The problem with Victoria Moreau
Chapter 37: The Problem With Victoria Moreau
The problem with Victoria Moreau was that she didn't fit.
Not as an assassin.
Not as a spy.
Not as an enemy.
Nothing about her fit neatly into a category.
And Amara hated categories that didn't make sense.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Three hours after leaving the hotel restaurant, she was still thinking about it.
The betrayal.
The mysterious-woman betrayal.
Undefeated.
Amara sat inside her office reviewing patient charts.
Or at least pretending to.
The same chart had been open for twenty minutes.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
A knock interrupted her suffering.
"Come in."
The door opened.
One of her nurses stepped inside.
Immediately freezing.
A bad sign.
A very bad sign.
Amara looked up.
"What."
The nurse pointed toward the waiting room.
Nervously.
"There are flowers."
Silence.
Immediate silence.
Amara blinked.
Once.
Slowly.
"What."
The nurse swallowed.
Hard.
"A lot of flowers."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Five minutes later, Amara discovered what "a lot" meant.
The entire reception area looked like a botanical garden.
Roses.
Lilies.
Orchids.
Peonies.
Flowers everywhere.
The betrayal.
The floral betrayal.
Undefeated.
Patients stared.
Nurses stared.
Receptionists stared.
Everyone stared.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Amara looked at the attached card.
Then immediately regretted it.
I was told women like flowers. - Lorenzo
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The audacity.
The complete audacity.
One receptionist laughed.
Immediately.
The poor woman stopped when Amara looked at her.
Reasonable.
Very reasonable.
Unfortunately...
The corner of Amara's mouth twitched.
Just slightly.
The traitor.
The complete traitor.
Her phone buzzed.
Lorenzo.
Of course.
Did they arrive?
Amara stared at the message.
Then at the flowers.
Then back at the message.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
You bought an entire greenhouse.
Three dots appeared instantly.
I showed restraint.
Silence.
The audacity.
Undefeated.
Before she could respond, another nurse rushed toward her.
Breathing hard.
Concerned.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"Dr. Queen."
Amara frowned.
"What."
The nurse held out a small envelope.
Unlike the flowers...
This one had no name.
No markings.
Nothing.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The atmosphere shifted immediately.
Because everyone recognized anonymous packages now.
A recurring problem.
A very recurring problem.
Amara opened the envelope.
Inside sat a single photograph.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The flowers disappeared.
The room disappeared.
Everything disappeared.
Because the photograph showed her.
Standing in the hotel restaurant.
Speaking with Victoria.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Written across the bottom was a short message.
You're beginning to ask the right questions.
The handwriting was elegant.
Familiar.
Victoria.
Immediately.
The betrayal.
The cryptic-message betrayal.
Undefeated.
Amara stared.
Then stared harder.
Because something about the note felt wrong.
Not threatening.
Not intimidating.
Almost...
Encouraging.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Across the city, Victoria Moreau sat inside a private lounge overlooking Lake Michigan.
A glass of wine rested untouched beside her.
Her attention remained fixed on a file.
Specifically...
A psychological profile.
Dr. Amara Queen.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Victoria smiled.
Slowly.
Because every report said the same thing.
Brilliant.
Focused.
Protective.
Obsessive when interested.
The last part fascinated her.
A lot.
Because Amara was becoming interested.
Exactly as planned.
The realization pleased her.
Unfortunately...
Something else had happened too.
Something unexpected.
Something dangerous.
Victoria genuinely liked her.
The betrayal.
The professional-boundary betrayal.
Undefeated.
A phone rang.
Immediately.
Victoria answered.
Without looking away from the file.
"Yes."
Silence.
The caller spoke.
Briefly.
Professionally.
Dangerously.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Victoria's smile vanished.
Immediately.
Because the information wasn't good.
Not at all.
"How many?"
Silence.
Another answer.
Victoria leaned back.
Slowly.
Thoughtfully.
Dangerously.
"I see."
The call ended.
The specialist looked out across the city.
Toward the skyline.
Toward the empire Lorenzo controlled.
Toward the clinic Amara had built.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because Viktor Romano had just made a decision.
A very stupid decision.
A very desperate decision.
And desperate men never understood consequences until it was too late.
Victoria closed the file.
Then stood.
Immediately.
For the first time since arriving in Chicago...
The specialist looked worried.
Not for herself.
Not for the mission.
For Amara.
Because Viktor Romano had finally stopped listening.
And when dying kings stopped listening...
People got hurt.
End Chapter 37