Chapter 13 - THE MAN WAITING FOR CLAIRE
Claire walked into Mercer Hospitality headquarters at 8:00 A.M.
Vincent hated the plan.
Naturally.
But this time, he didn’t forbid her.
He said:
“What do you need from me?”
That difference mattered.
Claire answered:
“Stay close. Don’t interfere unless I ask.”
Vincent nodded.
“Okay.”
She almost didn’t recognize him.
Evan stood beside the conference room window.
“You look tired.”
Claire closed the door.
“I was busy rescuing my ex-husband.”
Evan’s face barely changed.
Too controlled.
Claire placed his messages with Anthony on the table.
“What is Phase Two?”
Evan stared.
Then sighed.
“I hoped you wouldn’t find that.”
“Answer me.”
He walked toward the window.
“I didn’t work for Anthony.”
“You exchanged messages with him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was investigating him.”
Claire laughed coldly.
“Everyone in my life is apparently secretly investigating everyone else.”
Evan almost smiled.
“I deserve that.”
“Prove it.”
He opened a locked drawer.
Inside were federal credentials.
Claire stared.
“You’re FBI?”
“Formerly.”
“Formerly?”
“Special financial task force.”
He explained.
Mercer Hospitality was real.
So was his position.
But for two years, he had cooperated with federal investigators tracing Anthony’s investments.
Claire’s employment had been deliberate.
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes hardened.
“To get close to Vincent?”
“Initially.”
Claire stood.
Evan raised a hand.
“Wait.”
“No.”
“I didn’t know about Price. I didn’t know Anthony engineered the divorce.”
“You knew enough.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Because Anthony monitored my communications.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Another man protecting me with secrets.”
Evan lowered his head.
“That’s fair.”
She headed for the door.
“Claire.”
She stopped.
“There’s one reason you should stay.”
“What?”
“Anthony wasn’t the highest person in the network.”
Claire slowly turned.
Evan activated a screen.
Financial transfers appeared.
A larger organization.
Politicians.
Judges.
Corporate executives.
Shipping brokers.
And one unnamed controller.
CROWN.
The symbol Henry discovered.
Claire frowned.
“Who is Crown?”
“We didn’t know.”
“Did?”
Evan displayed a photograph.
The person walking into a private club was a woman.
Elegant.
Older.
Claire recognized her.
Vincent’s mother.
Elena Moretti.
Claire stared.
“No.”
Evan nodded.
“The accounts trace back to her.”
Claire shook her head.
“She was manipulated by Price.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Claire, Elena inherited accounts from her husband after his death.”
Vincent’s father, Dominic Moretti.
Dead seven years.
Evan continued.
“Crown existed before Anthony.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“Then Elena may not know.”
“That’s possible.”
“Or?”
“She could be running everything.”
Claire immediately called Vincent.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
She called Marco.
He answered breathlessly.
“Claire.”
“Where is Vincent?”
A pause.
“At his mother’s house.”
Claire’s blood went cold.
“Why?”
“Elena called him.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“What did she say?”
Marco hesitated.
“She said she needed to confess something about Dominic.”
Claire grabbed her coat.
Meanwhile, Vincent entered his childhood home.
Elena sat beside the fireplace.
A photograph of Dominic rested in her lap.
“Mom?”
She looked up.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Vincent’s stomach tightened.
“For what?”
“For letting you blame yourself all these years.”
“What are you talking about?”
Elena handed him a letter.
Dominic’s handwriting.
Vincent read.
Then read again.
His father had not died of a heart attack.
Dominic had been poisoned.
By Anthony Russo.
And Elena had spent seven years secretly funding an organization designed to identify every person involved.
Vincent looked up.
“You’re Crown?”
Elena nodded.
“Yes.”
His face hardened.
“You built a criminal intelligence network?”
“I built a trap.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Anthony already had Price near you.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Another secret.
Elena whispered:
“But Anthony wasn’t the person who ordered your father killed.”
Vincent looked up.
“Who did?”
Elena handed him a photograph.
A younger Dominic stood beside Henry Bennett.
And between them was a man Claire knew very well.
Evan Mercer’s father.
Richard Mercer.
Elena whispered:
May you like
“Richard Mercer started everything.”
Then the front window exploded.
