Chapter 4 - The Night Marcus Lost Chicago
Marcus looked around the ballroom.
“You think these men belong to you now?”
“No,” I said. “I think they belong to themselves.”
One of his oldest captains, Victor Hale, stepped forward.
“We heard the recording.”
Marcus laughed.
“You believe Cole?”
Victor’s expression remained cold.
“I believe your voice.”
Another man spoke.
“You ordered Thomas Mercer killed.”
Marcus looked at him.
“Careful.”
“No,” Ethan said from the doorway. “You're finished using that word.”
Marcus turned.
Daniel entered behind Ethan.
Grace gasped.
“Daniel.”
Marcus's face changed.
“My brother.”
Daniel walked toward him.
“You tried to kill me.”
“Cole filled your head with lies.”
“I heard you.”
Daniel stopped several feet away.
“I heard you discussing my death while sleeping with my wife.”
Grace covered her mouth.
Marcus looked around.
“You're all making a serious mistake.”
I answered.
“No. We made the mistake years ago.”
Marcus looked at me.
“Evelyn, think carefully.”
“I finally am.”
“You think Ethan saved you because he cares?”
Ethan said nothing.
Marcus smiled.
“He wants my territory.”
“Maybe,” I said.
Ethan looked at me.
I continued.
“But he didn't marry me to steal my inheritance.”
Marcus's smile disappeared.
Daniel turned toward Grace.
“Did you love him?”
Grace cried quietly.
“I thought I did.”
“And me?”
“I don't know how to answer that.”
“Then don't.”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel looked devastated.
But controlled.
“You'll cooperate with the investigation.”
Grace looked at Marcus.
Then back at Daniel.
“Yes.”
Marcus stepped toward her.
“You ungrateful—”
Victor moved between them.
Marcus stopped.
For the first time since I had known him, nobody moved when Marcus expected them to.
His authority had vanished before his body understood it.
Sirens sounded outside.
Marcus looked toward Ethan.
“You called the police?”
I answered.
“I did.”
His head snapped toward me.
The recording alone wasn't enough.
But the drive contained ledgers connecting Marcus to murders, bribery, money laundering, and fraudulent transfers.
I had spent the drive back from the warehouse sending copies to attorneys and federal investigators.
Marcus stared at me.
“You would testify against your husband?”
“You stopped being my husband when you scheduled my death.”
Police entered minutes later.
Marcus did not fight.
Men like Marcus rarely believed consequences were real until someone placed handcuffs on them.
As officers led him toward the door, he stopped beside me.
“You think this ends well for you?”
I met his eyes.
“It already ended better than your version.”
He leaned closer.
“You'll always be looking over your shoulder.”
Ethan stepped beside me.
Marcus noticed.
Then smiled.
“Of course.”
I frowned.
Marcus looked between us.
“You still don't know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Why Ethan took that bullet for you.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“Marcus.”
But my husband was enjoying his final weapon.
“Ask him.”
The officers pulled Marcus away.
I turned toward Ethan.
“What is he talking about?”
“Not tonight.”
“Tonight seems unusually appropriate.”
Daniel almost smiled despite everything.
Ethan sighed.
“Seven years ago, outside that courthouse, the shooter wasn't aiming randomly.”
“I know. He was aiming at me.”
“Yes.”
“You stepped in front of the bullet.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ethan looked directly at me.
“Because I knew Marcus had ordered it.”
The ballroom went silent.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Marcus was afraid you were going to cancel the wedding.”
My mind returned to that summer.
Marcus and I had been engaged.
We had argued.
I had discovered financial irregularities.
I had considered leaving.
Then came the courthouse shooting.
Marcus had stayed beside my hospital bed for three days.
It was one of the reasons I eventually married him.
“He arranged the attack?”
Ethan nodded.
“He wanted you frightened enough to depend on him.”
“And you knew?”
“I learned hours before.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“You took a bullet instead.”
“There wasn't time.”
I stared at him.
“You should have told me afterward.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because Marcus convinced you I had ordered the attack.”
I remembered.
Marcus had shown me photographs.
Documents.
Evidence.
All fake.
My knees weakened.
Seven years of my life had been built on one lie after another.
Ethan moved closer.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“For not finding a way to make you believe me.”
I shook my head.
“That wasn't your responsibility.”
Behind us, Daniel quietly walked Grace outside to speak with investigators.
For the first time, the ballroom became silent.
Just Ethan and me beneath the chandelier.
I looked toward the door Marcus had disappeared through.
“What happens now?”
Ethan answered:
May you like
“Whatever you choose.”
Nobody had said those words to me in years.
