Chapter 9 - THE BROTHER
Ethan Steves lived in London.
Officially.
Investment banking.
Rarely involved with the family organization.
At least that was what Larkin believed.
The photograph was six months old.
Manhattan.
Chelsea.
My fake apartment.
Ethan entering beside Thomas and Marissa.
Larkin stared at it longer than I expected.
“He hates Thomas.”
Daniel said:
“Apparently not enough.”
Larkin’s jaw tightened.
“What did Ethan want?”
Daniel shook his head.
“He never appeared in my records.”
Marissa did.
Thomas did.
Ethan did not.
That made him more dangerous.
We pulled corporate history.
Ethan owned twelve percent of Steves Holdings.
Larkin controlled forty-one.
Thomas twenty-three.
Other family members the rest.
If Larkin were removed and Thomas discredited later, Ethan could emerge as “clean” leadership.
Maybe Thomas’s coup had a second layer.
Then federal agents found another account.
P. Woods Consulting had transferred $6 million to an offshore fund controlled by Ethan.
My shell company financed him.
That was enough to connect.
Not enough to explain.
Then Larkin received a secure call.
Ethan.
He answered on speaker.
“Brother.”
Larkin’s voice was ice.
“Where are you?”
“Safe.”
“Wrong answer.”
Ethan laughed.
“You always did prefer location over motive.”
“Why is my secretary’s company funding you?”
I winced.
My secretary.
Still.
Ethan answered:
“Because Penelope was supposed to disappear before anyone noticed.”
The room went silent.
My stomach dropped.
“What does disappear mean?”
Larkin’s face changed.
Ethan continued:
“Relax. Thomas wanted prison.”
That was not relaxing.
“And you?”
“I wanted distance.”
“From what?”
“Your collapse.”
Larkin’s hand tightened around the phone.
Ethan explained.
For two years, he believed Larkin’s organization had become too exposed.
Too much violence.
Too many reckless partners.
He wanted the legitimate businesses separated before law enforcement destroyed everything.
Reasonable goal.
Terrible method.
He joined Thomas’s plan to create financial pressure.
But Thomas escalated.
Used my identity.
Stole Marconi funds.
Built criminal evidence.
Ethan kept pretending he could control him.
Classic.
Then Ethan said:
“I told Thomas not to use the girl.”
The girl.
I leaned toward the phone.
“I’m twenty-eight.”
Silence.
Then Ethan said:
“Penelope.”
Better.
“Did you know my identity was being used?”
“Eventually.”
“And you did nothing.”
“I was trying to contain it.”
I laughed.
Every powerful man’s favorite phrase.
Larkin heard it too.
His expression changed slightly.
Maybe he recognized himself.
Then Ethan said:
“Thomas has the master ledger.”
Daniel stood.
“What?”
“The Marconi ledger?”
“Not only Marconi.”
Ethan continued.
“Steves. Marconi. Cross. Harbor. political payments. Everything.”
Larkin’s face went pale.
One file could destroy half the room from the gala.
“Where is Thomas?”
“Trying to sell it.”
“To who?”
“A federal intermediary.”
That made no sense.
Unless Thomas wanted immunity.
Then Ethan said:
“He wants a deal.”
“For what?”
“To give them everyone.”
Larkin whispered:
“Including me.”
“Yes.”
Then Ethan added:
“And Penelope.”
My heart stopped.
“Why me?”
“Because he needs one criminal operator left beside him to make the story believable.”
May you like
Thomas wanted to become witness.
And I would become mastermind.
