Chapter 15
Fifteen
Massimo
Harlon's voice is still in my ear when I hang up the phone. Ten days. Fix this before I have to come for her.
The temperature in my body drops so fast my fingers go numb against the phone screen. Chills spread from my chest outward until the hairs on my forearms stand straight.
I set the phone on my desk and press both palms flat against the surface, leaning forward until the wood creaks under my weight.
My office is quiet, the morning light filtering through the blinds in pale strips that cut across the stack of files I was reviewing before the call.
The espresso machine hums in the corner.
Tell her.
I should tell her. Clause thirteen exists because she demanded honesty and I meant every word I wrote.
But right now Lorenzo doesn't know I have this information.
That's leverage. If Sloane knows and reacts in any way that tips Lorenzo off, he’ll adjust his play.
I need her calm and unaware until I have a countermove ready.
I can fix this. Ten days. I have the full Syndicate resources at my fingertips. A legal mind that has never lost a case. If all goes as I plan, I'll have it resolved before Sloane needs to know it existed.
I push off the desk, grab my jacket.
The boardroom is full by the time I walk in five minutes later.
Rafael sits at the head. Drake takes his right, arms crossed, jaw set. Luca sprawls with a tablet propped against the table, three screens of data reflected in his eyes, fingers already moving. Kon sits at the far end, still as stone.
Rowan slides in two minutes late.
"I’m going to be blunt here. You all know about Sloane, Harrison and the contract he has with Lorenzo Ferraro. Luca said he filled everyone in.” I look to Luca for confirmation and then to Rafael who nods.
“Something go wrong?” he asks.
I nod. There’s no two ways of putting it.
“We have a problem." I stand at the opposite end from Rafael, both hands braced on the table.
"Lorenzo Ferraro has hired Genesis to counter the marriage contract I signed with Sloane and to enforce his.
Harlon gave me ten days. Either I turn her over or I find a way to shoot down the contract Lorenzo and Harrison signed.
He didn't spell it out, but the implication was clear. "
The room shifts. Rafael's jaw tightens. Drake uncrosses his arms. Luca's fingers pause on his tablet. Kon doesn't move but the quality of his stillness changes.
"Genesis." Rafael's voice is level. "Harlon took the contract?"
"According to Harlon it's clean. Harrison's signature and Lorenzo's. That's it. Harlon had no legal grounds to refuse so he accepted the job of enforcing it."
"Then we give him grounds." Luca leans forward, his tablet forgotten.
"The contract is clean on paper but the circumstances aren't. Harrison signed under duress, right?
Financial coercion, leveraged business records, dead man's switches on everything.
If we can prove the signatures were obtained through extortion, the contract becomes voidable. "
"Proving it is the problem. Lorenzo's father built this trap over eighteen months. The financial entanglements are layered through shell companies and offshore trusts. Untangling them in ten days requires resources we don’t have and Harlon and his crew can’t help. Their hands are tied."
"Then we mobilize some sleeping contacts we have. All we need is to get Harrison to talk. We offer him protection and he'll talk." Drake's voice rumbles through the room. "But let’s start at the top. What do you need?"
"Everything. Financial forensics on every Ferraro shell company.
Digital surveillance on Lorenzo's communications.
Physical intelligence on his movements, his meetings, his contacts.
I need to know who he talks to, who he owes, and who owes him.
From there, we can build a case that the Ferraro contract was obtained through extortion and present Harlon with grounds to void it. "
"Samuel's crew has been gathering intel for three days." Kon speaks for the first time, his deep voice carrying the faint Russian accent. "His people have eyes on Lorenzo's River North property. Two warehouses and a residential address. He'll have a full report by tomorrow."
"Good. Coordinate with Luca on data sharing, would you? Whatever Samuel's crew finds on the ground, I want it cross-referenced against the financial records. No one erases everything."
The door opens and Julian drops into the empty chair between Luca and Rowan with a tumbler of bourbon in one hand and a deck of cards in the other.
He's the youngest in this room, sharp-jawed with dark hair pushed back from his forehead and pale gray eyes that give away nothing unless he wants them to from my experience with him.
