Chapter 9 - The Man Bruno Hated
The first man reached my door before I could open it.
Ethan locked the vehicle.
“Police are coming.”
“He has Bruno.”
“And three men are outside.”
The man struck my window with the metal bar.
Glass cracked.
I had spent years in boardrooms where men in thousand-dollar suits tried to intimidate me with lawyers.
A steel bar was simpler.
Ethan reversed hard.
The SUV blocking the road tried to adjust.
We swung sideways across the gravel.
Another man struck the rear panel.
Then sirens sounded.
The three men ran.
One disappeared into the woods.
Two jumped into the SUV.
It accelerated toward a service road.
Detective Morales’s vehicle nearly collided with it entering the property.
Officers pursued.
I was already out of the car.
“Adrian!” Morales shouted.
I ran toward the barking.
Past a stable.
Past an equipment shed.
A chain-link enclosure stood behind an old barn.
Bruno was inside.
He looked thinner.
His fur was dirty.
There was a bandage on one front leg where someone had placed an IV line.
But when he saw me, his entire body changed.
His tail hit the metal wall.
Once.
Twice.
Then he tried to stand.
His legs failed.
“Bruno.”
I dropped beside the fence.
His head pushed against the chain links.
That massive face.
Those tired eyes.
I had spent three days imagining him dead.
Now he was trying to lick my hand through wire.
“I’m here.”
His tail struck the wall again.
“I’m here, buddy.”
An officer cut the lock.
I entered.
Bruno tried standing a second time.
I held him.
One hundred and forty pounds of dog leaned into my chest.
I didn’t care who saw.
I buried my face against his head.
For the first time since Chicago, I let myself break.
“You’re okay.”
He wasn’t.
Not completely.
But alive was enough.
Dr. Harris arrived with an emergency veterinary team.
They stabilized Bruno and loaded him into a medical transport vehicle.
Before the doors closed, his eyes found me.
“I’m coming.”
His tail moved once.
Then the vehicle left.
Morales approached.
“We found drugs in the barn, transport records, the cage, and surveillance equipment.”
“Vivienne?”
“Gone.”
“Julian?”
“Also gone.”
“They were here.”
“We know.”
She held up a second phone in an evidence bag.
Vivienne’s hidden device.
“She dropped it.”
Ethan smiled grimly.
“That could be everything.”
It nearly was.
The phone contained months of messages.
Not all recoverable immediately, but enough previews remained.
JULIAN: Once you’re legally married, we move.
VIVIENNE: He’ll never sign twelve percent directly.
JULIAN: Then bury it.
VIVIENNE: Bruno watches everything.
JULIAN: Then remove the dog.
Another:
VIVIENNE: Sofia saw us.
JULIAN: She’s three.
VIVIENNE: Maria worries me.
JULIAN: Remind her what she loses.
I had to stop reading.
Not because of me.
Because of Sofia.
They had known.
Vivienne knew a child watched her load my sedated dog into a car.
And instead of reconsidering what she was doing, she threatened the child’s mother.
Further messages made the financial plan clear.
Julian had been quietly accumulating shares in Vale Meridian, the company my father founded.
My controlling position stood in his way.
Vivienne’s role was to marry me, gain proximity to documents and personal routines, and secure my signature on a voting transfer disguised among marital papers.
Then came the part Ethan suspected.
A drug in my champagne.
A staged collapse.
A private physician connected to Julian.
Temporary medical authority shifting to Vivienne.
While I was incapacitated, she could present documents as already approved and influence emergency board decisions.
Whether they intended to kill me remained unclear.
One message chilled me.
VIVIENNE: I never agreed to permanent.
JULIAN: Permanent may become necessary.**
That evening, Bruno remained at the veterinary hospital.
I sat beside his recovery cage.
He was awake.
Weak.
But every time I moved, his eyes followed me.
Dr. Harris said there appeared to be no lasting organ damage.
Relief nearly dropped me to the floor.
“You got lucky,” he said.
“No.”
I stroked Bruno’s head.
“I got warned.”
By a three-year-old girl.
Before leaving, I called Maria.
Sofia answered.
“Mr. Adrian?”
“I found Bruno.”
Silence.
Then a scream so loud I pulled the phone away.
“Mommy! Bruno home!”
Maria came on crying.
“Is he okay?”
“He will be.”
“Thank God.”
“And Maria?”
“Yes?”
“You and Sofia are staying somewhere secure tonight.”
“You think—”
“Yes.”
Because Julian and Vivienne were missing.
And their plan had collapsed.
Desperate people often became dangerous when plans collapsed.
The wedding was two days away.
I instructed my staff not to cancel anything.
Flowers arrived.
Tables were set.
Guests confirmed travel.
As far as the world knew, Adrian Vale was still marrying Vivienne Laurent.
Ethan thought I was insane.
Morales thought it could work.
“We announce the cancellation,” I said, “they disappear.”
“And if we pretend it continues?”
“They have unfinished business.”
Morales nodded.
“The documents.”
“Their money.”
“And maybe evidence inside your property.”
Exactly.
They had risked too much to walk away easily.
We would give them one final chance to come back.
That night, I returned home without Bruno.
The mansion was quiet again.
But different.
Now I knew he was safe.
I entered the study.
On my desk sat a white envelope.
No one admitted delivering it.
Inside was a wedding invitation.
Mine.
Across Vivienne’s name someone had drawn a black line.
On the back, written in red ink:
YOU SHOULD HAVE SIGNED.
Beneath it:
TOMORROW, SOMEONE ELSE PAYS.
I immediately thought of Maria.
Then Sofia.
I grabbed my phone.
Maria didn’t answer.
Neither did the security officer outside the apartment where Morales had placed them.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then a photograph arrived from Julian’s number.
May you like
Sofia’s red ribbon lay on the passenger seat of a black Mercedes.
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