Chapter 8 — You Dont Owe Me Trust #2
“That’s why I didn’t come to your room last night.
Because if I had, you’d think I owe you something.
Care. Affection. Emotional protection. And I can’t give you that.
I can give you your brother’s freedom. I can give you Richard Hale’s head.
But don’t ask me to give you something I watched destroy the only person I ever loved. ”
Elena didn’t respond. She just stared at me with an expression I couldn’t read. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t anger. It was something close to understanding, and that scared me more than any judgment would have.
“You think you’re protecting me from you,” she said finally, her voice low. “But maybe you’re just protecting yourself from finding out that not everyone is your father.”
I parked in the private underground garage of Sterling Plaza. I killed the engine, plunging us into subterranean silence.
“We’re here,” I announced, ending the conversation.
The vulnerability had lasted exactly as long as the drive.
Now we needed to be soldiers. “From this moment on, you’re just the translator.
I’m the boss. Don’t look at me too long.
Don’t touch your neck where the mark is.
And for God’s sake, don’t act like you trust me when Richard’s around. ”
“Why not?”
“Because if you look like you trust me, he’ll know we’re together. He needs to believe you hate me. That you’re bound to me by contract and desperation.”
Elena unbuckled her seatbelt. She leaned toward me, her face inches from mine. Her scent filled the car, cutting through the smell of leather and gasoline.
“That won’t be hard, Gabriel,” she said, her eyes cold. “After what you just told me in the car... pretending I hate you is going to be the easiest part of my day.”
She opened the door and got out, slamming it behind her.
I sat there for a moment, watching her walk toward the private elevator, back straight, head held high.
She was lying. I knew she was. But it was a useful lie. It was the armor she needed to survive the next few hours.
I got out and straightened my jacket. The game had begun.
The Moretti & Hale office on the fourteenth floor was in full swing. Phones ringing, assistants rushing past with folders, the smell of fresh coffee and ambition in the air.
When we walked in, the shift in atmosphere was palpable. Heads turned. Whispers started.
Elena walked beside me, one step behind, in the proper subordinate position. But there was a tension in her, a vibration that radiated danger.
Richard Hale was waiting in my office.
He was sitting in my chair, reading a document, feet propped on my desk. A classic display of territorial dominance.
“Good morning, Gabriel,” he said, flashing that shark smile that showed too many teeth and no soul. “And Miss Walsh. I’m glad to see the... isolated... weekend was productive.”
He emphasized the word isolated with subtle lewdness, his eyes traveling over Elena from head to toe, stopping, inevitably, on her turtleneck.
I felt the urge to smash his teeth in with the crystal base of my fountain pen. I controlled myself.
“It was very productive, Richard,” I replied, walking to the desk and waiting in silence until he took his feet down and stood.
He rose, but didn’t back away. We stood face to face, two predators sharing a cage that had grown too small.
“The prosecution is getting impatient,” Richard said, lowering his voice. “They sent a formal notification this morning. They want to interview all the third-party contractors who worked on the Vanguard case over the last three months. That includes your... protégée here.”
He gestured toward Elena, who stood near the door, clutching her briefcase like a shield.
“I’ll handle the prosecution,” I said, rounding the desk and taking my rightful place. “Elena is under extended attorney-client privilege due to the sensitive nature of the translations.”
“Ah, of course. Privilege.” Richard laughed. He walked over to Elena, stopping too close. I saw her shoulders tense, but she didn’t back away. “You know, Elena... Gabriel is very good at protecting his interests. But sometimes his interests shift very quickly.”
Elena looked at Richard. Then at me.
I kept my face blank. Cold. Distant. I couldn’t give her any sign of support. She had to be alone in this.
“I’m aware of the nature of my contract, Mr. Hale,” she replied, her voice steady.
“I’m sure you are.” Richard leaned in, whispering something in her ear that I couldn’t hear, but I saw the reaction. Elena went pale. Her hand flew to her neck, covering the mark beneath the fabric.
Richard stepped back, smiling with satisfaction.
“Well, I'll leave you two to work. I've got a lunch with the folks from Vanguard. They're... eager for updates.”
He left the room, trailing expensive cologne and menace.
As soon as the door closed, Elena released the breath she'd been holding. She looked like she was about to collapse.
“What did he say?” I asked, without getting up.
Elena looked at me, her eyes wide with real fear.
“He said, 'Watch your neck, sweetheart. Gabriel likes to play with his food before tossing it aside, but I prefer to swallow whole.'”
I clenched my fists on the desk, feeling my blood boil. Richard had seen. Or guessed. He knew there was something physical between us and was using it to destabilize her.
“He took the bait,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. “He thinks you're just a toy I'm using. He thinks you're vulnerable.”
“I am vulnerable, Gabriel!” she exploded, storming to my desk and planting her hands on it. “He knows about us. He knows about the mark!”
“There is no 'us,' Elena.” I stood, facing her. “There's the plan. And the plan is working. Now he'll try to approach you alone. He'll try to offer you protection against me. He'll try to turn you into a witness against my 'misconduct.'”
“And what do I do?”
“You agree to listen.” I leaned across the desk until we were face to face. “You let him believe you're betraying me. You set up a meeting with him. And you record everything.”
“You want me to wear a wire?” She let out a hysterical laugh. “This isn't a cop movie, Gabriel! If he finds out...”
“If he finds out, I'll be listening.” I opened the drawer and pulled out a small black device, the size of a button. “This transmits audio in real time to my phone. I'll be thirty feet away. Always.”
I held out the device to her.
“You don't owe me trust, Elena,” I repeated the words I'd used in the car. “But you owe your brother's life to this operation. Take it.”
She looked at the device. Looked at me. There was hatred in her eyes now. Pure, clear hatred, born from the feeling of being used.
Good. The hatred would keep her alert. The hatred would make her convincing to Richard.
She took the device from my hand, her cold fingers brushing mine.
“I hope you know what you're doing, Gabriel,” she hissed. “Because if I go down... I guarantee I'm taking you with me.”
I smiled, feeling a stab of perverse pride. She was learning. She wasn't asking for salvation anymore. She was making threats.
“That's exactly what I expect from you, Elena.”
I sat back down and opened my laptop.
“Now get out. Go to your desk in the hallway. And wait for his invitation. He won't take long.”
Elena spun on her heel and left, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass.
I sat alone in the silence of the office.
The trap was set. The bait was in place.
But as I stared at the closed door, the image of my mother dying in a public hospital bed overlaid the image of Elena walking out to face a monster.
I told her I didn't love her. Told her I owed her nothing.
But the truth—the terrible truth I was hiding even from myself—was that I'd crossed the line from “asset” a long time ago.
If Richard touched her... the recording would be the least of his worries. Because I wouldn't use the law to destroy him. I'd use my own hands.
And God have mercy on my soul, because I was looking forward to it.