Chapter 2 - The Name That Changed the Room
I had never heard Dominic Rourke’s name spoken inside my marriage.
Not once.
But when Owen said it, Elias’s entire security detail changed.
Two men moved toward the windows.
Another checked the hall.
Elias closed the curtains.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
He looked at Owen.
“Get Romano back here. And call Mara.”
“Already downstairs.”
Elias turned toward me.
“Do you know who Rourke is?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did Grant ever mention Rourke Shipping? North Meridian Construction? Harbor Crest?”
Harbor Crest.
Something moved in my memory.
“My husband receives checks from Harbor Crest.”
Elias and Owen exchanged a look.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Consulting.”
“How much?”
“I never saw statements.”
“Did Grant control your accounts?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“After we married.”
Elias’s jaw tightened.
A woman entered carrying a leather briefcase.
Mara Quinn.
Attorney.
Early forties, dark hair, expression that suggested she did not fear anyone in the penthouse—including Elias.
She introduced herself to me first.
Not as Elias’s lawyer.
As someone who could arrange independent counsel.
“You are not obligated to remain here,” she said. “You are not obligated to answer questions about your husband. If you want a hospital, shelter, police, family member, or different attorney, say so.”
I looked at Elias.
He said nothing.
That mattered.
“Why would Grant care who found me?”
Mara opened her briefcase but did not remove anything.
“Because Grant may have been hiding more than his affair with organized crime.”
“What affair?”
She glanced at Elias.
He nodded.
Mara continued.
“Harbor Crest is one of several companies investigators and private auditors have suspected of laundering proceeds through construction contracts. Dominic Rourke controls significant portions indirectly.”
I stared.
“My husband is an accountant.”
“That would make him useful.”
My skin crawled.
Elias asked gently:
“Did Grant ever ask about your father?”
That question hit harder.
“My father died when I was nineteen.”
“What was his name?”
“Samuel Reed.”
Owen swore under his breath.
Elias shut his eyes.
“You knew him.”
It was not a question.
Elias walked toward fireplace.
“My father knew him.”
“How?”
“Samuel handled books for Vance Maritime twenty years ago.”
I could barely process.
“My father worked at a hardware wholesaler.”
“He did later.”
Elias faced me.
“Before that, he worked for people like my father.”
My heart pounded.
“No.”
“He left.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Mara intervened.
“Records support that Samuel Reed worked as financial controller for Vance Maritime Holdings for approximately six years. That company had both legitimate and criminal-linked operations at the time.”
I felt physically sick.
My father had been quiet.
Gentle.
He taught me how to balance a checkbook using grocery receipts.
He hated gambling.
He checked locks twice.
He died in what police called a single-car accident when his brakes failed on wet road.
“What does this have to do with Grant?”
Elias lowered his voice.
“My father once accused Dominic Rourke of stealing from both of them.”
“Both?”
“Vance money and union pension funds.”
My stomach dropped.
“Samuel found discrepancies.”
I stared.
“Did my father report him?”
“We don't know.”
“Then why did he die?”
Silence.
That silence told me nobody knew enough to claim murder.
Good.
At least someone in the room respected facts.
Elias said:
“Your father’s death was ruled accidental. I have no proof otherwise.”
“Then stop looking at me like you do.”
He nodded.
Fair.
Then Mara asked:
“Did Samuel leave you anything unusual?”
“A small apartment. Some furniture.”
“Safe deposit?”
“No.”
“Key?”
I almost answered no.
Then remembered.
My mother gave me a silver locket after Dad died.
Inside was a tiny brass key.
She said it opened “something that mattered more than money.”
I never found lock.
After Mom died, locket remained in my jewelry box.
Except three weeks ago…
Grant asked where it was.
My breath stopped.
Elias saw.
“What?”
“Grant searched my dresser.”
“When?”
“Before the twins were born.”
“For what?”
“He said I’d misplaced jewelry.”
Elias stepped closer.
“Where is the locket?”
My hand went automatically to my neck.
Nothing.
Grant had ripped the chain off after delivery.
I remembered now.
Not because it was valuable.
Because he wanted the key.
“He has it.”
Elias’s face hardened.
Then my daughter cried from next room.
Before anyone moved, another guard entered.
“Boss, we intercepted chatter.”
“What?”
“Grant is telling Rourke the woman didn’t have the key.”
My mouth went dry.
Elias looked at me.
“He thinks you moved it before he threw you out.”
“I didn’t.”
Owen shook his head.
“Rourke doesn't believe him.”
May you like
Then he held up another phone.
“And Rourke just ordered Grant to bring Ava back alive.”