Rafael brought him into the Syndicate's orbit two years ago as an intelligence asset, and in that time the only thing I've learned about Julian Mercer is that he always knows more than he's willing to share.
And he never plays a hand without knowing every card on the table.
He's proven useful enough to earn an invitation when things get complicated and I’m assuming that is why he is here.
He sets the glass down, tilts his chair back on two legs, starts shuffling one-handed, and scans the room. "Started without me. Rude."
I grunt. “You must have a sixth sense for when trouble is brewing.”
His mouth lifts with a smirk. “That and Luca called. Somebody catch me up. Which direction is the trouble coming from?”
Rafael leans his weight forward on his elbows. "You up to speed on Massimo’s recent marriage to the Whitmore girl and why he stepped in?”
“Luca was thorough, yes.”
“Good,” I answer. “Harlon’s tipped me off that Lorenzo hired him to enforce the Harrison/Ferraro contract.”
Gray eyes turn to mine. “How long did he give you? He’s not known for his generosity with information.”
“Benefits of having a nice working relationship. And ten days,” Luca answers without turning from his screen.
"More than usual. He must like you." Julian flips a card and the ace of spades lands on top of the deck. "So we're on a clock."
"We're on a clock."
He flips another card. King of hearts. He studies it with an expression that could be amusement or calculation or both.
"I ran into a Ferraro associate last week at a poker game in River North.
Man named Giordano. Mid-level, handles logistics for the family's legitimate operations.
He was three bourbons deep and talking too much about a 'big acquisition' the family has been planning.
" Julian sets the card down and meets my eyes.
"He didn't say a name. But the way he described it, he wasn't talking about real estate.
And he wasn't talking about just one woman either. "
"Can you get back to him?"
"I can get back to anyone." He picks up his bourbon, takes a slow sip, and sets it down. His index finger taps the rim of the glass twice before he stills it. "Give me two days."
The meeting runs another forty minutes. Strategy, assignments, contingencies.
Rafael coordinates resources. Drake volunteers muscle.
Luca maps the digital landscape. Kon connects with Samuel's ground team.
Rowan offers connections I didn't know he had and doesn't explain where they came from.
Julian shuffles his cards and listens with the sharp patience of a man who plays long games.
By the time the room empties, I have the framework of a plan and the gnawing awareness that ten days is not enough time to execute it.
Luca lingers in the doorway after the others file out. His hand rests on the frame and his gold-flecked eyes hold mine with an expression I haven't seen on him before. Not playful. Not teasing. Troubled.
"There's something else." He steps back into the room and closes the door. The click of the latch sounds heavier than it should in the empty boardroom.
He pulls a manila folder from inside his jacket and sets it on the table between us. Thin. Unlabeled. The paper inside is visible through the gap at the edge.
"You're not going to like this."
I open the folder.
Photographs. Surveillance shots, grainy but clear enough.
Harrison Whitmore walking into a building I recognize from intel briefings but have never visited.
Harrison in a hallway lined with numbered doors.
Harrison seated in what looks like a private viewing room with a crystal glass in one hand and a smile I have never seen at any dinner table or boardroom meeting.
Society 69.
My hands go still on the folder. The photographs blur and sharpen as my pulse pounds behind my eyes. Harrison. My best friend of twenty years. He’s a part of the society where women are sold like cattle and he never said a word to me.
"How long has he been a part of that filthy club?" My voice comes out flat.
"The timestamps go back four years. He's not a participant, as far as I can tell. He attends the window auctions but so far he only watches and leaves. Society 69 has a word for it and it’s window shopping.”
Luca pauses. "The Ferraros have proof. Photos, entry logs, surveillance footage from inside the venue. It's part of the leverage package."
Part of the leverage. Not just financial crimes and business records.
Harrison's presence at Society 69 events is another chain, another lock, another piece of blackmail that Lorenzo's family holds over a man who is already drowning.
And if Sloane ever sees these photographs, the father who failed to protect her becomes someone she loved who sat in those rooms, watched the same system that breeds violence against women, and did nothing.
I close the folder. Press my palm flat against the manila surface and feel the photographs beneath my skin, the glossy paper warm from the overhead lights.
"Does anyone else know?"
"Just me. And now you."