Chapter 3 - The Senator’s Daughter
Claire stared at Madison Carver.
The woman was younger than Claire, elegant, composed, and far calmer than anyone walking into a secret conversation about kidnappings had any right to be.
“You arranged it?” Claire asked.
Madison closed the office door.
“Not exactly.”
Martin sighed.
“This is getting complicated.”
“It became complicated when your people abducted an accountant,” Claire said.
Madison looked at Martin.
“Your people?”
Claire caught it.
Martin did too.
His expression hardened.
Madison smiled.
“Interesting choice of words.”
Claire stood.
“I’m leaving.”
“No,” Martin said.
Claire looked at him.
“No?”
Martin softened his voice.
“Claire, listen to me. You’re in danger now.”
“I noticed.”
“Adrian Vale cannot know Madison is involved.”
“Why?”
Madison answered.
“Because my father will die.”
Claire stared at her.
Senator Thomas Carver.
One of Illinois’s most powerful political figures.
Madison sat across from Claire.
“Adrian believes my father stole money from him.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
Martin said nothing.
Claire noticed.
“You disagree?”
Martin walked toward the window.
“It isn’t that simple.”
Claire looked between them.
Nothing was simple anymore.
Madison explained that Senator Carver had spent years quietly investigating financial corruption connected to Northbridge.
He discovered Lakeshore Maritime.
Then discovered money belonging to Adrian’s organization had been rerouted.
Adrian assumed Carver was responsible.
“So Adrian planned to kidnap you for leverage?” Claire asked.
Madison nodded.
“And you knew?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Madison glanced toward Martin.
Claire understood.
“You told her.”
Martin nodded.
Claire felt nauseated.
“So you knew Adrian’s men were coming.”
“Yes.”
“And you let them take me?”
“No,” Madison said quickly. “You weren't supposed to be there.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“That makes me feel much better.”
Madison leaned forward.
“We planned to intercept Adrian’s men.”
“Apparently your interception skills need improvement.”
Martin cut in.
“Claire.”
“No. I spent last night wondering whether I would ever see my cat again because everyone in this ridiculous conspiracy keeps making mistakes.”
Madison looked genuinely ashamed.
Claire continued.
“And now somebody searched my apartment.”
Martin’s face changed.
“What?”
Claire watched him carefully.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
That mattered.
Martin approached.
“Who searched it?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked toward Madison.
“That wasn’t us.”
Claire believed him.
Which meant there was another player.
She remembered the flash drive.
“File eleven.”
Martin picked it up.
“This contains evidence of who has been moving Adrian’s money.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire stared.
“You just said—”
“I know the financial identity. Not the real person.”
Martin handed her the drive.
“Accountant to accountant.”
Claire reluctantly took it.
“Why me?”
“Because you’re better than I am.”
That surprised her.
Martin smiled faintly.
“You thought I never noticed?”
Claire looked at the drive.
“What do you want?”
“Find the pattern.”
“And then?”
“Give it to Senator Carver.”
“Not Adrian?”
“No.”
Claire slipped the drive into her pocket.
She should have refused.
Instead, she returned to her desk.
At 4:45, she left Northbridge.
Adrian’s sedan was waiting.
She climbed inside.
He immediately knew something was wrong.
“What happened?”
“Martin questioned me.”
“And?”
Claire looked into Adrian’s dark eyes.
She thought about Madison.
About Senator Carver.
About the flash drive hidden inside her coat.
For the first time in her life, Claire deliberately lied to someone who frightened her.
“Nothing.”
Adrian watched her.
Claire held his gaze.
Then he looked away.
“All right.”
She almost exhaled.
Until Adrian said:
“Who was the woman who entered his office?”
Claire froze.
He had people watching.
Of course he did.
“Client.”
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
Adrian turned toward her.
“Claire.”
Something about the way he said her name made lying suddenly harder.
She remained silent.
Adrian’s expression changed.
“You’re protecting someone.”
“So are you.”
“Who?”
“Yourself.”
They stared at each other.
Then Adrian surprised her.
He smiled.
Barely.
“You’re learning.”
