Chapter 3 - Her Father Had Been Dead for Twenty Years—Until He Called HerThe call came at 2:13 in the morning.
Simone was awake.
Sleep had become something other people did.
She sat alone in the penthouse kitchen with her mother’s photograph beside a cup of untouched tea.
Adrian had given her space after the argument.
For once, she hated him for understanding exactly what she needed.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then a text appeared.
Celeste called you Birdie.
Simone stopped breathing.
Nobody knew that.
Nobody except her mother.
Birdie had been Celeste’s private name for her, born from a childhood habit Simone barely remembered—climbing furniture, windowsills, fire escapes, always trying to get higher.
Her phone rang again.
She answered.
“Who is this?”
Silence.
Then a man breathed her name.
“Simone.”
The voice was older.
Rough.
But something inside her recognized it before her mind could.
Not memory exactly.
Something deeper.
A forgotten rhythm.
“Who are you?”
“Your father.”
The room disappeared.
Simone stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“My father is dead.”
“That was the idea.”
Her hand tightened around the phone.
“You have ten seconds before I hang up.”
“I know what Celeste told you.”
“Nine.”
“I know she said I left.”
“Eight.”
“She was protecting you.”
“Seven.”
“Jonah found me six months ago.”
Simone stopped counting.
The voice continued.
“He knew about the ledger. He knew Celeste had hidden something before she died. He thought she gave it to you.”
“She didn’t.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because she gave it to someone else.”
Footsteps sounded behind Simone.
She turned.
Adrian stood in the kitchen entrance.
He saw her face.
Immediately understood something was wrong.
Simone raised one finger, warning him not to speak.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Not on the phone.”
“You expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
“I expect you to be angry. You should be.”
“You abandoned us.”
“Yes.”
“My mother died believing—”
“No.”
The word came hard.
“Your mother knew exactly where I was.”
Simone’s eyes burned.
“What?”
“Celeste and I spoke every month for twenty-eight years.”
Her knees nearly gave out.
“You’re lying.”
“I sent money when I could.”
“We had nothing.”
“I know.”
“Then where was it?”
“Celeste returned most of it.”
“Why?”
“Because the money came from things she didn’t want touching you.”
Simone laughed bitterly.
“That didn’t work.”
“No,” Daniel said. “It didn’t.”
Adrian moved closer.
Simone put the call on speaker.
“Tell me where you are.”
Daniel hesitated.
Then gave an address in Queens.
Adrian shook his head immediately.
Trap.
Simone ignored him.
“Tomorrow. Noon.”
“No. Come now.”
“Why?”
“Because by noon Marcus Vale will know I contacted you.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
Simone looked at him.
“Marcus?”
Daniel continued.
“He worked for Jonah.”
Adrian grabbed the phone.
“Daniel Baptiste.”
Silence.
Then Daniel said, “You sound like your father.”
“And you sound surprisingly alive.”
“Neither is a compliment.”
“Where’s the ledger?”
“Bring my daughter and I’ll tell you.”
“You don’t give orders.”
“No. But I know something you don’t.”
“What?”
“Jonah wasn’t running the coup.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Who was?”
Daniel breathed into the line.
“Margaret Lin.”
The call disconnected.
Within twenty minutes, Adrian had assembled a team.
Simone changed clothes.
When she emerged, Adrian was waiting.
“You’re staying here.”
“No.”
“Simone.”
“My dead father just called me.”
“Which is exactly why you’re staying.”
She walked past him.
He caught her wrist.
She looked down at his hand.
Then up.
Adrian released her.
“You don’t get to make decisions for me.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“So was my mother. Look where secrets got us.”
His face tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
“No. It isn’t.”
She stepped closer.
“You knew my father’s name. You knew his connection to your family. You knew you were paying my mother’s bills. You said nothing.”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“When I understood what it meant.”
“That’s what everybody says before they decide what someone else deserves to know.”
Adrian had no answer.
They left at three.
Queens was wet and empty under autumn rain.
