Chapter 7 - THE MAN AT ADRIAN'S RIGHT HAND
Adrian did not speak for almost twenty minutes.
That frightened me.
Anger I understood.
Silence from Adrian Vale felt dangerous.
Finally, somewhere south of Milwaukee, he said:
“Vincent raised me after my father died.”
Rebecca sat behind us.
“I know.”
“He taught me to drive.”
“I know.”
“He carried Michael’s coffin.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“I know.”
Adrian’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“And you’re telling me he helped kill him?”
“I’m telling you Michael suspected him.”
Not proof.
Suspicion.
But enough.
We contacted nobody inside Adrian’s organization.
Instead, he called one person.
A woman named Sofia Marconi.
She met us at an abandoned restaurant twenty miles outside Chicago.
Sofia was forty, elegant, sharp-eyed, and clearly unimpressed by me.
She looked me over.
“This is the accountant?”
“Auditor,” I corrected.
Her eyebrows rose.
Adrian almost smiled.
Sofia spread maps across a table.
“Vincent moved Ethan to Vale House forty minutes ago.”
Adrian froze.
“My house?”
“He wants you home.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because tonight is the winter council.”
I had no idea what that meant.
Apparently every December, leaders from Adrian’s businesses and allied families met at his estate.
Thirty-seven powerful people.
All in one room.
“If Vincent plans to expose Adrian as weak,” Sofia said, “he couldn’t choose a better audience.”
“Why would protecting Ethan make Adrian weak?” I asked.
Sofia gave me a strange look.
“Because Ethan is Michael Vale’s son.”
Adrian’s nephew.
And apparently, under old family traditions, a legitimate male descendant of Michael had inheritance rights.
Vanessa didn’t only want the ledger destroyed.
She wanted control.
If Ethan could be manipulated, threatened, or used publicly, Adrian’s organization could fracture.
“Then we don’t go,” I said.
Adrian looked at me.
“We have to.”
“That’s exactly what Vincent expects.”
“Yes.”
“So surprise him.”
Sofia smiled for the first time.
“I like her.”
Adrian looked at the maps.
“What are you suggesting?”
I pointed toward the service tunnels beneath Vale House.
People underestimated accountants because they thought we only understood numbers.
But logistics were numbers with doors.
Shipping yards.
Access routes.
Timing.
Inventory.
People.
“Vincent expects Adrian Vale to arrive like Adrian Vale.”
I looked at him.
“So don’t.”
Three hours later, thirty-seven dangerous people waited inside Vale House.
Vincent stood beside the fireplace.
Ethan was somewhere upstairs.
And I entered through the front door alone.
Wearing a plain gray dress.
Glasses.
Hair pinned back.
Looking exactly like what Vanessa had always believed I was.
Forgettable.
Vincent smiled when he saw me.
“Ms. Bennett.”
I smiled back.
May you like
That was when he made his first mistake.
He assumed I was frightened.
