Chapter 3 - Project WidowVivienne refused to speak without her attorney.
Rowan didn’t blame her.
Not anymore.
By midnight, his understanding of the situation had changed completely.
Vivienne might be involved.
She might also be a hostage.
The file from Room 914 suggested both possibilities simultaneously.
It included payments into accounts connected to her personal foundation.
It also contained surveillance photographs of her younger brother, Noah, outside his rehabilitation clinic in Colorado.
Beside the photographs someone had written:
Compliance assurance.
Detective Bell ordered Vivienne placed under protective watch.
When officers entered the bridal suite, they found her sitting on the bathroom floor with mascara streaked down her face and her wedding dress hanging six feet away like a ghost.
Rowan stood in the doorway.
She looked up.
“You found the room.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes closed.
“How long have you known?”
“Three weeks.”
Julia inhaled sharply.
Rowan remained still.
“Three weeks?”
Vivienne nodded.
“My father showed me photographs of Noah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because the next photograph was of your mother.”
Rowan’s expression hardened.
“Vivienne—”
“They knew her morning route. Her driver. Her physical therapist. The coffee shop she stops at every Wednesday. They sent me a picture taken through the window of her bedroom.”
Rowan said nothing.
“They said one warning would become one funeral.”
“Who is they?”
“My father.”
The words barely came out.
“And Grant.”
Julia stared at her.
“You’re saying your own father threatened Rowan’s mother?”
Vivienne gave a broken laugh.
“My father has threatened everyone I ever loved whenever love became inconvenient.”
“Why?”
“Because Rowan has something.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
“What?”
“They called it the Meridian Archive.”
Nobody spoke.
Vivienne looked at Rowan.
“So it exists.”
“That isn’t your concern.”
“It became my concern when my father told me I had to marry you, get access to your trust authorization, and sign an emergency spousal proxy after the ceremony.”
Rowan understood.
The 5:10 signature.
The 5:40 transfer.
“Then the staged assault?”
Vivienne shook her head.
“That wasn’t the original plan.”
“What was?”
“They wanted you arrested after the wedding for attacking me. During the confusion, Grant was supposed to move you to a private medical facility because you’d appear intoxicated and unstable.”
“Drugged?”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
Vivienne swallowed.
“You were supposed to survive.”
“Supposed to?”
“That’s what they told me.”
Rowan’s voice hardened.
“What did the real plan say?”
“I don’t know. I swear.”
He studied her.
There had been a time when he could tell when Vivienne lied.
Or believed he could.
Now every memory felt contaminated.
“How long were you with me because of them?”
Vivienne’s face crumpled.
“The first dinner.”
Rowan went completely still.
“Three years ago?”
“My father arranged it.”
“So all of this—”
“No.”
She rose.
“The introduction was arranged. The relationship wasn’t.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“But it’s true.”
“You accepted a proposal.”
“Because I loved you.”
“You planned to sign a document that would destroy me.”
“Because I was trying to keep your mother alive.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes!”
She shouted it.
Then covered her mouth.
Her shoulders shook.
“I was terrified.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Detective Bell interrupted.
“We need something actionable. Names. Accounts. Locations.”
Vivienne wiped her face.
“My father’s chief of staff, Everett Sloan. Grant Keller. A private investigator named Damon Pike.”
“Amani?”
“She was supposed to be a witness.”
“What kind?”
Vivienne looked at the floor.
“She was supposed to say she heard Rowan threatening me before the ceremony.”
Amani stood outside the doorway.
Everyone turned.
Officer Chen had brought her upstairs.
Amani’s expression was icy.
“You offered me eighty thousand dollars.”
Vivienne closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“You told me it was because your fiancé was dangerous.”
“I was told to tell you that.”
“You said women protect women.”
“I’m sorry.”
Amani stepped closer.
“My mother died cleaning hotel rooms.”
Vivienne flinched.
“She spent twenty years being treated like she was invisible. You looked me in the eye and assumed eighty thousand dollars would make me become exactly what rich people think workers like me are.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Amani’s voice trembled.
“I almost took it.”
Silence.
She continued.
“My brother needs surgery. Insurance rejected part of it. Eighty thousand dollars looked like a miracle.”
Rowan watched her.
“What changed your mind?”
“Luis.”
“The maintenance supervisor?”
“He found me crying in the service stairwell after Ms. Cross made the offer.”