That evening Claire was taken—not as a prisoner, Adrian insisted—to his Gold Coast mansion.
Winston was waiting.
Claire nearly cried.
She dropped to her knees.
The orange cat waddled toward her and complained loudly.
“You found him.”
Adrian stood behind her.
“One of my men did.”
Claire hugged Winston.
“Thank you.”
Adrian seemed uncomfortable with gratitude.
“He scratched Ray.”
“Then he has excellent judgment.”
From the doorway, Ray muttered, “I heard that.”
For the first time since the kidnapping, Claire laughed.
And Adrian watched her.
Something changed between them that night.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But something.
After midnight, Claire sat at a desk in the guest room.
The flash drive was plugged into a laptop Adrian’s people had given her.
She had waited until the mansion became quiet.
File eleven opened.
Thousands of transactions appeared.
Claire worked.
Numbers were safe.
Numbers followed rules.
People lied.
Numbers rarely did.
By 2:30 a.m., Claire found the pattern.
Every stolen payment moved through three companies.
Every third transfer was divided into seven smaller payments.
Those payments went overseas.
Switzerland.
Cayman Islands.
Luxembourg.
Then returned through Chicago real estate investments.
Claire traced the ownership.
One company belonged to a trust.
The trust belonged to another holding company.
She kept going.
At 3:17 a.m., she reached the final beneficiary.
Claire stared at the screen.
No.
She checked again.
Same result.
She opened corporate filings.
Same name.
Claire stood so quickly her chair fell backward.
The bedroom door opened.
Adrian entered.
“What happened?”
Claire slammed the laptop shut.
“Nothing.”
He looked at the chair.
“Nothing knocked that over?”
“I’m tired.”
Adrian approached.
Claire’s heart hammered.
He stopped.
“You’re lying again.”
Claire looked at him.
“Maybe I’m getting better.”
“No.”
His gaze dropped toward the laptop.
“What did you find?”
Claire couldn't answer.
Because the name she had discovered made no sense.
Adrian reached for the computer.
Claire put her hand on it.
“Don’t.”
Their eyes met.
“Why?”
“Because I need to verify something.”
Adrian studied her face.
Then slowly removed his hand.
“All right.”
Claire was stunned.
“You trust me?”
“No.”
“Then why stop?”
His expression softened.
“Because you asked.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Adrian left.
Claire waited until his footsteps disappeared.
She opened the laptop again.
The beneficiary remained there.
She searched the name online.
Photographs appeared.
Business galas.
Charity events.
Political fundraisers.
And beside the man in several photographs stood Adrian.
Sometimes smiling.
Sometimes shaking his hand.
Sometimes standing beside him at family events.
Claire whispered the name aloud.
“Raymond Mercer.”
Ray.
Adrian’s most trusted lieutenant.
The man who had been beside him from the beginning.
The man sleeping two rooms away.
Claire stared at the screen.
Then another document caught her attention.
A transfer authorization.
She opened it.
Ray’s name wasn't there.
Someone else had approved the original account.
Twenty-four years earlier.
Marco Valenti.
Adrian’s father.
Claire suddenly understood that the stolen money had begun moving long before Adrian inherited anything.
Ray hadn’t created the scheme.
He had inherited it.
But from whom?
A floorboard creaked outside.
Claire looked toward the door.
The handle slowly turned.
Claire closed the laptop.
The door opened.
Ray stepped inside.
He looked at Claire.
Then at the computer.
Neither spoke.
Finally, Ray smiled.
“You found me.”
Claire’s blood went cold.
Ray quietly closed the door behind him.
But instead of threatening her, he said something she never expected.
“You need to stop looking at me, Claire.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not the person stealing Adrian’s money.”
“Your companies—”
“Are being used.”
“By whom?”
Ray looked toward the hallway.
Fear appeared in his face.
For the first time, Claire realized Ray wasn't afraid of Adrian.
He was afraid of someone else.
He leaned closer.
“The person behind this has been inside Adrian’s family for twenty-four years.”
Claire swallowed.
“Who?”
Ray whispered:
“His mother.”
May you like
And downstairs, unseen by either of them, Adrian Vale stood in the shadows.
He had heard every word.