The address led to an abandoned boxing gym squeezed between a laundromat and a boarded pharmacy.
Adrian sent men around the building.
Simone entered beside him.
The gym smelled of mildew, old leather, and dust.
A single light burned above the ring.
A man stood beneath it.
He was sixty, perhaps older.
Tall.
Lean.
Gray threaded through a close beard.
A scar ran from his left temple to his jaw.
Simone stopped.
His eyes were hers.
Not similar.
Hers.
The same dark brown.
The same slight downward angle.
The same habit of narrowing when suspicious.
“Birdie,” he whispered.
Simone crossed the room and slapped him.
The sound echoed.
Daniel did not move.
She slapped him again.
Then struck his chest with both hands.
“You were alive.”
“I know.”
“You were alive.”
“I know.”
“My mother worked herself sick.”
“I know.”
“I begged collection agencies for extensions.”
“I know.”
“She died.”
His face broke.
“I know.”
Simone hit him again.
This time her fist stayed against his chest.
Daniel slowly lifted his arms.
He did not embrace her until she stopped resisting.
When he finally did, Simone hated herself for recognizing the feeling.
Safety.
A memory her body had kept when her mind had forgotten.
She pulled away.
“I don’t forgive you.”
“I didn’t ask.”
Adrian watched from several feet away.
Daniel looked at him.
“Victor’s son.”
“Daniel.”
“You got bigger.”
“You got deader.”
Daniel almost smiled.
Then the lights went out.
Adrian shouted.
Gunfire erupted through the front windows.
Simone dropped.
Glass exploded above her.
Daniel grabbed her and dragged her behind the boxing ring.
Adrian returned fire.
Owen’s men engaged outside.
“Who?” Simone shouted.
Daniel pulled a pistol from beneath his coat.
“Lin.”
“How did she find us?”
“She didn’t.”
He looked toward Adrian.
“Someone followed you.”
Adrian understood.
“Marcus.”
Daniel nodded.
The rear door crashed open.
Three men entered.
Daniel fired twice.
One dropped.
Adrian shot another.
The third disappeared behind lockers.
Simone saw movement.
Raised her weapon.
Fired.
The man collapsed.
Her ears rang.
Her breathing came fast.
Daniel stared at her.
“You taught her?”
Adrian reloaded.
“She insisted.”
Daniel looked almost proud.
Simone hated that too.
The attack lasted four minutes.
Then silence returned.
Owen entered through the front, blood on his cheek.
“Clear.”
Adrian immediately called the penthouse.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then one of his security feeds appeared on his phone.
Black smoke filled the screen.
His home was burning.
Marcus had not merely betrayed them.
He had emptied the building before they left.
And set fire to everything Adrian had built inside it.
The war room.
Records.
Cash.
Weapons.
Evidence.
Memories.
Gone.
Adrian stared at the screen.
Daniel stepped beside him.
“Now you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Jonah wanted your throne.”
Daniel looked at Simone.
“Margaret wants the ledger.”
“And Marcus?” Simone asked.
Daniel’s expression became grim.
“Marcus wants you.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother didn’t hide the ledger in a safe.”
Daniel reached into his coat.
He removed an old photograph of Simone as a child.
On the back was a sequence of numbers written in Celeste’s handwriting.
“She hid the key in your life.”
Simone stared.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I spent twenty years trying to solve it.”
He handed her the photograph.
“Your mother was smarter than all of us.”
Adrian looked at the burning penthouse on his screen.
Simone looked at the childhood photograph.
Her father looked toward the broken windows.
Three people.
Three generations of secrets.
And somewhere in the city, Marcus Vale knew they were still alive.
Daniel picked up a rifle from one of the dead attackers.
“We need to move.”
“Where?” Adrian asked.
Daniel checked the magazine.
“To the one place your enemies won’t expect.”
He looked at Simone.
“Your mother’s house.”
Simone frowned.
“My mother never owned a house.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
May you like
“Yes,” he said.
“She did.”
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