Chapter 5 - The Accountant’s FatherMia woke to the sound of a man crying.
At first, she thought it was Leo.
Her body reacted before her mind did. She tried to sit up, arms reaching for a baby who was no longer there.
Pain exploded through her side.
A hand pressed gently against her shoulder.
“Easy.”
Gabriel.
His voice was low, near the bed.
Mia blinked against warm light.
She was not in the safe room anymore.
She lay in a bedroom she did not recognize, beneath clean white sheets, with a bandage tight around her ribs and an IV taped to her hand. Rain whispered against tall windows. Somewhere beyond the walls, men spoke in quiet, controlled voices.
She turned her head.
Gabriel sat in a chair beside the bed, still wearing the black shirt from before. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows. There was dried blood on one cuff.
Not his, she thought.
That frightened her less than it should have.
“Leo?” she whispered.
“With his mother.”
Her eyes closed.
The relief was so strong it hurt.
“He’s okay?”
“He is perfect.”
A tear slipped into her hair.
Gabriel watched it silently.
For years, he had seen women cry around him. Some from fear. Some from grief. Some because they believed tears could change his mind.
Mia’s tears were different.
They had nothing to do with him.
That made them harder to witness.
“The crying,” she whispered.
Gabriel looked toward the door.
“It’s your father.”
Mia’s eyes flew open.
She tried to rise again.
Gabriel stopped her carefully. “He’s safe.”
“You brought him here?”
“Marco did.”
“No.” Panic cut through her pain. “No, you shouldn’t have—”
“Mia.”
“They’ll use him.”
“They already tried.”
She went still.
Gabriel’s face told her the rest.
Her father was alive.
But not untouched.
“What happened?”
“Two men came to his house forty minutes ago. He wasn’t there.”
Mia frowned through the pain.
“He’s always home at night.”
“Not tonight. Apparently, he goes to the same twenty-four-hour diner every Thursday when his knees hurt.”
Despite everything, Mia let out a broken laugh.
“Cherry pie.”
Gabriel’s expression softened by a fraction.
“Marco found him there. Your father did not appreciate being escorted by armed men.”
“No,” Mia whispered. “He wouldn’t.”
The bedroom door opened.
Thomas Carver entered with Marco behind him.
Tom Carver was a narrow-shouldered man in his late sixties with silver hair, tired eyes, and the kind of work-worn hands that had repaired locks, doors, hinges, and broken neighborhood things for forty years.
When he saw Mia in the bed, his face collapsed.
“Oh, baby.”
Mia’s mouth trembled. “Dad.”
He crossed the room too fast for his bad knees and took her hand carefully, avoiding the IV.
“What did they do to you?”
“I’m okay.”
“You are a terrible liar.”
She smiled weakly.
He bent and kissed her forehead, then looked at Gabriel.
The softness vanished.
“You.”
Gabriel stood.
Marco tensed.
Tom pointed one shaking finger at Gabriel’s chest.
“My daughter worked for you. She stayed late for you. She came home with headaches and secrets because of you. And now look at her.”
“Dad,” Mia whispered.
“No.” Tom’s voice cracked. “No, I told you that family would swallow you whole.”
Gabriel did not defend himself.
That surprised Mia.
Men like Gabriel always defended, denied, dominated.
He simply stood there and accepted her father’s fury.
“You’re right,” Gabriel said.
Tom blinked.
Gabriel continued, “She is hurt because of my family. Your anger is earned.”
The room changed.
Marco looked at Gabriel like he had never heard those words in that order.
Tom’s hand lowered.
Mia stared.
Gabriel turned to her. “But she is also alive because you taught her how to escape a locked room.”
Tom’s eyes filled.
Mia looked away.
Her father squeezed her hand.
“I taught you that because your mother got locked in the pantry during that motel fire,” he said softly. “Not so you could fight kidnappers.”
“I didn’t fight them.”
Tom gave her a look.
“Much,” she admitted.
Gabriel’s mouth almost curved.
Almost.
Then Tom reached into his jacket.
Marco’s hand moved.
Tom froze. “It’s paper.”
Gabriel nodded for Marco to stand down.
Tom pulled out a small brown envelope.
“Mia mailed this to me six months ago,” he said.
Mia’s face went pale.
“Dad.”
“She told me if anything happened to her, I should take it to a lawyer in Milwaukee.”
Gabriel’s eyes sharpened. “What is it?”
Tom looked at Mia.
She closed her eyes.
“The first backup,” she whispered.
Gabriel took the envelope only when Tom offered it.
Inside was a flash drive and a folded note.
Gabriel opened the note.
If you are reading this, then I was wrong to stay quiet and wrong to think numbers could protect anyone.
Daniel Romano did not die by accident.
Antonio Romano’s trust was altered before his death.
Vincent Romano benefited from both.
Cassandra Vale signed more than a death certificate.
And Gabriel Romano either knows nothing…
Or he knows everything.
Gabriel looked up.
Mia would not meet his eyes.
The words should have angered him.
They did not.
They humbled him.
“You thought I helped kill my brother,” he said.
Mia’s voice broke. “I thought everyone around you was either loyal enough to lie or afraid enough to obey.”
“And me?”
She looked at him then.
Really looked.
“I didn’t know which one you were.”
Gabriel absorbed that.
Before he could answer, Marco’s phone rang.
He listened for five seconds.
Then his face hardened.
“We have a problem.”
Gabriel folded the note. “Only one?”
Marco looked at Mia.
Then at Tom.
“Someone just leaked footage of Mia leaving the warehouse with Leo.”
Mia’s blood turned cold.
Gabriel’s voice sharpened. “To whom?”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“Every news station in Chicago.”
Tom gripped Mia’s hand.
May you like
Marco continued.
“They’re calling her an accomplice.”
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