Chapter 3 - THE BRIDE ON THE EXECUTION LIST
For several seconds, none of them spoke.
Sloan had built the wedding.
Sloan controlled the vendors, the staff, and the estate.
Sloan intended to poison Gabriel.
Yet her own name appeared on the list of people marked for removal.
“That makes no sense,” Matteo said.
“It makes perfect sense,” Norah replied.
Gabriel looked at her.
“Explain.”
“Sloan believes she is taking control. Her father plans to make sure she never gets it.”
Lucian Devereaux had built his organization through patience. He rarely threatened. He never shouted. He invited enemies to dinner, listened to their demands, and killed them weeks later when they believed the danger had passed.
Gabriel had respected him.
That now felt like another failure of judgment.
“Lucian wants both families destroyed,” Norah said. “Gabriel dies. His captains die. Sloan inherits control for several minutes or hours. Then Sloan dies, leaving Lucian as the representative of her estate.”
Matteo nodded slowly.
“He takes everything without sharing.”
Gabriel stared at Sloan’s name.
“Does she know?”
“I doubt it.”
“Then she’s a pawn.”
“She is still trying to kill you.”
“I didn’t say she was innocent.”
Norah studied him.
Gabriel’s voice contained no sympathy.
Only calculation.
“If Sloan discovers her father’s plan,” he said, “she may turn against him.”
Matteo gave a humorless laugh.
“You want to recruit the woman poisoning your champagne?”
“I want Lucian to lose control of his weapon.”
Norah shifted painfully.
“Sloan will not believe you.”
“She might believe the list.”
“That could be fabricated.”
“Then we give her something her father cannot deny.”
Gabriel looked at Luca’s phone.
“Call him.”
Matteo frowned.
“Lucian?”
“From Luca’s number.”
“He knows Luca is dead.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Norah understood first.
“You want Lucian to confirm the plan.”
Gabriel nodded.
Matteo connected the phone to a recorder.
Gabriel typed a message.
VALE MISSED NORAH. ROMANO MAY KNOW.
The reply came less than a minute later.
THEN MOVE THE FINAL TOAST FORWARD.
Gabriel typed again.
WHAT ABOUT SLOAN?
A longer pause followed.
Then three dots appeared.
SHE HAS SERVED HER PURPOSE.
Matteo’s eyes hardened.
“That should do it.”
Gabriel saved the exchange.
Norah shook her head.
“Not enough.”
“What else do you need?”
“Proof of the poison. Proof of the succession document. Proof connecting Lucian to your father.”
“You collected all three.”
“I collected copies. Sloan’s lawyers will call them fabricated unless we obtain originals.”
“Where?”
“The Devereaux estate.”
Gabriel looked at her bandaged leg.
“You are not going.”
“You don’t know where the records are.”
“You’ll tell me.”
“You won’t find them.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re hidden in Sloan’s bridal suite.”
Matteo rubbed a hand over his face.
“Of course they are.”
Norah explained.
The estate had belonged to Sloan’s grandmother. During renovations, workers discovered a hidden compartment behind the fireplace in the eastern bedroom. Norah had found architectural plans indicating that Lucian used the space for documents he wanted near but not in his office.
“The bridal suite will be guarded,” Gabriel said.
“Not tonight. Everyone is preparing for the rehearsal dinner downstairs.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I only need fifteen minutes.”
“You need to stay alive.”
“So do you.”
Their voices rose together.
Matteo stepped between them.
“Please save the marital argument for after we survive the wedding.”
Gabriel’s gaze snapped toward him.
Matteo raised both hands.
“Poor choice of words.”
Norah looked away, but Gabriel caught the faintest change in her expression.
He ignored it.
They left the apartment before dawn.
Norah wore loose black trousers over the bandage and one of Matteo’s spare jackets. Gabriel carried her down the stairs despite her objections.
A dark sedan waited in the alley.
No Romano plates.
No tracking system.
Matteo drove them to a safe house hidden above an abandoned printing company near the river.
Inside, Gabriel’s most trusted remaining men waited: Dominic Serra, head of transport; Amos Reed, former military intelligence; and Rosa Delgado, who managed the estate’s domestic staff.
Gabriel watched their faces when Norah entered alive.
Dominic looked relieved.
Amos looked surprised.
Rosa crossed the room and hugged her.
Gabriel noticed that too.
Norah had built relationships inside his organization he knew nothing about.
“You look terrible,” Rosa said.
“Thank you.”
“I brought clothes.”
“Something with pockets?”
“Obviously.”
Rosa glanced at Gabriel.
“And a finished wedding suit for him.”
Gabriel frowned.
“You brought the suit?”
“Sloan called me six times.”
Norah’s mouth twitched.
Even wounded, she found that amusing.
For the next three hours, they dismantled Sloan’s plan piece by piece.
Amos reviewed security maps.
Dominic traced the poisoned champagne shipment to a warehouse owned by a Devereaux shell company.
Rosa identified twelve estate employees replaced during the last month.
Norah dictated account numbers from memory while Matteo entered them into an encrypted database.
Gabriel sat beside her.
