Chapter 10 – Morgan #2
The bitter truth sat like lead in my stomach. She'd designed her security specifically to keep people like me out, and she was fucking brilliant at it. Any attempt to breach her system would be detected within seconds, traced back to its source within minutes.
She'd know someone tried to break in. And she'd know exactly who.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but I already knew it was hopeless. Even if I could somehow get past her initial defenses. Which was doubtful, she'd have alerts and tripwires throughout the system. The moment I touched anything sensitive, alarms would start screaming.
And then she'd trace it back here. To me.
The thought sent conflicting emotions through my chest. Part of me wanted her to find out, wanted the decision taken out of my hands. But not like this. Not through betrayal and violation of trust.
If Morgan finds out I'm alive, it should be from me. Not from Gwen tracking down a cybercriminal.
I pushed back from the desk, running my hands through my hair in frustration. The files I needed were right there, probably containing everything Francois had promised, and I couldn't touch them without blowing my cover completely.
Without revealing that I'm alive.
And if Gwen knew, then Atticus would know. And if Atticus knew...
Morgan would know.
But she'd know in the worst possible way. As a lie exposed, a deception unraveled. Not as a reunion, but as a betrayal.
There has to be another way.
I closed the connection to Gwen's system without even attempting to breach it. Whatever the Monserrat file contained, if it even existed, whatever evidence our mother had gathered, it would have to wait until I could figure out how to access Gwen’s system.
That would only be possible if I could access her computers. Which meant going back to Gwen and Atticus’s. Or getting my old laptop.
But while I had a secret way into the penthouse, the loft was too exposed. Much harder to get into. I’d bought the place for the three garage exits. But an approach on foot would be much more difficult.
I was staring at the blank screens, trying to figure out my next move, when I heard the front door of the safe house open. Heavy footsteps in the hallway, moving with purpose.
Hector.
Hopefully with good news.
"Lance." Hector's voice from the doorway, grim and tight. "We need to talk."
That doesn't sound good.
I turned around, taking in his expression. Tight lips, furrowed brow. Someone had pissed in his cornflakes.
"What happened?"
"I heard back from my contact at NYPD." Hector moved into the room, closing the door behind him. "About the mugging."
Fuck.
The mugging that I'd fucked up our operational security to prevent.
"And?" I went for nonchalant.
"The kid, who mugged your wife. Danny Torrino. He's not just some random street dealer."
Of course he wasn’t because why would shit be easy.
I'd suspected as much from the moment Hector told me about the probe, but hearing it confirmed still sent ice through my veins.
"What is he?"
"Low-level associate. Runs errands, moves packages, that sort of thing." Hector sat down in the chair across from my desk. "But Lance, he doesn't work for just anyone."
Please don't say what I think you're going to say.
"He works for grandfather's people. And now grandfather knows someone with DuLac training protected her." Hector's expression was grim. "He'll know it was me - which means my cover is completely blown."
Fuck.
The blood drained from my face. "Grandfather sent him?"
"Not directly. But yeah, the order came from high enough up the food chain that it might as well have been grandfather himself."
“If he thinks you’ve turned, you might protect my widow. Or if he knows about that little game from last year where you posed as her mentor. He thinks you want her.”
Hector winced. “You stalk and mentor a girl one time…”
"Whatever game he's playing, Morgan is in the middle of it. And she might not even know she's at risk."
Because I can't tell her without revealing that I'm alive.
"So what are you suggesting?"
That I stop hiding. That I tell her the truth and deal with the consequences.
"You're talking about going back to her," he said finally.
Yes.
"I'm talking about protecting my wife. You might be blown. If you are, she needs to know just how much danger she’s in. Me staying dead isn’t helping."
"She's not your wife anymore—"
"Don't." The word came out like a whip crack. "Don't you dare tell me she's not my wife. Dead or alive, she's mine, and I'll be damned if I let grandfather use her as a pawn in whatever sick game he's playing."
Mine. And I'm hers, even if she doesn't know it.
"And if revealing yourself gets her killed?"
“He’s already coming for her. For you.”
The risk of her getting hurt because I stayed hidden might be greater than the risk of her getting hurt because I revealed myself.
Because you don't know. You can't know.
"We'll be smart about it," I said instead. "Careful. We'll have contingencies in place."
"Lance." Hector stood up, moving closer. "I understand why you want to do this. But if you're wrong, if this backfires—"
"If I'm wrong, at least I'll go down fighting for something that matters."
For someone who matters.
For the only thing that's ever really mattered.
"What about the Monserrat file?"
"We keep looking. But we don't let that search prevent us from protecting Morgan in the meantime."
Because all the evidence in the world won't matter if she was dead.
"How do you want to play this?"
“Can you continue acting like you’re the loyal soldier?” I might have hated him at one point. I didn’t trust him fully. But I still didn’t want him dead.
He narrowed a shrewd gaze on me. “You worry about yourself. I know how to handle the old man. In the meantime, can you get your old laptop?”
“It’ll be tricky. But not impossible.”
“Figure it out. The longer we can go without alerting anybody, the better.”
I thought about it, running scenarios in my head. Direct approach versus gradual revelation. Truth versus partial truth. Risk versus reward.
All roads lead to the same place eventually.
"First, we’ll do it your way. If that fails, I'm going to tell her I'm alive."