Chapter 5
Agent Donovan did not want me to watch it.
That was written all over her face.
Alessandro did not either.
He stood beside the little table in the safe room with his hands curled into fists, staring at the laptop like it was a weapon.
Maybe it was.
But the video was my father’s.
My history.
My wound.
I was done being protected from my own life.
“Play it,” I said.
Agent Donovan hesitated.
“Elizabeth—”
“Play it.”
The screen lit up.
For three seconds, there was only darkness.
Then a dashboard camera adjusted.
Rain streaked the windshield.
My father sat behind the wheel of his blue sedan, older than I remembered from my dreams, tired, his hair damp at the temples.
My hand flew to my mouth.
I had not heard his voice in three years except in memory.
Then he spoke.
“If this gets to Elizabeth, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
My knees weakened.
Alessandro moved slightly, then stopped himself from reaching for me.
My father glanced at the rearview mirror.
“I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I gave them enough, they’d leave our family alone.”
Agent Donovan paused the video.
“Do you need a moment?”
“No.”
My voice barely came out.
She pressed play.
My father continued.
“Lorenzo Vitali’s men are not the only ones inside this. Councilman Reeves, Peter Bellamy, Harold Crane from the hospital board, and Victor Sloane from Obsidian contracts. They’re using charity funds to clean money through construction and medical supply invoices.”
Alessandro’s face turned lethal.
Agent Donovan wrote names down even though she probably already knew them.
My father’s voice shook.
“I kept copies. Patrick Carter knows where one set is.”
Liam’s father.
My stomach twisted.
“But Patrick is angry. He wants to sell the files. If he does, they’ll kill him too.”
Too.
My breath stopped.
My father knew.
He knew he was about to die.
On screen, headlights flashed behind him.
He looked in the mirror again.
“They found me.”
I covered my mouth.
Alessandro stepped closer.
This time, I did not tell him to stop.
My father drove faster.
Rain hammered the windshield.
“If Elizabeth hears this, run. Do not trust the police without federal protection. Do not trust Carter if Patrick disappears. And do not trust any Vitali except—”
The car jerked.
Metal screamed.
The video exploded into static.
I made a sound I did not recognize.
The room blurred.
My father’s voice had been cut off right before the name.
Except who?
Except Alessandro?
Except no one?
Agent Donovan stopped the video.
I bent forward, gripping the edge of the table.
For three years, I had imagined my father dying unaware.
A sudden accident.
A lie, but at least a quick one.
Now I knew he had seen death coming in the mirror.
Alessandro’s voice was low.
“Who had access to this footage?”
“Whoever had the drive,” Agent Donovan said. “Thomas Monroe likely copied it from a hidden dash camera.”
I looked up.
“Liam knew.”
“Maybe not everything,” she said.
“He knew enough.”
The betrayal settled deeper.
Liam had held my grief in one hand and secrets in the other.
He had let me mourn blind.
Agent Donovan closed the laptop halfway.
“We need to unlock the encrypted files. This video supports reopening the Monroe case fully.”
“What about the names?”
“We move carefully. Some of them still have influence.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“And some still have men who will act before warrants land.”
She did not deny it.
My hand moved to my stomach.
The baby.
My father’s grandchild.
A Vitali child.
A Monroe child.
A life already tied to enemies with names and money.
“I want to leave Chicago,” I said.
Alessandro looked at me.
Agent Donovan did too.
“Where?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Somewhere nobody knows me.”
“That may be safest short-term.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
But he nodded.
Again, he did not argue.
That made anger harder.
So I aimed it at the truth.
“Would you come?”
He looked surprised.
“Do you want me to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I will stay close enough to protect you and far enough not to trap you.”
My eyes burned.
“Do you practice saying the exact thing women want to hear?”
“No.”
A faint sadness crossed his face.
“I learned by watching my mother hear the opposite.”
That stopped me.
He looked away.
“My father controlled every room he entered. My mother spent her life smiling beside him. I promised myself I would never become him.”
“Did you?”
His eyes met mine.
“Sometimes I fear blood is louder than promises.”
For the first time, I saw not just danger in him.
I saw someone fighting an inheritance.
Not money.
Not buildings.
Something darker.
Agent Donovan arranged a transfer for the next morning.
A federal safe house outside Madison under another temporary identity.
I almost laughed when she told me.
Another name.
Another room.
Another vanishing.
That night, I could not sleep.
I sat by the window with a blanket around my shoulders, watching the parking lot lights flicker.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
Alessandro entered holding a paper bag.
“I asked what pregnant women eat when they are nauseous. I received six conflicting answers.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“What did you bring?”
“Crackers, ginger tea, apples, and something called saltines, which appear to be punishment in food form.”
A laugh escaped me.
Small.
Surprising.
His eyes warmed.
He set the bag down and stepped back.
“No coffee?”
“I thought the smell bothered you.”
“You noticed?”
“Yes.”
We stood in silence.
Then I said, “My father was going to say a name.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it was yours?”
Alessandro did not answer quickly.
“I hope it was. But hope is not evidence.”
I nodded.
That answer mattered.
He looked at the floor.
“I should have told you who I knew you were that night.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted one hour where neither of us was a file.”
My throat tightened.
“So did I.”
Outside, a car passed slowly.
Too slowly.
Alessandro’s head turned.
Instantly alert.
The car continued past the lot.
He relaxed only after it disappeared.
“Is it always like that?” I asked.
“What?”
“Waiting for danger.”
He looked at me.
“For me, yes.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It is.”
The honesty hung there.
I looked at the paper bag.
“Open the crackers.”
He blinked.
Then obeyed.
We sat on opposite sides of the small table eating saltines at midnight, like two people pretending the world was ordinary.
For ten minutes, it almost worked.
Then my secure phone buzzed.
Agent Donovan had sent a message.
Do not open your door for anyone. Possible leak in relocation plan.
Alessandro read it over my shoulder.
His face changed.
A second later, the fire alarm screamed.
Red lights flashed.
Doors opened down the hall.
People shouted.
Agent Donovan burst into the room.
“Move now.”
Alessandro grabbed my bag.
I grabbed my father’s watch.
Smoke seeped under the door.
Not thick.
Not accidental.
May you like
Someone knew exactly where I was.
And they wanted me flushed into the open.
