Chapter 4 - THE GODFATHER AT THE DOOR
I had less than thirty seconds.
“Take Alex into my bedroom,” I told Elizabeth.
“No.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“If you suddenly hide him, Sebastian will know something changed.”
“He is not standing near my son.”
“He doesn’t need to.”
She pointed toward the guest hallway.
“Let Alex stay with Dr. Ross. Out of sight, but not obviously evacuated.”
Gabriel closed the laptop.
“I’ll disappear too.”
The elevator rose.
Fifty-third floor.
Fifty-fourth.
I looked at Marcus.
“Let him in.”
Marcus frowned.
“Boss.”
“Normal.”
The elevator reached fifty-six.
Doors opened.
Sebastian Cole stepped into my penthouse carrying a paper bag from Alex’s favorite bakery.
He looked exactly like the man I had known for twenty-four years.
Dark suit.
No tie.
Easy smile.
Small scar beside his left eye from a fight we survived when we were seventeen.
“Chicago couldn’t tolerate you for two days?”
I smiled.
“Apparently not.”
We embraced.
I hated myself for how familiar it felt.
Then Sebastian noticed the flour.
“What happened here?”
“Alex happened.”
He laughed.
“Good.”
That was almost convincing.
Almost.
He placed the bakery bag on the island.
“Where is the little guy?”
“Sleeping.”
Sebastian’s eyes moved toward the hallway.
Only once.
Still enough.
Then he noticed Elizabeth.
She had deliberately stayed in the kitchen.
“The new housekeeper.”
“Yes.”
Sebastian smiled at her.
“You survived three weeks.”
Elizabeth returned the smile.
“Apparently I’m stubborn.”
“Useful quality in this house.”
His eyes stayed on her too long.
Did he recognize her?
Emma’s friend?
Probably not.
Elizabeth had looked different in the college photograph.
Sebastian poured himself coffee.
He had done it a thousand times.
For the first time, I wondered how many times he had stood in my kitchen while planning against me.
“How was Chicago?” he asked.
“Profitable.”
“Good.”
“You knew I came back early.”
He stirred sugar into his coffee.
“Marcus mentioned it.”
I looked at him.
“No, he didn’t.”
The spoon stopped.
Sebastian lifted his eyes.
“What?”
“I asked him.”
A tiny smile.
“Then someone else did.”
“Who?”
“Andrew, I have two hundred people reporting information every day. I don’t remember every message.”
There it was.
Smooth.
Reasonable.
Prepared.
I changed direction.
“Emma’s insurance investigator called.”
Sebastian’s expression did not move.
“Why?”
“Routine review.”
“Four months later?”
“Apparently.”
He sipped his coffee.
“What do they want?”
“To reexamine the car.”
Silence.
Then:
“Why?”
I shrugged.
“Brake system.”
His eyes shifted.
So small most people would miss it.
I did not.
Sebastian had taught me to watch eyes.
That irony almost made me laugh.
“Probably lawyers searching for someone to sue,” he said.
“Probably.”
Then Alex appeared in the hallway.
Dr. Ross was behind him.
I almost swore.
Alex had left the bedroom.
The moment he saw Sebastian, he stopped.
Sebastian’s face softened.
“Hey, buddy.”
Alex backed up.
Not subtle.
Not grief.
Fear.
Sebastian’s smile faltered.
“Alex?”
My son reached backward until he found Dr. Ross’s hand.
Sebastian looked at me.
“What’s wrong with him?”
I wanted to break him for asking.
Instead, I said:
“Bad morning.”
Sebastian crouched.
“Come say hello.”
Alex shook his head.
Sebastian reached into the bakery bag.
“Chocolate croissant.”
Alex’s eyes went to the blue logo on the bag.
Then he whispered:
“No cup.”
Every person in the kitchen went still.
Sebastian did too.
“What?”
Alex looked at him.
“No blue cup.”
Sebastian stood slowly.
“I have no idea what he means.”
I smiled.
Neither did I, technically.
But his answer came too quickly.
“He’s talking again.”
Sebastian looked surprised.
That reaction was real.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“That’s great.”
Was it?
He did not sound happy.
He sounded worried.
