CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
“Cracks.”
By Monday morning, Lena's disappearance had become front-page news.
News vans lined the street outside her apartment building.
Reporters crowded the pavement.
Neighbours who had barely spoken to her while she was alive now stood in front of cameras claiming they knew exactly who she was.
Malik hated every second of it.
He switched off the television.
"They've turned her into a headline."
Marcus stood near the window.
"They'll turn you into one next."
Bellamy & Co. was unusually quiet.
Camille had asked reception to refuse all media enquiries.
No interviews.
No comments.
No photographs.
Still, Zara could feel eyes following her whenever she left the office.
At lunchtime, Naomi joined her in the staff kitchen.
"You've hardly eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't been sleeping either."
Zara smiled weakly.
"I'll catch up."
Naomi didn't look convinced.
"You know..."
"What?"
"You don't have to be strong every minute of every day."
Zara looked down into her coffee.
"I know."
"But if I stop..."
She couldn't finish the sentence.
Naomi reached across and squeezed her hand.
"You won't fall apart."
"And if you do..."
"You won't do it alone."
That evening, Malik arrived home carrying takeaway.
Neither of them felt like cooking anymore.
The apartment, once full of laughter, had become quieter over the past week.
Not unhappy.
Just... heavier.
As they ate, Zara finally broke the silence.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You don't have to ask permission."
She took a breath.
"Atlanta."
He looked at her.
"You said your father still lives there."
"He does."
"Do you think Devon has something to do with him?"
Malik frowned.
"I don't know."
"You've never mentioned him before."
"Because I spent years pretending he didn't exist."
He pushed his food aside.
"My father built businesses the same way he built relationships."
"Control first."
"Everything else second."
"And when I started working for Devon..."
He stopped himself.
Zara looked up.
"You've never told me how you met Devon."
"I haven't."
"Maybe it's time."
Malik leaned back in his chair.
"I was twenty."
"I'd left Atlanta."
"I thought New York was going to make me somebody."
He laughed without humour.
"It did."
"Just not the person I wanted to become."
He explained how he'd arrived with almost nothing.
How he'd worked security jobs.
How money had become more important than morals.
How Devon had spotted a young man who was angry enough to do almost anything.
"I wasn't forced."
Malik said quietly.
"I made my own choices."
"I own that."
Zara listened without interrupting.
"Did your father know?"
Malik nodded.
"He admired Devon."
"He thought Devon was successful."
"He told me..."
Malik's jaw tightened.
"...that men like Devon didn't apologise."
"They won."
The room fell silent.
Finally, Zara reached across the table.
"I'm glad you proved him wrong."
He looked at her.
"I haven't finished proving it yet."
Across town, Detective Alvarez sat in a cramped incident room surrounded by photographs.
A junior officer hurried over.
"We've finished going through Lena's bank records."
"And?"
"There's something strange."
He handed her a file.
"No large withdrawals."
"No unusual spending."
"But..."
She scanned the page.
"What is it?"
"Someone's been paying her rent."
Detective Alvarez frowned.
"Who?"
The officer pointed to a company name.
Ashford Property Holdings.
Her expression hardened.
"Run the directors."
"We already did."
"And?"
"They're all fake."
She looked up.
"Follow the money."
Miles away, Devon stood in a luxury penthouse overlooking Manhattan.
One of his associates entered carrying a tablet.
"The media are running with the story."
"They've started asking whether Malik was the last person to see Lena."
Devon smiled faintly.
"Good."
"The police?"
"They're asking questions."
"They should."
He walked over to the window.
"I've waited years for this."
The associate hesitated.
"Why do you hate him this much?"
Devon was quiet for a long time.
When he finally spoke, his voice had lost all warmth.
"Because everyone thinks Malik Carter escaped."
He picked up an old photograph from the table.
Two young men.
Standing outside a nightclub.
One was Malik.
The other...
Devon.
"We both made choices."
He stared at the picture.
"But only one of us got a second chance."
Just after midnight, Malik woke to the sound of glass shattering.
He sat upright instantly.
"What was that?" Zara whispered.
Before he could answer...
The apartment alarm screamed to life.
Marcus' voice came through the intercom.
"Boss!"
"Stay inside!"
"We've got movement outside the building!"
Malik was already out of bed.
He looked through the living room window.
A black SUV accelerated away from the kerb.
Something lay on the pavement beneath the streetlight.
Police sirens echoed in the distance.
Marcus sprinted across the road and knelt beside the object.
Even from the apartment, Malik could see him freeze.
Slowly...
Marcus looked up towards the apartment.
Then back down again.
His face drained of colour.
Malik's phone rang.
He answered immediately.
"What is it?"
Marcus' voice was barely above a whisper.
"You need to come downstairs."
"What did they leave?"
There was a long pause.
When Marcus finally answered...
Malik felt the blood drain from his face.
"They left Lena's handbag."
"And..."
He swallowed.
"...there's blood on it."
End of Chapter Forty-Five