Chapter 7 - THE SECRET DECLAN’S MOTHER LEFT BEHIND
Eleanor Voss had hidden the ledger before she died.
That was the truth waiting behind the painting.
Declan’s mother had discovered that Vincent and Patrick were moving money through illegal contracts, bribes, and offshore accounts.
But according to a letter found inside her old desk, Vincent had wanted out.
Patrick did not.
Eleanor wrote:
Vincent believes Patrick will let him leave quietly. I do not. I have hidden the account record somewhere Patrick will never destroy because he believes it valuable.
The painting.
A work worth nearly three million dollars.
Patrick would never burn it.
So Eleanor hid the evidence behind it.
Then cancer took her before she could expose anything.
Or that was what everyone believed.
Gavin found another medical anomaly.
Eleanor’s final chemotherapy records showed medication changes authorized by a physician connected to Patrick.
Declan stared at the file.
“No.”
I knew that word.
The word a person says when reality is too cruel to enter all at once.
“Declan.”
“No.”
He walked away.
I followed him into the hallway.
“Don’t.”
He turned sharply.
“What?”
“Don’t become stone.”
His eyes flashed.
“You don’t know what I’m becoming.”
“I know what you look like when you shut down.”
“You knew me for nine months.”
“Long enough.”
He laughed without humor.
“You ran away.”
“Yes.”
The words landed between us.
Then I stepped closer.
“And I am standing here now.”
His face changed.
I continued.
“I left because I thought you had chosen Savannah and intended to erase me. If I had heard the whole sentence, maybe I would have stayed long enough to demand the truth.”
“Maybe.”
“But you still lied.”
“Yes.”
“You still made decisions for me.”
“Yes.”
“You still thought power gave you the right to control danger around me.”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“And I would undo it if I could.”
For the first time, I believed he understood what had actually broken us.
Not Savannah.
Not the engagement.
Choice.
He had taken mine.
I reached for his hand.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But not rejection either.
His fingers closed carefully around mine.
Then my stomach moved.
A stronger flutter.
Declan froze.
I almost laughed.
“What?”
“The baby.”
His eyes dropped.
“Moved?”
“Yes.”
He stared at my belly as though I had announced a miracle.
“Can I?”
The question mattered.
Permission.
I nodded.
His hand touched my stomach.
Warm.
Gentle.
The baby moved again.
Declan stopped breathing.
Then something extraordinary happened.
His eyes filled.
Declan Voss, feared across Chicago, looked completely helpless.
“That was—”
“Yes.”
“Again.”
“I can’t order the baby.”
His mouth almost smiled.
Then the secure alarm sounded.
Gavin entered.
“We have Savannah’s location.”
“Where?”
“Old St. Agatha Church.”
The same church from the traffic footage.
“Patrick?”
“Inside.”
“Vincent?”
“Inside.”
Declan’s expression hardened.
“We move.”
I stood.
“You stay.”
I stared at him.
He sighed immediately.
“Wrong choice of words.”
“Very.”
He corrected himself.
“I want you here because Patrick expects you at the church, and I think that makes it the most dangerous place in Chicago for you.”
Better.
I considered it.
“Agreed.”
He blinked.
“You agreed?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
Then Gavin’s phone buzzed.
He opened a live drone feed from the church.
Patrick stood near the altar.
Savannah was tied to a chair.
Vincent sat several feet away.
Alive.
Older.
Thin.
Confused.
Then another figure entered frame.
I recognized him.
Dr. Samuel Kerr.
The physician who had treated Eleanor Voss before her death.
Declan’s face became murderous.
Gavin zoomed in.
Kerr handed Patrick a syringe.
Patrick looked toward Vincent.
My blood chilled.
“They’re going to kill him.”
Declan was already moving.
But before he reached the door, the live feed captured something else.
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Savannah broke one hand free.
And beneath her chair, she was holding a gun.
