Chapter 3 - The Ledger Her Mother Died to HideNadia did not go home with Julian.
That decision surprised everyone except Nadia.
Rafael had quietly positioned himself beside the Escalade after the police finished their preliminary questions.
Julian waited on the sidewalk.
Nadia called a taxi.
Julian stared at the approaching car.
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
“You have an armed security team available.”
“I also have twenty-seven dollars and an app.”
“Nadia.”
“Julian.”
The taxi stopped.
He moved closer.
“At least let Rafael follow you.”
She looked at Rafael.
Rafael lifted both hands.
“I’m Switzerland.”
“You carry three guns.”
“Very heavily armed Switzerland.”
Nadia nearly smiled.
Nearly.
“Fine. He can follow.”
Julian nodded.
“And where are you going?”
“My apartment.”
“You haven’t slept there in months.”
“It’s still mine.”
“Nadia—”
“I need somewhere that doesn’t belong to you.”
The words hit.
She saw them hit.
Julian concealed it quickly, but not quickly enough.
He stepped back.
“All right.”
That made leaving harder.
She had expected an argument.
Control.
A command.
Instead, he opened the taxi door.
“Call me if you need anything.”
Nadia entered.
“I needed the truth.”
Julian closed the door.
The taxi pulled away.
She did not look back until they reached the intersection.
He was still standing there.
That night, Nadia opened the cardboard box she had carried through eleven foster homes.
There was almost nothing inside.
A photograph with half the image burned away.
Three birthday cards.
A child’s plastic bracelet from Lincoln Park Zoo.
A school report.
A blue knitted scarf.
And the silver chain.
Nadia had forgotten she still owned it.
The pendant itself had disappeared years ago.
But the chain remained.
She sat cross-legged on the floor.
Her apartment felt smaller than she remembered.
For months, she had slowly migrated into Julian’s world without consciously deciding to.
A toothbrush.
A drawer.
Then two.
A favorite mug.
A book beside his bed.
Her shampoo in his shower.
Ordinary objects had made intimacy feel less frightening.
Now they made her furious.
Her phone vibrated.
JULIAN.
She ignored it.
Again.
Ignored.
Then Rafael.
She answered.
“If he put you up to this—”
“He didn’t.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because someone broke into the records warehouse that stored your foster files.”
Nadia stood.
“When?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
“What did they take?”
“Only your records.”
Her anger cooled into something else.
Fear.
“Where are you?”
“Outside.”
She walked to the window.
Rafael stood beside a black sedan.
Of course.
“You said you’d follow me.”
“I’m very literal.”
Nadia closed her eyes.
“Come up.”
Three minutes later Rafael entered carrying two coffees and a laptop.
“You always bring coffee to crime scenes?”
“Your apartment isn’t a crime scene yet.”
“Comforting.”
“Boss says I need to work on reassurance.”
Nadia sat.
“Stop calling him boss for five minutes.”
“That might be medically impossible.”
He opened the laptop.
A scanned photograph appeared.
Nadia recognized herself.
Six years old.
Too thin.
Blond hair.
Huge eyes.
A social worker’s hand rested on her shoulder.
The document beneath it contained a name.
NADIA EVELYN ASHFORD.
Nadia touched the screen.
“I haven’t seen this name since I was a kid.”
Rafael remained quiet.
“Why was I told my mother died?”
“The official report says Evelyn Ashford died in a house fire outside Evanston.”
“Body?”
“Never positively identified.”
“Julian knew that?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Rafael.
“How much does he know?”
“Enough to be afraid.”
“Julian isn’t afraid.”
Rafael laughed once.
“You’ve known him romantically for a few months. I’ve known him since we were teenagers.”
His expression became serious.
“Julian Voss is terrified.”
“Of Sloane?”
“Of losing you.”
“That’s not romantic right now.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
Rafael turned the laptop.
A second photograph appeared.
Three people stood outside a warehouse.
A young Julian.
Maybe twenty-one.
A much younger Rafael.
And a woman.
Nadia stopped breathing.
The woman had her eyes.
Not similar.
The same.
“Evelyn,” Rafael said.
Nadia touched the photograph.
“My mother knew Julian?”
“Yes.”
“He said she built the financial architecture.”
“She did more than that.”
“What?”
Rafael hesitated.
Nadia’s gaze hardened.
“Don’t become another man protecting me with silence.”
That landed.
Rafael nodded.
“Fair.”
He sat back.
“Evelyn saved Julian’s life.”
Nadia stared.
“How?”
“Julian’s father, Adrian Voss, ran the organization before him. Adrian was…”
Rafael searched for a diplomatic word.
Then abandoned the attempt.
“A monster.”
Nadia waited.
“Julian grew up in it. Violence. Punishment. Loyalty tests. His father believed fear was education.”
Something in Nadia’s chest tightened.
Julian rarely discussed childhood.
“When Julian was twenty-one, he tried to leave.”
“What happened?”
“Adrian ordered him killed.”
Nadia’s eyes widened.
“His own son?”
“Blood means less than power to some men.”
Rafael pointed toward Evelyn.
“Your mother discovered the order. She falsified financial records, moved money, paid two gunmen to disappear, and hid Julian for three weeks.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn believed he could become something better than Adrian.”
Nadia almost laughed at the irony.
“She saved a mafia heir?”
“She saved a twenty-one-year-old kid.”
Rafael paused.
