Chapter 5 - The Night Declan Lost His Empire
Declan stared at my phone.
“Don't answer.”
I looked at him.
“You don't get to say that anymore.”
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
“Put it on speaker.”
That was better.
I answered.
“Thomas.”
“Elena.”
His voice was smooth.
Calm.
The same voice that had once explained a lease agreement to me over dinner because Declan hated paperwork.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“Declan has been trying to reach you.”
I looked directly at Declan.
His face showed nothing.
“I've been busy.”
Thomas chuckled.
“I imagine.”
Savannah went still beside me.
Victor watched the phone.
Thomas continued.
“I need you to come to the Voss offices.”
“Why?”
“There's been a security issue.”
“What kind?”
“A serious one.”
I swallowed.
“What happened?”
A pause.
Then he said, “Someone breached the financial servers.”
Declan's eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
Thomas didn't know we already had Northstar.
“What do you need from me?”
“Nothing complicated. Just come in.”
“I'm pregnant, Thomas. I'm tired.”
Silence.
One second.
Two.
Three.
That was enough.
I had never told Thomas.
The pregnancy was not public.
His next words came too carefully.
“Pregnant?”
I looked at Declan.
He understood.
So did everyone else.
I answered softly.
“Didn't you know?”
Thomas laughed.
“No. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Declan must be thrilled.”
“He was surprised.”
“I imagine he was.”
“How did you know where I was?”
Silence again.
Then: “What?”
“You said Declan has been trying to reach me.”
“Yes.”
“But he doesn't know where I am.”
Declan's mouth almost curved.
Thomas had made a mistake.
A small one.
Enough.
“Come to the office,” he said.
“Maybe later.”
“Elena.”
His tone changed.
Slightly.
“Now would be better.”
I ended the call.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then Savannah said, “He knows.”
Victor nodded.
Declan looked at Marco.
“Lock him out of every system.”
Marco started typing.
Too late.
Every monitor went black.
Then emergency lights flickered.
Marco cursed.
“He got there first.”
Declan's phone buzzed.
Then Savannah's.
Then mine.
A video arrived.
Henry Calloway appeared on-screen.
Tied to a chair.
Bruised.
Alive.
Thomas Rourke stood behind him.
And beside Thomas stood Graham Calloway.
Savannah made a sound I never wanted to hear from another human being.
“Dad?”
The recorded Graham looked into the camera.
“If you're watching this, you've found more than you should.”
Savannah's hands trembled.
Declan stood perfectly still.
Graham continued.
“Savannah, come home. Declan, complete the wedding. Elena Marlowe leaves Chicago permanently.”
My blood went cold.
Then Graham smiled.
“Otherwise, Henry dies first.”
The screen changed.
An address appeared.
Old Calloway shipping terminal.
Midnight.
Savannah grabbed her coat.
Declan stopped her.
“No.”
“He has Henry.”
“That's why you don't go.”
“He's my brother.”
“And Graham is expecting emotion.”
Savannah shoved his hand away.
“That's easy for you to say.”
“No,” Declan replied quietly. “It isn't.”
His eyes flicked toward me.
I understood.
He had been making decisions from fear for weeks.
Bad ones.
Cruel ones.
Perhaps he finally recognized it.
Victor looked at the clock.
“We have two hours.”
Marco said, “Terminal has four entrances.”
“Six,” Savannah corrected. “Two old service tunnels.”
Everyone looked at her.
“My grandfather built the place.”
Declan nodded.
“Show us.”
A map appeared.
Plans formed quickly.
Too quickly for my liking.
Guns.
Vehicles.
Entry teams.
Escape routes.
I listened until I'd had enough.
“No.”
Declan turned.
“What?”
“No assault.”
“Elena.”
“If you storm the building, Henry could die.”
“We don't have another option.”
“Yes, we do.”
Savannah looked at me.
“What?”
“We give Graham what he wants.”
Declan's expression hardened.
“No.”
“I didn't say we actually give it to him.”
Victor watched me carefully.
“Go on.”
“The wedding.”
Declan stared.
Savannah understood first.
“We announce it's happening tonight.”
“Yes.”
“At the terminal?”
“No. Somewhere public.”
Declan shook his head.
“Too dangerous.”
“Public is safer.”
“For you?”
“For Henry.”
Marco leaned toward the map.
“If Graham believes the marriage is secure, he might move Henry.”
