Chapter 3 - The Lawyer Who Wasn’t Supposed to Exist
Vincent wanted security outside Harper’s apartment.
Harper refused.
He installed it anyway.
She discovered Russo sitting in a black SUV across the street at seven the next morning.
Harper walked over and knocked on the window.
Russo lowered it.
“Morning.”
“You cannot sit outside my apartment.”
“I can.”
“You look like you’re planning an armored robbery.”
“I’m eating a blueberry muffin.”
Harper stared at him.
Russo lifted the muffin.
“Want half?”
“No.”
She got into the passenger seat.
“Take me to work.”
“You’re getting comfortable.”
“I’m angry.”
“I noticed.”
At Carmine headquarters, Harper found Vincent waiting beside her desk.
“You put Russo outside my building.”
“Yes.”
“I said no.”
“I heard you.”
“That normally means something.”
“To normal people.”
Harper dropped her purse.
“I am not becoming one of your possessions.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“Protection is not ownership.”
“It becomes ownership when I don’t get a choice.”
That stopped him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Vincent nodded.
“You’re right.”
Harper blinked.
She clearly hadn’t expected that.
Vincent continued.
“Russo will move two blocks away.”
“That defeats the point.”
“You wanted a choice. I’m negotiating.”
Despite herself, Harper smiled.
“Two blocks.”
“Done.”
Then she noticed the folder in his hand.
“What’s that?”
“Your Columbia transcript.”
Her smile vanished.
“You investigated me?”
“I verify everyone around me.”
“You had no right.”
“No. But I did it anyway.”
“Impressive apology.”
Vincent placed the file on her desk.
“You were top twelve percent.”
Harper looked away.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Three years.”
“Long enough.”
“You didn’t fail.”
“I left.”
“Because your mother became ill.”
“Yes.”
“And you still talk as if you weren’t good enough.”
Harper’s eyes flashed.
“You don’t get to psychoanalyze me.”
“I’m not.”
Vincent tapped the transcript.
“I’m reading.”
Before Harper could answer, Russo entered.
“We found Mercer.”
Vincent turned.
“Where?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?”
“House empty. Phone disconnected.”
Harper asked, “Family?”
“Wife says business trip.”
Vincent gave Russo a look.
Russo nodded.
“She’s lying.”
Harper stood.
“Did Mercer have access to the Hayes contracts?”
“All of them.”
“What else?”
Vincent answered.
“Payments. Property transfers. Port operations.”
Harper’s stomach tightened.
“So Hayes wasn’t trying to infiltrate you.”
“No.”
“He already had.”
That afternoon Harper followed the paper trail.
She ignored the intimidating executives walking past her glass office.
She ignored the whispered conversations.
She ignored the fact that everybody knew Vincent Carmine had personally hired a former waitress.
At 6:20 p.m., she found it.
“Vincent!”
He appeared almost immediately.
Harper spread four contracts across the table.
“These weren’t written by four firms.”
“They have four different letterheads.”
“I know.”
“Then?”
“Look at the punctuation.”
Vincent stared at her.
“The punctuation?”
“Section breaks. Semicolon placement. Defined terms. Whoever drafted these has the same habits.”
“So?”
“The shell agreements, port transfers and Hayes merger were created by one person.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She pulled up metadata from an older electronic file.
“But this one was careless.”
The author field contained initials.
E.R.
Vincent stared.
“Mean anything?”
His face became unreadable.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Elena Rhodes.”
“Your attorney?”
Vincent didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“My general counsel.”
Harper sat back.
“The head of your legal department wrote the trap?”
Vincent walked toward the window.
For the first time since she had met him, Harper saw something underneath his control.
Not fear.
Betrayal.
“How long has she worked for you?”
“Eleven years.”
“Then don’t confront her.”
Vincent turned.
Harper continued.
“If she’s involved, she believes she’s invisible.”
“She isn’t.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
Vincent stared at her.
“What are you suggesting?”
“Give her something to steal.”
A faint smile appeared.
“That sounds illegal.”
Harper folded her arms.
“You own a mafia-adjacent logistics empire and now you’re worried about procedure?”
“Logistics magnate.”
“Of course.”
He moved closer.
“What do we give her?”
Harper picked up the failed Hayes contract.
“A replacement.”
“With what?”
“A fake vulnerability.”
Vincent understood.
“We see who she sends it to.”
“Yes.”
“And if she doesn’t take the bait?”
“She will.”
“You sound confident.”
Harper looked toward Elena Rhodes’s office across the floor.
“People who believe they’re smarter than everyone else have one weakness.”
“What?”
May you like
“They need to prove it.”
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