“There’s a difference.”
Nadia stared at the photograph.
Julian looked almost unrecognizable.
Thin.
Angry.
Young.
Evelyn stood beside him with one hand on his shoulder.
“She knew me?”
“Julian?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“How can you know?”
“Because Evelyn never told him she had a daughter.”
“Why?”
“That’s what we never understood.”
Nadia stood and paced.
“So four months ago he discovered that the woman he was sleeping with was the daughter of the woman who saved his life.”
“You weren’t sleeping together four months ago.”
Nadia stopped.
Rafael cleared his throat.
“Sorry.”
“Not important.”
“Very.”
She glared.
He looked back at the laptop.
“Julian discovered your identity because Colton’s background investigation uncovered the Vera Ashworth alias. From there, we found the foster records.”
“And Julian kept it from me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you agree?”
“No.”
Nadia looked at him.
Rafael shrugged.
“I told him it would explode.”
“What did he say?”
“That he’d rather have you hate him alive than love him dead.”
The room became quiet.
Nadia looked away.
That sounded exactly like Julian.
Stupid.
Protective.
Arrogant.
Terrified.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Rafael’s hand moved immediately toward his weapon.
“Don’t.”
“Nadia—”
She answered.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
“You look exactly like Evelyn.”
Nadia froze.
Rafael was already tracing the call.
“Who is this?”
“My name is Claire.”
“Claire what?”
“Claire Ashford.”
Nadia gripped the phone.
“That’s my mother’s surname.”
“Yes.”
“Who are you?”
A pause.
“Her sister.”
Nadia sat down hard.
“My aunt?”
“If you need the word.”
“Where have you been?”
“Surviving.”
Rafael mouthed: KEEP HER TALKING.
Nadia ignored him.
“Is my mother alive?”
Silence.
“Claire.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then why call me?”
“Because Victor Sloane found you.”
“He left a corpse in my bakery.”
“I know.”
“Who was the man?”
“Thomas Bell. He worked for me.”
“You sent him?”
“I sent him to warn you.”
“He died.”
“I know.”
Claire’s voice cracked for the first time.
Nadia’s anger shifted.
“What does Sloane want?”
“The ledger.”
“I don’t have it.”
“He believes Evelyn gave it to you.”
“I was six.”
“He doesn’t care.”
Nadia looked at Rafael.
His fingers flew across the keyboard.
“Where are you?”
“Not somewhere I can stay.”
“Then tell me where to meet.”
Rafael shook his head violently.
Nadia ignored him.
Claire laughed softly.
“You really are Evelyn’s daughter.”
“Stop saying that like it means something.”
“It means you run toward answers even when every sensible instinct says run away.”
“Where?”
A long pause.
“Union Station. Tomorrow. Noon. Great Hall.”
“Why there?”
“Crowds.”
“And if this is a trap?”
“Bring Julian Voss.”
Nadia’s expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Because if Sloane comes for you, Julian is the only man in Chicago he might hesitate to challenge directly.”
The call disconnected.
Rafael looked at his laptop.
“Burner. Signal bounced through four towers. Professional.”
Nadia stood.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“You know, I understand why Julian looks exhausted all the time now.”
She grabbed her coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To see him.”
Rafael blinked.
“That was fast.”
“I’m still angry.”
“Good. He deserves it.”
“But if someone is trying to kill me over a ledger I’ve never seen, being angry from separate buildings seems inefficient.”
Rafael closed the laptop.
“I like you.”
“Drive.”
Twenty minutes later, Nadia entered Julian’s penthouse.
He was standing beside the windows.
He had not changed clothes.
A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table.
He turned.
For a moment neither spoke.
Nadia crossed the room.
“Claire Ashford called me.”
Julian’s expression changed instantly.
“You spoke to Claire?”
“You know her too?”
“Only by reputation.”
“She wants to meet tomorrow.”
“No.”
Nadia stared.
Julian sighed.
“Sorry.”
“Try again.”
“I think meeting her is dangerous.”
“Better.”
“I also know you’re going regardless.”
“Much better.”
Julian approached slowly.
“Nadia, I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought knowledge would put you in danger.”
“It did anyway.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to decide which truths I’m strong enough to survive.”
“No.”
“And if this relationship continues, you never do that again.”
Julian held her gaze.
“Agreed.”
“No technicalities.”
“Agreed.”
“No ‘I didn’t lie, I simply omitted.’”
His mouth twitched.
“That sounds like something I would say.”
“It does.”
“Then agreed.”
Nadia looked at him.
“You really knew my mother?”
“Briefly.”
“She saved you.”
Julian’s expression softened.
“Rafael talks too much.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because then I would have had to tell you what happened afterward.”
Nadia felt cold.
“What happened?”
Julian walked toward a locked cabinet.
He entered a code.
Inside were files.
He removed an old photograph.
Evelyn stood beside a black sedan.
A man was beside her.
Victor Sloane.
“They were partners,” Julian said.
“In what?”
“Building the ledger.”
Nadia looked up.
“You said she created it to destroy them.”
“She did.”
“Then why is Sloane in the picture?”
“Because Victor Sloane wasn’t her enemy at first.”
Julian’s voice became quiet.
“He was her lover.”
Nadia stared.
“My father?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Then who was?”
May you like
Julian looked at the photograph.
“That is the question Evelyn killed three men to keep unanswered.”
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