
Grant's phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
His face changed.
“What is it?” Eleanor asked.
“Someone accessed the estate's security system.”
Victor stiffened.
“Impossible.”
Grant turned the phone around.
A live camera feed showed the underground garage.
Three black SUVs were parked beside the service elevator.
Armed men stood around them.
One held a photograph.
My photograph.
Then the camera shifted.
Vanessa Hale stepped out of the elevator.
She approached the men without hesitation.
And shook hands with their leader.
Grant watched in silence.
Then Vanessa looked directly into the security camera.
She smiled.
May you like
And mouthed five words.
“You should have married me.”