Amani looked at Vivienne.
“I didn’t tell him details. Just that somebody wanted me to lie for money.”
“And he knew?”
“He said, ‘Whatever they offered, don’t touch it.’”
Amani wiped her eyes.
“The next day he disappeared.”
Police had already begun searching for Luis Ortega.
His wife said he never came home Saturday.
His car had been found at O’Hare Airport, but he had not boarded a flight.
Amani believed he was dead.
Rowan wasn’t ready to assume that.
“What exactly did Luis tell you?”
“That hotel security had been installing equipment that wasn’t part of the normal system. Private cameras. Signal blockers. He thought somebody was preparing for tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t he go to police?”
“He said he did.”
Detective Bell frowned.
“When?”
“Saturday morning.”
“Which station?”
“Central district.”
Bell called.
Five minutes later, his expression turned grim.
“No report.”
Amani nodded.
“That’s what scared him.”
Bell asked dispatch to check visitor footage and internal logs.
While police worked, Rowan sat across from Vivienne.
“When is your father expecting the proxy?”
“Immediately after the marriage license signing.”
“Who prepares it?”
“Everett.”
“What does it authorize?”
“Temporary control of selected Hale assets in the event you become medically incapacitated.”
“And what does your father believe the archive contains?”
“Proof that his donors rigged transportation bids.”
“It contains more.”
Vivienne stared.
“How much more?”
“Enough to send people to prison.”
Her face drained.
“That’s why.”
“Why what?”
“He changed the plan.”
Rowan leaned forward.
“What do you mean?”
“At first, I was told you’d be discredited. Arrested. Forced to resign from Hale Meridian.”
She looked toward the wedding gown.
“Two days ago, my father told me something strange.”
“What?”
“He said after tomorrow, I would never have to be afraid of you again.”
“I thought he meant prison.”
“Now?”
Vivienne’s eyes filled.
“Now I think he meant you wouldn’t be alive.”
Officer Chen entered.
“We found Luis.”
Amani stood so fast her chair fell.
“Where?”
“Northwestern Memorial.”
Everyone stared.
“He was admitted Sunday as an unidentified hit-and-run victim.”
“Alive?”
“Barely.”
Amani began crying with relief.
Bell grabbed his coat.
“We’re going.”
Rowan started after him.
“No.”
Bell blocked him.
“You are potentially a target.”
“So is Luis.”
“Which is exactly why you stay somewhere secure.”
Rowan laughed without humor.
“Grant Keller designed most of my security.”
Bell stopped.
That fact changed everything.
Rowan’s homes.
Vehicles.
Office.
Safe rooms.
Routes.
Keller knew them all.
“Then where do you suggest?” Rowan asked.
Bell looked at Amani.
Amani understood instantly.
“No.”
Everyone turned to her.
“No what?”
“You’re thinking of hiding him somewhere nobody associated with him.”
Bell nodded.
“That would be ideal.”
Amani folded her arms.
“You’re not putting a billionaire in my apartment.”
For the first time that night, Rowan nearly smiled.
“I wouldn’t fit?”
“You would fit. Your ego wouldn’t.”
Julia actually laughed.
The sound broke the tension.
Bell’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression hardened.
“What happened?”
“The hospital.”
Amani’s smile vanished.
“What about it?”
“Someone tried to enter Luis Ortega’s room using federal credentials.”
“Who?”
“They disappeared when officers challenged them.”
Rowan looked at Vivienne.
Vivienne whispered one word.
“Grant.”
Bell shook his head.
“Hospital security got a photograph.”
He turned his phone.
The man in the image was not Grant Keller.
Rowan recognized him anyway.
Everett Sloan.
Senator Cross’s chief of staff.
Vivienne whispered, “Oh God.”
Bell’s phone buzzed again.
A second photograph.
This time from a traffic camera outside the hospital.
Sloan was climbing into a black SUV.
In the passenger seat sat Malcolm Cross.
Vivienne’s father.
And behind the wheel was Grant Keller.
All three men were together.
Rowan stared at the image.
Then at Vivienne.
“How much time until they realize the police found Room 914?”
She looked at the clock.
“They already know.”
Amani’s phone suddenly vibrated.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
A photograph appeared.
Her twelve-year-old brother Micah.
Walking out of their apartment building.
Taken seconds ago.
May you like
Underneath were six words.
Bring Hale to us before midnight.
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