Elizabeth stepped toward Alex.
Sebastian finally looked at her differently.
“You did that?”
“No.”
“She helped,” I said.
“Interesting.”
The word had teeth.
He finished his coffee.
“I should let him rest.”
“Good idea.”
He moved toward the elevator.
Then stopped.
“Andrew.”
“Yes?”
“Can we talk later?”
“About?”
“Business.”
“What business?”
He smiled.
“The kind we don’t discuss in front of employees.”
Elizabeth did not react.
I did.
“Tonight.”
“Eight.”
He left.
The elevator doors closed.
Marcus immediately locked out Sebastian’s access code.
I turned toward Alex.
My son ran straight to me.
I lifted him.
“You’re okay.”
He kept staring at the elevator.
Elizabeth whispered:
“He knows.”
“Yes.”
“Not everything.”
“No.”
Gabriel emerged from the office.
“We have another problem.”
“What?”
“Sebastian accessed James Maritime’s archive from his phone while standing in your kitchen.”
My expression hardened.
“What did he open?”
“The audit logs.”
“He was checking whether we found Emma’s transfers.”
Gabriel nodded.
“And?”
“He tried deleting a remote backup.”
“Did he succeed?”
“No.”
I looked at Marcus.
“Follow him.”
“Already have two cars downstairs.”
“Not our usual men.”
“Agreed.”
Sebastian drove to Queens.
Not his office.
Not his apartment.
A warehouse near Newtown Creek.
Owned by a company Gabriel had identified from Emma’s ledger.
One of the shells receiving James Maritime money.
We watched remotely.
Sebastian entered alone.
Twenty minutes later, another man arrived.
Vincent Marino.
Heir to the family Sebastian supposedly hated.
My oldest enemy.
They hugged.
I stared at the screen.
Two decades of wars.
Funerals.
Ambushes.
Lost men.
And Sebastian had been sitting across the table from both sides.
Gabriel whispered:
“Jesus.”
I understood everything and nothing.
Then Marcus received another report.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The warehouse has exterior audio.”
“Play it.”
The recording was rough.
Traffic.
Wind.
Then Sebastian’s voice.
“Andrew found something.”
Vincent Marino answered.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about the kid?”
My body went rigid.
Sebastian lowered his voice.
“He’s talking.”
Marino cursed.
“What does he remember?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the woman?”
Sebastian paused.
“The housekeeper is a problem.”
Elizabeth’s face went pale.
Marino said:
“Then remove the problem.”
I stood.
Marcus grabbed my arm.
“Boss.”
“Let go.”
“Think.”
I stared at him.
“Think about Alex.”
That stopped me.
Four months earlier, rage might have decided everything.
Now my son was in the room.
Watching.
Learning.
I sat down again.
“Police?”
Gabriel asked carefully.
The word would have been unthinkable in my world a year earlier.
But Emma was dead.
Alex had been threatened.
And Sebastian’s crimes reached legitimate companies, murder, and my child.
“This isn’t family business anymore.”
I looked at Marcus.
“Get an outside homicide investigator I can trust.”
Marcus nodded.
Elizabeth studied me.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going after him yourself?”
“I want Sebastian to live long enough to answer every question.”
I looked at Alex.
“And I want my son to grow up knowing his father chose him over revenge.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened.
Then Gabriel’s computer chimed.
“What now?”
He opened another recovered file from Emma’s recipe-book codes.
A trust document appeared.
Emma had amended it two weeks before her death.
Her twelve-percent interest in James Maritime and several other legitimate holdings had been placed in trust for Alex.
I knew that.
What I did not know was the final clause.
If I died before Alex turned twenty-one, interim voting control would pass to his godfather.
Sebastian Cole.
I stared.
Emma had signed it years earlier.
Before she suspected him.
Gabriel looked at me.
“If something happened to you…”
“Sebastian controls Alex’s shares.”
“And combined with the stock he secretly bought through shell companies…”
Gabriel ran the numbers.
Then looked up.
“He would control the company.”
The theft.
Emma’s death.
Alex’s silence.
Suddenly they were not separate crimes.
They were steps.
And Sebastian had only one step left.
May you like
Me.
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