She did not hesitate once.
“Transfer of six million on March third,” she said. “Dresden Holdings to Vale Consulting.”
Matteo typed.
“Next.”
“Four hundred thousand on April twenty-second. Seaborne Medical to Dr. Arthur Bell.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“My father’s physician.”
“Yes.”
“Next.”
“Two hundred fifty thousand on June ninth. Sterling Hospitality to Luca Romano.”
The room went quiet.
Norah continued.
No emotion.
Only facts.
After forty minutes, Gabriel placed a hand over the laptop.
“That’s enough.”
“We’re not finished.”
“You’re sweating.”
“It’s warm.”
“It’s sixty-eight degrees.”
She looked annoyed.
Then the room shifted beneath her.
Gabriel caught her before she fell.
Her forehead burned beneath his hand.
“The fever is worse,” Rosa said.
Norah tried to pull away.
“I can still—”
“No,” Gabriel said.
“Gabriel.”
“Not another word.”
He carried her to the back bedroom.
She was too weak to argue effectively, which seemed to anger her more than anything else.
He lowered her onto the bed.
“You cannot lock me in here.”
“I can.”
“I know the plan.”
“So does Matteo.”
“He doesn’t know the bridal suite.”
“Draw it.”
“He won’t understand the mechanism.”
“Then explain it.”
She stared up at him.
“You are impossible.”
“I own several buildings named after me. This should not be new information.”
For one second, she laughed.
It was quiet and exhausted.
But it changed her face.
Gabriel had seen Norah smile before. Usually after solving a problem everyone else considered impossible. He had never seen her laugh while looking directly at him.
The sound unsettled him.
He pulled a blanket over her.
Her expression softened.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Keeping my assistant alive?”
“You stopped treating me like an assistant hours ago.”
Gabriel did not answer.
She searched his face.
Perhaps fever made her reckless.
Perhaps blood loss had worn down the careful wall she kept between them.
“You were going to marry her tomorrow,” she said.
“It was a strategic marriage.”
“You shared a home.”
“For appearances.”
“You slept beside her.”
Gabriel’s gaze sharpened.
“Are you asking for details?”
“No.”
“You sound jealous again.”
“And you sound pleased by it.”
He leaned closer.
“What would you prefer me to sound like?”
The room became very quiet.
Norah looked at his mouth before catching herself.
Then footsteps approached in the hall.
Matteo entered without knocking.
“We found the champagne.”
Gabriel straightened.
“How much poison?”
“Enough to kill everyone at the head table.”
Norah pushed herself upright.
“Lucian changed the plan.”
Matteo nodded.
“It’s not only Gabriel’s bottle. The entire head-table shipment is contaminated.”
“Who sits at the head table?” Gabriel asked.
Matteo listed the names.
Gabriel.
Sloan.
Lucian.
Matteo and his wife.
Three senior Romano captains.
The mayor.
A United States senator.
The poison was not merely designed to seize a criminal empire.
It was designed to cause political chaos.
“Lucian will not drink,” Norah said. “His glass will be switched.”
Gabriel stood.
“We go to the rehearsal dinner.”
Norah threw back the blanket.
“You are not leaving me here.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I have an invitation.”
“You have stitches.”
“I also have proof.”
Gabriel turned toward her.
“You are the target Sloan has already tried to kill.”
“And you are walking into her house.”
“Because she expects me.”
“Then let her expect me too.”
Matteo watched them argue like a man regretting every decision that had led him into the room.
Gabriel finally said, “You stay in the car.”
Norah crossed her arms.
“No.”
“Then you stay here.”
“The car is acceptable.”
He knew she was lying.
She knew he knew.
Neither said it.
At seven that evening, the Devereaux estate glowed beneath hundreds of lights.
Luxury vehicles lined the circular drive. Music floated from the ballroom. Photographers waited behind velvet ropes to capture images of the couple who were supposed to unite two dynasties.
Gabriel stepped from the SUV in a black suit.
Sloan descended the front steps in a silver dress.
She smiled for the cameras.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Deadly.
She reached him and kissed his cheek.
“You disappeared all day.”
“Did you miss me?”
Her smile never changed.
“I missed controlling the schedule.”
He offered his arm.
She took it.
As they entered the estate, Gabriel glanced once toward the vehicles parked near the trees.
Norah sat hidden inside one of them.
At least, she was supposed to.
Ten minutes later, while Sloan welcomed guests in the ballroom, a server entered the bridal suite upstairs.
The server wore a black uniform.
Her dark hair was pinned beneath a cap.
She walked with a slight limp.
Norah reached the fireplace, pressed the concealed iron catch, and opened the hidden compartment.
Inside were three folders.
A vial of clear liquid.
And a photograph of Evelyn Quinn tied to a chair.
Norah’s breath stopped.
Her mother’s face was bruised but unmistakable.
Across the bottom, someone had written a date.
Two days after Evelyn supposedly died.
Norah reached for the photograph.
Behind her, the bedroom door closed.
May you like
Peter Vale stood between her and the hallway.
“You really are difficult to kill,” he said.