“Exactly.”
Declan looked at me.
“And where are you during this?”
I met his eyes.
“Leaving Chicago.”
“No.”
“Publicly.”
He paused.
I continued.
“We make Graham believe he won. Savannah and Declan announce an immediate private wedding. I make a very visible exit.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You need bait.”
“You are not bait.”
“I'm already bait.”
His face tightened.
“The answer is no.”
I walked closer.
“Then Henry dies while you protect me.”
Savannah looked down.
Declan's anger collapsed.
That was cruel.
I knew it.
But true.
I lowered my voice.
“You spent weeks making choices for me because you were afraid. Let me make one for myself.”
“What if something happens to you?”
“What if something happens to Henry because we do nothing?”
He looked at my stomach.
I touched his hand.
The first time since the television announcement.
Declan froze.
“I want our child to grow up in a world where his father doesn't solve every problem by sacrificing the person he loves.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“You think it's a boy?”
“I don't know.”
For one tiny second, amid everything, his mouth softened.
Then he turned toward the others.
“Fine.”
Marco blinked.
“Fine?”
“Elena leaves publicly. But we control every inch of it.”
I smiled slightly.
“Now you sound like yourself again.”
The plan unfolded.
At ten thirty, Declan and Savannah appeared outside a private hotel entrance.
Press had been tipped off.
Savannah wore the ring.
Declan wore a dark suit.
Cameras flashed.
Declan announced that due to “family circumstances,” the wedding would take place immediately and privately.
At eleven, I left Declan's apartment building carrying luggage.
Photographers waited.
That part was deliberate too.
I looked devastated.
That part wasn't difficult.
A car drove me toward O'Hare.
Marco followed invisibly.
Then we switched vehicles inside a parking garage and doubled back toward the docks.
At 11:42, movement appeared at Calloway Terminal.
One SUV.
Then another.
Marco's team followed.
We watched through surveillance feeds.
Henry was moved.
Alive.
To a warehouse near the river.
Graham had taken the bait.
Declan's team closed in.
Savannah insisted on going.
So did Victor.
I stayed in the command vehicle.
For once, I accepted that limitation.
The baby mattered more than pride.
At 12:09, Marco entered the warehouse.
At 12:11, Henry was located.
At 12:12, shots were fired.
I gripped the seat.
At 12:14, Savannah's voice came through the radio.
“Henry's alive.”
I cried.
Then another voice broke through.
“Declan is hit.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“Where?”
No answer.
“Where is he hit?”
Static.
I grabbed the door.
A guard stopped me.
“You stay here.”
“I need to know.”
“Marco's orders.”
I nearly screamed.
Then Marco's voice came through.
“Shoulder. Not critical.”
I could breathe again.
Barely.
Henry was carried out.
Savannah followed.
Then Declan.
Blood stained his shirt.
He saw me.
Anger crossed his face.
“What are you doing here?”
I laughed through tears.
“You're bleeding and still giving orders.”
He reached me.
I touched his face.
“Idiot.”
“Yes.”
“You got shot.”
“Yes.”
“Again?”
His mouth curved.
“You know me too well.”
Then officers arrived.
Not Chicago police.
Federal agents.
Victor had sent the Northstar files to a federal prosecutor he trusted.
Graham Calloway was arrested attempting to leave the terminal.
Thomas Rourke wasn't there.
That bothered Declan.
“It isn't over,” he said.
He was right.
By dawn, Graham was in custody.
Henry was at a hospital.
Declan's wound was treated.
And Northstar accounts had been frozen.
Millions vanished overnight.
Declan lost businesses.
All of them tied to questionable money.
He didn't resist.
Maybe that surprised me most.
“I can rebuild clean,” he said.
We were sitting alone in a hospital room.
“You'd give it up?”
“The parts that should never have existed.”
“For the baby?”
He looked at me.
“For myself.”
That was the right answer.
Then he added, “And for you.”
I looked away.
“I don't know if we're fixed.”
“We aren't.”
“Good.”
“I don't expect forgiveness.”
“Good again.”
He almost smiled.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
My blood ran cold.
I opened the message.
One photograph.
Thomas Rourke stood outside my father's house in Arizona.
Below it were six words.
YOU FORGOT ABOUT THE OTHER GRANDFATHER.
May you like
Then a second message arrived.
And my father's front door opened.
